Sterling surprises me when he leans in, planting a soft kiss against the side of my head. “Perhaps we should dance. Seems like you could use a distraction tonight,” he whispers against my ear before pulling away.
I nod slowly, but my eyes are glued to Aamon, and the blinding rage I see twining its way through his features as he watches us leave.
The feel of Evangeline’s body beneath my hands is intoxicating. I can’t get enough of her as we spin our way through the crowd and lose ourselves in the feel of the music pulsing through our bodies. A lingering touch here, a brush of my lips there. It possesses me. And before I know what I’m doing, I’m taking her home and leading her straight to my—herbedroom.
She meets me every step of the way, never once hesitating. Not when I latch the door and lock it. Not when I level my gaze on her, making sure to not hide an ounce of the desire and need that’s been steadily building inside me all night. And especially not when I snake my fingers through her hair and pull hard to angle her face up towards mine.
“Are you sure, Angel?” I whisper in the small space between us.
“Yes.” It is only one word, barely audible. But it’s all I needed.
I guide her head forward with careful precision as I press my lips to hers and revel in their warmth. I’ve tasted her before, when Quinn shared her with me on her first night here. But the sharpness of her mixed with the understanding that I have her all to myself tonight hits different this time around.
Fuck Aamon. Fuck his rules. I know I will have the seven hells to pay for disobeying his command, especially with the way I dangled her in front of him at the bar. But I’m done playing nice. I need this.Weneed this. And if no one else is willing to make the first move, then I sure as fuck will.
“Sterling,” she moans as I move down to her neck. Fuck, the sound of my name dancing across her lips is otherworldly. I lick up the column of her throat, feeling her pulse and nearly tasting the blood pumping just below her skin. I want it, want to know if it matches the taste of her skin or if it has a flavor profile all its own. But I know not to push her that far. Not yet.
Instead, I hook my fingers under Aamon’s cut and shove it off her, tossing it on the desk behind me. I take advantage of the opportunity to step back and revel in the sight of her inmyclothes. Not Aamon’s.
“You know you’ve been driving me crazy all night in this.” I gesture down to the T-shirt and skinny jeans I know she borrowed from my dresser.
She wraps her arms around herself, losing the confident edge she held moments ago. “I hope it’s okay I borrowed them, I didn’t really have another option.”
I chuckle, pulling her towards me as I back up and lean against the desk. “Angel, what’s mine is yours. This just wasn’t exactly what I pictured when I’d thought I’d be getting you into my pants.”
The nervousness melts away, replaced by the biggest eyeroll I’ve ever seen. A laugh breaks past my lips.
“Real funny,” she mocks, and opens her mouth to surely spout off some smart-ass retort. But I swoop in, swallowing the sound as I let my tongue explore hers. The quickness of the motion stuns her, a fact I use to my advantage as I spin us and guide her back against the desk. It's only a matter of moments before she’s melting in my arms once again.
I run my hands over the length of her body. She’s small—so utterly breakable—despite the curves of her hips and ass. My palms find them instantly and I let the tips of my fingers dig into the rough denim. I lock my jaw, irritated by its presence and without hesitating, I drop to my knees to undo them.
I don’t take my eyes off her as I slip the button free, drag the zipper down, and tenderly pull them lower. “Lift your leg for me, Angel,” I croon. She nods, obeying right away. Her hands find the edge of the desk and she leans back just enough to hold her weight as she lifts her right foot. I slide the denim off, freeing her ankle. “Other one, now.” Thedesperate desire I see in her to obey has my cock aching. Has my mind wandering to just how well she’d obey for Zeke, if he’d let her.
How well we could obey him together.
I finally drag my eyes away from her face, to realize she’s not wearing any fucking underwear. Gods above. This girl is going to be the death of me. I swipe my tongue over my lips, letting the sharp bite of my fangs press into it—a reminder to myself to get a fucking grip. My hand wraps slowly around the outside of her knee—one finger at a time—lifting the tender flesh of her inner thigh to my lips and kissing softly.
“I’m going to take care of you tonight, Angel,” I say in between kisses. I nuzzle against the apex of her thighs, forcing her legs to part further for me as I run my tongue over her slick heat. Her moan slips through the room, a glorious sound that has me groaning against her and rewarding her with another pass.
“Why?” she asks through a gasp. “Why are you so interested in me?”
The question gives me pause, anger growing at its implications. Fuck the individual who made her believe she was unworthy of desire. By what little bit I know of her, I have no doubt her father was complicit, but I get the feeling there’s more we have yet to understand about our sweet, fair, fallen Angel.
Her ragged, anxious breaths fill the room. I canfeelher trepidation, perhaps even regret? I don’t know if it’s for the question she just voiced or perhaps her actions altogether. She’s been so hard to read and the last thing I want to do is push her into something she’s not ready for, nor do I want to scare her. So I back off, only enough to rise so I can meet her eye to eye.
“I’m not interested in you, Evangeline,” I deadpan. Her eyes flutter, shock melding together with the hurt of rejection and I can see the exact moment she starts to retreat. So I take her face in my hands, one on either side of her to cradle her jaw and keep her in this moment. “I’m fucking obsessed with you.”
That surprises her. She blinks at me, those long black lashes obstructing the view of her honeyed eyes. “You’re—what?” she breathes, shaking her head. “You barely know me.” She adds it like an afterthought, as if she needs to convince herself, not me, that it’s impossible.
“I may not know everything about you. But I knowyou, Evangeline.” I trail my right hand down her face, hooking my finger under her chin and forcing her eyes to meet mine. “Iseeyou.” Before she can argue, I seal my promise with a kiss.
I break away only far enough to continue on. “I know we terrify you.” I rest my forehead against hers, keeping her close to me in case she tries to retreat again. “That, forwhatever reason, as drawn as you are to our kind . . . you’re also petrified to be here.”
“That’s rather obvious—” she starts to argue, but I cut her off with another kiss.
“I know you like to talk a strong game, but I can see the brokenness inside you.”
This makes her fall silent.
