Kiss of an Angel (Fallen Angels 7): A Fallen Angels Story by Alisa Woods

Author:Alisa Woods [Woods, Alisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sworn Secrets Publishing
Published: 2018-06-10T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Five

A moment later, we’re in my three-car garage.

The car is parked, just as it would be if I drove it home. Only I didn’t. A fraction of an instant later, Cassiel and I are in my studio, his hand still clasping mine, the moonlight still lighting everything up with a ghostly glow.

I gasp in air, and a shudder rumbles through me.

Cassiel pulls me closer, releasing my hand but steadying me at the elbow and peering at my face with great concern. “Are you all right?”

“Y…yes.” Just having him close to me, touching me, is making me feel like I can’t breathe. That, and the fact that he somehow magically transported to me and my car back to my house.

His touch disappears from my elbow, and he steps back. “I didn’t want to alarm you, but…” He seems to struggle for words, then says, “It seemed unwise to stay on the bridge.”

I just nod. How do you explain to the police that an angel saved you and the jumper you just called in? Answer: You don’t.

“Thank you,” I mumble. My tongue is finally coming untangled. Or maybe it’s the fact that he’s moved away, not so overwhelmingly gorgeous right up next to me. Touching me. “You keep saving me.” I lick my lips, and I want to ask—what are you?—but I don’t know if he’ll answer. Or how long he’ll stay. And I don’t want him to just vanish again.

He presses his lips together. Then his gaze flicks to the paintings around my studio.

Oh, God.

“Is that why you keep painting me?” His bright blue gaze is trained hard on me again, watching my reaction. “And in that… state?”

He means the erections all tenting out his toga. Oh, my fucking God… that’s no way to thank the angel who saved you. Three times. “I’m… I’m so sorry.” My hands flutter, as if I can snatch the paintings back out of existence, but then I just clench my hands and force them down to my sides.

He steps closer. “You’re sorry? Sorry you painted them?”

“I’m sorry I…” I flail a hand at the closest one. God, his erection is so prominent under his painted toga. What is wrong with me? “I’m sorry I painted you that way. I mean, obviously, you’re an angel, and you don’t, um… I mean that’s just…” Sweet lord, I can’t even get the words out. But obviously, I was delusional about that part. Cassiel is an angel who goes around saving people, not sporting erections. He gave a Life Kiss to that girl on the bridge, and he doesn’t have a giant boner now. That was just my super repressed sexual need coming out. Heat is drowning my face. Sweet mother of—

Cassiel steps even closer. So close. I can feel the heat rolling off his nearly bare chest. “I’m not an angel,” he says quietly.

The squirming discomfort of having painted him so lasciviously falls away. “What do you mean?” I glance pointedly at his wings. They’re tucked in, so they don’t knock over my easels, but they’re definitely still there.

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