Page 86 of Vicious Angel

I had to leave.

He flipped me onto my back and hovered over me, bracing himself on his forearms by my head and placing those big palms against the sides of my face. He held me down with his body, pressing himself into me, his eyes lit up with something fierce and angry. “Don’t force me to show you just how much I fucking mean it. I have never lied to you and I never will, so when I say something, I mean it. When I tell you you’re remarkable, I mean it. When I tell you you’re beautiful, I fucking mean it. And when I tell you I want to consume you, I plan on doing just that. You,” he said, brushing my hair back, “are a vicious, precious little angel, and I want you to be mine. You’re like a wild animal, but I don’t want to tame you. No, I want to claim you. All of you. Every—” He nipped at my cheek, “Last,” sucked my bottom lip between his teeth, “Piece.” Slanted his lips over mine and pressed my head into the mattress with the force of his kiss.

All the oxygen whooshed from my lungs, and I tried in vain to make them work again. My heart had ceased beating as a fire roared through my veins, through my head, out of control and unstoppable. All I could do was give him what he wanted as his words sank into me until they settled somewhere deep and dark and untouched. A spot he’d created inside me, just for him.

My arms wound their way around his back, my fingers digging into the muscles there. He breathed life into me with that kiss, giving me oxygen, letting the blood flow freely again. I gasped into his mouth as my hands roamed higher, as my fingers twisted in his soft hair.

He pulled away from me and I tried to follow, but his hands held my head down.

“Tell me why you got upset,” he asked for the thousandth time.

His care and attention were irresistible. No, more than that. They were painfully addicting. Excruciatingly heady.

I was utterly damned.

“I don’t like feeling trapped,” I whispered, my voice wet and thick. I didn’t say that I did like feeling trapped by him. I only liked it when he was the one trapping me. Because in those moments, I felt untouchable. Secure in a way I never had before.

He kissed my cheek, then brought his lips to my ear. “Good girl,” he murmured. “Thank you for telling me. I’m so proud of you.”

Pleasure coiled tightly in my stomach at his praise, momentarily overpowering all that ugly grief and unlocking a new need. A need for more, a need to please him and have him say things like that to me all the time.

But all the time we had was now.

Just this moment.

And it would pass.

“I’m not an angel,” I said, his earlier words playing in my mind. I was so far from an angel that for him to call me that was laughable.

“Why not?” he asked with an easy smile. “Angels are terrifying.” He kissed the tip of my nose and pushed off the bed. “You are terrifying.” He pulled me with him until we were standing and said, “I have to go to work, but until I get back…” He cupped both cheeks of my ass in his huge hands and squeezed. Lowered his head until his mouth brushed against my ear. “Be good for me, angel.”

He stepped back and moved to the nightstand, opening the top drawer and taking out his wallet. I watched as he shoved it into his back pocket, his eyes full of amusement as he faced me again.

This was the last time I’d ever see those eyes looking at me like that. Looking at me ever again.

I bit down on my bottom lip as a new wave of misery rolled over me.

He moved toward me, wrapped a few strands of my hair around his fingers. “Call me if you need anything, okay? Anything, Whitney.” He raised his brows in emphasis, his gaze boring into mine. “You’ve still got the phone I gave you, right? Haven’t tried to flush it down the toilet or thrown it into the wall?” His eyes flooded with mirth, and I swallowed hard.