“You still alive, Angel?” I whispered in his ear.
“Don’t know,” Halo said, and turned his face. “I feel like I’m floating.”
“Oh yeah?”
Halo nodded. “Never wanna leave.”
I brushed his damp hair away from his sweat-slicked skin and licked across the salty surface. “The guys might wonder what you’re doing up here with your pants down if I don’t get you outta here.”
“Mmm,” Halo said, making me chuckle. “Don’t care.”
“Well, I do. No one gets to see you like this…but me.”
I reached up to trace his lips with my finger, and when Halo sucked on it and his heavy eyelids fluttered shut, my heart close to stopped.
The angel was hazardous to my damn health, but somehow I didn’t care, because being with him like this, loving him and having him love me, was my exact idea of heaven, and I never wanted to fucking leave.
Twenty-Four
Halo
“MY PARENTS JUST called, and they’re downstairs.” My voice echoed down the hall, where Viper was still in his bedroom getting ready. Normally, I was the one taking my sweet time, but tonight it was Viper. He’d been at it for two hours already, and I wasn’t sure if he was just hoping to put off meeting my folks for the first time, or if he was simply having a bad hair day.
“Gimme a minute,” Viper called out.
Knowing him, he’d probably need a drink, so with that thought in mind, I headed to the kitchen and took out a glass and a bottle of whiskey. When my parents had asked earlier in the week to have dinner, saying they wanted to meet Viper before the tour started this weekend, the original plan was to meet at their house. But with our last-minute rehearsals running later into the evenings, and wanting to minimize Viper’s panic, I’d asked if they’d be willing to meet us here. Or, more specifically, at the steakhouse on the first floor of Viper’s building, giving him a sort of home field advantage.
I poured a bit of whiskey and then looked up to see Viper walking toward me.
“Oh my God,” I said, my eyes roaming up and down the length of him. His ink-black hair was smoothed off his face, tied back, and he wore a dark, fitted suit—but it was the way he was wearing the suit that had my jaw dropping open. The crisp white shirt was buttoned all the way up, and he wore a silk black tie. My eyes kept going back to that, because a freakin’ tie. Buttons done up. Where the hell had my boyfriend gone, and who was this hot, but seriously proper guy?
At my expression, Viper cocked an eyebrow. “I wanted to look nice.”
“You do know they’ve seen you naked on a magazine cover, right?”
“Maybe we could pretend they haven’t. I’m trying to make a good first impression here.”
“You couldn’t make a bad one no matter what you wear.”
Viper gave me a smug smile. “Is that your way of telling me I look fuckin’ hot?”
“Actually,” I said, as I rounded the island toward him, glass in hand, “you do look pretty good, but like an ‘uptight English professor’ kind of good.”
“What?” Genuine surprise lit his features. “I thought this is what you wear to meet parents. English professors wear cardigans and shit.”
“Don’t even think about buying one of those. Drink this.” I gave him the glass and then reached up to undo his tie. When it came loose, I tossed it on the ground and then began to unbutton his shirt.
“You’re supposed to be taking me downstairs to meet your parents, not ripping my clothes off,” Viper said, tilting his lips up in amusement but not doing a thing to stop me. “I knew you thought the suit was hot.”
“Hot, maybe, but it’s not you. I’m trying to find my boyfriend under all these clothes.” I unbuttoned the suit jacket and stepped back to admire the view. Better. Much better. “I just want them to meet the real you, because the real you is pretty damn incredible.”
Viper’s eyes heated, and he threw back his drink in one gulp. Then he reached for me, cupping the back of my neck and bringing me in for a kiss that tasted like fire, whiskey, and desire.
“Mmm,” I said against his mouth. “There he is.”
“So does this mean I shouldn’t try to watch my fuckin’ mouth too?”
I laughed, breaking away from him so I could take hold of his hand. “Aren’t you worried what the Cheryl Olsen will say?”
“Shit,” he said, prompting more laughter from me as I punched the button for the elevator.
“I love that my mom freaks you out.”
“She doesn’t freak me out,” he said, fidgeting with the collar of his jacket. When we stepped onto the elevator, I gave him a look, and he rolled his eyes. “Maybe I want to impress her. Fuck off.”