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I whipped my head to the source of the sexy voice and found Michael seated on the lone chair in the darkened corner of my room. Now that I knew he was there, I could see more of him in the shadows. His tall and broad frame filled the space, his elbow rested on the wooden armrest. With his suit jacket off, the rolled sleeves of his crisp white shirt exposed his elbows. Goddess save me. I couldn’t stop ogling his sinewed forearms. I flicked my tongue over my teeth as I bit back the need to lick them.
Needing a distraction, I grabbed the water and chugged. Once hydrated, I could finally react to the situation at hand like an adult.
“How did you get in and why are you still here?” I tried hard to sound calm. He wasn’t making it easy with his arrogant, lopsided smile. The one that sent those flutters in my belly.
“I broke the door handle to get inside,” he said matter-of-factly.
“What the fucktart! You did what?” I gaped at him and then angled my neck to get a glimpse at the front door. Sure enough, the mangled handle hung loosely from the frame.
“I didn’t want to wake you. You needed the rest,” he shrugged. When I didn’t say anything, he had the manners to look a tiny bit sheepish then added, “I’ll get the door repaired, of course.”
“Of course,” I parroted, and dropped my gaze to the soup. Shaking my head, I let out a sigh. No point being angry. He’d said he fix it.
“Who made the soup?” I pointed at my one good bowl. My cat, Jira, was on a mission to see if everything in my house was breakable. After paying the bills for my Aunt’s very expensive treatment, I didn’t have the funds to buy more bowls, and let’s face it, there are far more pressing needs in my life than buying bowls. Besides, it was just me and the cat.
“I found chicken in your fridge and some random spices in your cupboard. It’s not the tastiest of soups but I think it will help with the cold,” he stated, that brand of quiet confidence of his returning. The idea of Michael looking through my tiny collection of utensils in an even tinier kitchen had my cheeks turning hot.
“An Archangel cooking for a commoner like me. Are you really so desperate for me to return to Regent City.”
His jaw clenched. “Can’t it be simply because I was worried about you?”
The familiar weight in my chest returned. What was it about him that had me hanging onto his every word? His voice was clipped but it was hard to ignore his sincerity. So far, he’s done everything to take care of me; flying me home, tucking me in bed, making soup. Why couldn’t he be a regular asshole-Archangel?
I huffed, kicking the covers further off. The cool air felt wonderful against my skin. Not wanting to appear weak in front of this man, I swung my legs off the bed and stood. The floor met me faster than I expected, but strong arms broke my fall.
“Not so fast, sweetheart. Sit,” he ordered, pushing my butt down on the bed.
I would have resisted his command if I had two working brain cells to rub together, especially after that endearment. That’s twice in a few hours, he’d called me sweetheart. The buzz in my belly intensified. I found myself rubbing the goosebumps on my arms, from his simple touch. I closed my eyes and tried to recenter my off-balance equilibrium.
Michael sat on the bed next to me. “You are cold again,” he murmured, watching me rub my arms.
If he only knew the cause of the pleasurable prickles on my body. Cold had nothing to do with it. He touched my forehead and then, his hands slipped to my neck. I bit back a gasp. His large hands framed the base of my neck, checking if I was hot. Nothing anything a doctor wouldn’t do. But this was Michael. His hands paused on my skin and I squeezed my eyes shut at the million sensations that forced heat pooling between my thighs.
“Goodnessfuckcake,” I whispered, biting my lower lip. Even with my eyes closed, I could feel Michael go unnaturally still. I really hoped he couldn’t feel my pounding heart under his fingertips.
His hands left my skin and I let out a haggard breath. When I opened my eyes, I found him staring at my mouth, his brows furrowed. He appeared lost in thought. His hot gaze had me parched and I licked my lower lip. He swallowed thickly and I leaned forward involuntarily. His hand wove into my hair, drawing me closer. He smelled powerful and divine. His lips were so close to mine. His rough five o'clock grazed my cheek. I bit my whimper, ready to launch myself at him. The loud mewl of Jira as she strolled into the room had me jumping back instead.
The tight tension between us snapped and I noticed his shoulders slacken imperceptibly. My heart was still racing but the moment certainly had passed. I gape at Jira, my cat who rubs her head against his leg and heads back out of the room.
“What in the world?,” I mutter, the heat in my belly receding.
Michael rubbed the back of his neck and gave a small smile. “I was bored. So, we bonded,” he explained.
I groaned and fell back on the bed. “Why don’t you start planning my finances while you are at it?” I accused him though there was hardly any bite in my words.
Confusion warred within me. He’s so very different than what I imagined the Archangel of Regent City would be. He was supposed to be cruel and unreasonable. After all, his father hadn’t minded executing people because it fancied him. Like father, like son.
Michael assessed the room as if evaluating it. “I guess you could use help. I don’t see why you would live in this neighborhood on a Head Librarian’s salary?”
“That was a sarcastic suggestion,” I snapped. “Plus, unlike Archangels, we don’t have access to infinite money.”
“You’ll be receiving a large package as part of the ceremony,” he said, softly.
I hated the notes of pity in his words. My temper flared and I glared at him. “I don’t need your charity to care for my aunt,” I said, bitterly.
His gaze softened further and I looked away. Why is it so hard to hate him?
“She took good care of you,” he said.
