“Okay,” she says again, and my eyes fly back to hers.
“You don’t like to be touched, and I’m respecting that boundary. Or trying to. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
Her brows pull together for just a heartbeat, and then she lifts her chin a half an inch more.
“You’re not making me uncomfortable.”
My thumb skims over that plump bottom lip, so soft and sweet and everything I’m aching for. I want to push my hands in her thick, gorgeous blond hair and kiss the fuck out of her until she can’t breathe.
Baby steps.
Instead, I lower my mouth to hers and sweep my lips back and forth before sinking in and kissing her chastely.
She moans in the back of her throat, encouraging me to deepen the kiss. I lick over the seam of her mouth, and she opens for me. Her hands settle on my chest, and I can’t resist tasting her, nipping that lip, brushing my tongue over hers.
When I back away, her eyes are glassy, and she glides her tongue over her bottom lip, as if she’s seeking the taste of me.
Oh, Angel, there’s much more where that came from.
“Get comfortable,” I tell her. “I’ll be in my office downstairs if you need anything.”
“Julian?”
Fuck, I love the sound of my name on her lips.
“Yes?”
“Can I have your phone number? I mean, I don’t have it, and if something happened and I needed you?—”
“Of course. I’m sorry that I didn’t think of it. Where’s your phone?”
She frowns and looks around for her bag, finds it on the bed, and reaches for it. When she pulls the phone out, she passes it to me, and I open a new text field, type in my number, and send a message.
We both hear my phone ping in my pocket.
“There you go.”
“Thank you.” She takes the phone back and bites her lower lip. “For everything. Is, um, is Elliott alive?”
She’s staring at the floor, not even looking me in the face with the question.
“Yeah, Angel, he’s alive.”
She nods. “Okay. I’m going to change now.”
“I’ll be downstairs.”
My fingers itch to help her with her zipper, but instead, I walk out the door and close it behind me, then head into my own room to change my clothes before I go to the office.
Ten
NATASHA
Today hasnotbeenwhat I expected. Not at all.
First of all, I married Julian, and although I’m terrified of him, he’s been kind to me so far. Of course, we’ve only been married for a matter of hours, but he welcomed me into his home and even gave me my own room. I don’t have to share his bed. If he’s to be believed, I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to.
My room has windows that look out to the gorgeous gardens, the likes of which I’ve only seen in magazines or online, a huge bed that looks so soft and cozy with sage green and cream linens, and a massive closet stuffed to the brim with brand-new, colorful clothes.
