Eros

Chapter Thirty-Two

The memory of soft kisses touched Angie's skin.

My God.

She'd only gone and done it again. Strode through territory she'd said she'd stay out of. But this time she didn't regret it. Not the way she did before. Before had been different.

This time around, Angie didn't care.

If she thought about it hard enough, she could still feel those gentle caresses of his across her flesh. And his hand combing through her hair. His breath fanning against her nape. Or those feathers brushing against her thigh.

Sex with Eros was unfairly good.

He could keep her on the edge of her seat, always wanting that little bit more.

She eased a hand to the side, reaching out for him.

On both sides of her body, her hands found only mattress.

Is he gone? No. He wouldn't leave. Not after that. Sure, he'd been a womanising dickhead back in the day, but he'd made it clear things wouldn't be like that with Angie. So why...?

He wouldn't have left. It wouldn't make any sense. She was the only person he could talk to. So where was he?

She opened her eyes, stretching out her aching limbs with a soft, contented sigh.

Across the way, she spotted him.

On an old rocking chair, he sat straight, his hair a mess from where she'd tugged and pulled on it.

She stared at him for a good long minute, watching as he kept his gaze dead set on the wall.

He hadn't noticed she was awake.

If she didn't know any better, she'd have said he looked pissed off. From here, it looked like his jaw was clenched along with his fists, and his back looked awfully rigid.

Angie refuted the possibility in an instant. Why would he be angry? He'd finally gotten what he wanted.

Done mulling over it, she slipped out of the bed, wrapping the sheets around her naked body.

At the quiet pitter patter of her feet against the floor, he turned her way, eyes never meeting hers.

Angie paid it no mind. She continued to bound her way over, only stopping when she stood before him.

He'd dressed himself up whilst she'd been sleeping. Other than her own state, the only evidence of what they'd done rested in his hair.

Fuck, what she'd give to mess it all up over again.

"Morning baby," She murmured, dropping one arm across his shoulder. When she invited herself onto his lap, the angel God didn't say a word on the matter. His posture didn't change either, but he didn't push Angie away. She relaxed into his front, even as he remained stiff and frigid. "Did you do anything interesting? There're some more magazines and stuff in my bag for you to look through if you get bored in the night."

And still he said nothing.

Teetering, she glanced up at his face.

Total blankness.

His visage gave away nothing.

Okay.

So someone wasn't happy.

Was it something she'd done?

No. It couldn't be. Last night, Angie had done everything he wanted. She'd finally given into his wishes.

Did he miss the hard to get already? Or did he regret it?

It'd make sense. Angie was human. For him, sleeping with her was technically forbidden. And sure, they'd done it before—but at that time, he'd thought she was something from his world.