Page 145 of The Wright Man

I didn't want to stop.

And then the fucking door opened.

"I figured I'd give y'all some time alo—oh, shit—" Riq's voice rang out behind us.

Everything stopped.

The spell shattered.

Angelica tore herself away from me so fast I almost lost my balance, gasping, her face flushed with color and streaked with tears. Her swollen lips parted as if she was about to say something—but no words came out.

Only fear.

I'd never seen her look at me like that.

Like she didn't recognize me.

Like I was the mistake.

She scrambled off the apron, damn near tripping over her own feet. "I—I have to go," she stammered, voice shaking like glass. She didn't look at me. Didn't let me touch her again. Didn't even glance my way when I said her name.

"Angelica—wait—"

She was already gone. The back door clanged shut behind her, the metal-on-metal sound making my heart feel like it split down the middle.

Riq muttered something. Probably meant it to be funny, but I didn't hear a word.

All I heard was the silence she left behind.

All I felt was the press of her lips on mine… and the sting of her running from me like it was something she needed to survive.

I slammed my fist down hard on the ring apron, hands gripping the edge like it could tether me to the ground.

What the fuck did I just do?

And how the hell was I supposed to come back from it?

Chapter Twenty-Four

Angelica

What the fuck did I just do?

I could still feel him.

His fingers in my hair. His lips on my mouth. His hands—God, his hands—everywhere. On my hips. My waist. My ass. Holding me like I was something precious and breakable, and somehow still burning to touch.

I was driving, but I didn't remember getting in the car. Didn't remember putting it in drive. My hands were trembling on the steering wheel, still tingling from being tangled in his hair. My body was on fire in all the places he'd touched me—my skin betraying me, clinging to the heat like it didn't know what it had done.

The last five minutes of my life were playing on a loop I couldn't turn off.

Me, raw and wrecked in his arms, spilling secrets I swore I'd carry to the grave.

Him holding every jagged piece of me like they were diamonds—valuable, worthy, worth saving. The way he looked at me when I said her name.

"You're fucking magic, Angelica."

His voice rang in my ears. Rough. Reverent. Like a prayer he didn't mean for me to hear.