Series: Sean Moriarty
Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 113805 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113805 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“What to do with you?” he asks, staring into my eyes. “The little angel who peeked into Hell and saw something she wasn’t supposed to see…”
“I didn’t see anything,” I insist.
Isn’t that how these things work? How it always happens in the movies?
Someone gets caught and says they saw nothing, then they’re let go…
“No? Was I just imagining things? Was it another angel I experienced a moment with?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him it wasn’t me, it was someone else.
But the way he’s staring at me, staring at me as if he can see into the very depths of my soul, I get the feeling lying to him wouldn’t be a good idea.
When I remain quiet, he smiles and pushes his weight into me again. “No, it’s not possible. It was definitely you.”
I turn my head, needing air. Needing relief from the tension crushing down on my chest.
Trapped and being so close to him is unbearable.
But it’s a mistake.
And I should know better.
Never show a predator your throat.
His breath is hot against my ear as he says, “You know, normally in situations like this, I’d be expected to make sure you couldn’t speak of what you saw.”
A jolt of fear coursing through me, I do my best to repress a shiver as his breath slides down to my neck.
“Yet, strangely, I’m not inclined to do such. It feels like it would be… a waste.”
His hips move into mine, that hard thing I felt earlier pushing into me.
And damn my body, a spike of arousal slices through me.
His lips brush lightly against the left side of my throat, and I jerk against him.
“Don’t you agree?”
He’s barely touching me, yet every nerve inside me has come alive. Electrified with energy.
“Yes!” I cry out, just wanting this madness to stop.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Why am I reacting like this?
How is his simple proximity so fucking potent?
“Then what do we do, hmm?”
I feel the vibrations of that hmm between my thighs and want to fucking die.
He’s literally talking about killing me, but my brain must be interpreting it differently.
There’s no other explanation for me to be reacting to him like this.
“You can let me go and pretend this never happened,” I suggest as I move my wrists, hoping to slide them out of his hand.
His grip immediately tightens. “Ah, I could… but I fear that’s not possible at this point.”
“Why?” I nearly sob.
“For a few reasons.” He pulls away from my neck and looks me in the eyes. “For one, I have no assurances you won’t immediately go running to the authorities.”
I open my mouth to say I won’t, but he pushes his finger against my lips and shakes his head.
“I also have no guarantee you won’t tell anyone of this.”
Narrowing my eyes at him, I press my lips together into a thin line.
“And the most important one…”
Frowning at my narrowed eyes, he uses his finger to slowly trace my bottom lip.
“I don’t believe I could forget you,” he says more softly.
Clenching my jaw, I fight the urge to bite at his finger. Hating the way he’s trying to be tender as he explains why he can’t let me live.
Eyes lighting up with mirth, he grins. “No, I definitely couldn’t forget you.”
Sucking in a deep breath, I close my eyes and hold it for a moment. Trying to get myself together. Trying to turn off all these chaotic feelings.
“But you’ll have my word,” I finally exhale.
“Your word?”
I open my eyes to see him still grinning at me, as if such an idea is amusing.
“Yes, my promise I won’t go running to the cops. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
“Is that all you have to offer?”
Unfortunately, yes. I have nothing else to bargain with. No amount of money he would find tempting. No powerful friends or family that could vouch for me.
He inclines his head, his gaze boring into me as if he expects something different from me. “Are you sure?”
I have no clue what he expects. At a loss, I just stare silently back at him.
I’ve offered all I have.
When he realizes I’m not going to offer anything else, Jude tips his head back and laughs. “Ah, a prudish angel then. How interesting…”
Prudish? I have no clue what he means by that but my pride bristles, sensing it’s an insult.
His laughter cutting off suddenly, too suddenly to be natural, the expression on his face switches from mirth to determination. “I could simply take you with me.”
I blink at him confusion. “What?”
“Yes,” he says almost gleefully, his eyes lighting up. “That sounds more to my liking. I’ll take you with me, keep you close, and keep a very close eye on you.
My mind going through whiplash at this sudden change in direction, I ask, “Take me where?”
“My house, of course. Where else?”