Her fallen angel, she thought painfully.
And he wanted to go.
“Please.” She couldn’t stop trying one last time even though she knew she shouldn’t, knew someone like her wasn’t really for someone like him.
But all he said was her name.
“Lane.”
She wanted to weep.
Lane.
She was just Lane now.
And she just couldn’t take it, she just couldn’t make herself give up—-
“Look at me, please!” She took hold of his face with both hands and forced him to look at her.
Angelo’s gaze clashed with hers.
“Please—-” Pain engulfed her, and she could no longer speak. Her hands fell, and she could only plead to him with her eyes, and it was those eyes that stopped Angelo from speaking.
She had been right when she thought he was going to send her away.
He had.
But he could no longer do it.
How could he when she was looking at him like she believed that in the end, she deserved to be thrown away?
“Okay.”
She stared at him, as if unable to believe what she was hearing.
“I’m saying,” Angelo said tensely, “I’m not sending you away.”
But Lane continued to stare at him, and Angelo let her, realizing that it was her way of convincing herself.
“You can touch me if you think it would help you believe this is real.”
Oh. Lane started, recognizing the words. They were the very same thing he had spoken at the bus stop. Her eyes flew to him. This was real then?
And almost as if he heard her question, he took hold of her hand and brought it to his mouth.
He pressed the softest kiss to her fingers. “Does this seem like something a man who wants you to go would do?”
Oh.
He wasn’t going to send her away.
He was letting her stay – even when he knew the truth about her.
The truth made her body shudder with relief, and Lane’s heart threatened to shatter. “I promise I won’t cause you any trouble.” Her voice was hoarse with unshed tears.
“You’ll never trouble me.” His was calm and strong, just like what she would expect from a fallen angel like him.
She choked out, “I wish I wasn’t sick.”
Releasing her hands, Angelo shook his head, saying quietly, “It’s not your fault you are, tesoro.”
Her chest tightened with pain, but oh, it was the good kind of pain, pain that she would never get enough of.
She whispered brokenly, “I t-thought I’d never hear you call me that again.”
A smile formed over his lips as he said gently, “It means darling...and you are that, my Lane.”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
“My darling.”
And the tears no longer stopped, running down silently as she whispered the only thing she could think of saying. “T-thank you.”
He smiled at her, and as he wiped the tears away, he told her, “Don’t be.”
She started feeling warm and fuzzy.
“I intend to punish you for the trouble you caused.”
Oh. “Angelo.” But she said his name like she was still thankful, and she was.
Her fallen angel had accepted her.
ANGELO HAD A DINNER tray brought to Lane’s room, and he kept her company as she ate her dinner. When he stood up to leave, murmuring that it was time for her to rest, Lane impulsively caught hold of his hand.
Angelo raised a brow.
She heard herself say, “I’m, umm, afraid of being alone.”
“Is that so?” Angelo’s voice was drily amused.
“Uh huh.” But she didn’t meet his gaze as she continued with the lie. She waited tensely for his answer but was only met with silence. She peeked at him, and that was when she saw that he was already taking off his shoes and socks.
And then he was getting into bed with her, and Lane’s heart jumped to her throat.
Angelo pulled her to him, his hot, hard chest pressing against her back. The strength and power in his body was almost tangible, making her feel feminine and alive. His scent, an irresistible mix of something sensual and elegant – like chocolate and moonlight – surrounded her.
It was exciting, comforting, terrifying, and beautiful.
She wished this moment would never end.
“Thank you,” she blurted out in the darkness.
His arms tightened around her. “Go to sleep.” His voice was gruff but she didn’t mind, not when she could feel him smiling against her hair.
Her eyes drifted closed.
“Thank you again.”
“You don’t have to thank me, tesoro.”
“I do.”
“No, you don’t.” Before she could ask, he said silkily, “Because I’ll punish you for this, too.”
Her eyes flew open. “P-punish?”
“For making me do this.”
“Sleep?” she gasped incredulously.
“For forcing me to go to bed with my clothes on—-” Angelo’s chagrin was evident in his voice as he finished, “—-with a girl I want to fuck.”
“Oh.”
“I can hear you thinking.”
“I’m not.”
“It’s probably a masochistic thought, too.”
She twisted and cringed because he was right.
Angelo sighed. “Go on. You probably won’t let me sleep until you ask whatever it is you want to ask.”
She blurted out, “Am I the first?”