Page 108 of Angel Eyes

Gabriel

Running late—be there as soon as I can.

I fired off the message to James as I climbed the stairs of my apartment building two at a time, digging my keys out of my pocket. As much as I enjoyed living in the seventeenth arrondissement with its wine bars and old-world charm, its location along the northwestern edge of the city made for a long commute. And while I rarely minded the Métro ride, on nights like tonight when I was late to my best friend’s baby’s gender reveal party, it was less than ideal.

My phone vibrated just as I turned the key in the front door.

No worries, mate. As long as you make it in time for the cake cutting, you’re all good. Otherwise, there will be hell to pay (Nora’s words, not mine).

I chuckled, tossing my phone down on the kitchen counter as I kicked the door shut behind me. Turning to the living room, my eyes fell across a neat stack of books on the table next to an open notebook full of writing and a rose-gold laptop.

Juliet.

“You here, angel?” I called, hanging my keys on the hook near the door.

“In the bedroom,” she answered from down the hall. A grin tipped up the corners of my mouth, her sweet voice vibrating through every inch of my body.

I was so fucking gone for this girl.

The week after our trip to Versailles, I gave Juliet a key to my place. Since she was now spending more nights with me than not, I didn’t want her to have to wait around at the bike shop or gallery until I was finished for the day. The decision to give her a key quickly snowballed into us going to her apartment to pack up some of her clothes so she wouldn’t have to stop at home before coming over. And when I noticed after the first few nights she was still keeping all of her belongings stacked in the corner of the bedroom as though she wanted to take up as little space as possible, I immediately cleared out a couple of drawers and unpacked her things.

Three weeks later, I still hadn’t gotten used to coming home to her. It was like some kind of daydream—the sight of her sweaters in the closet next to my shirts, the smell of her shampoo in my shower, the sound of Bridgerton playing in the background while she made dinner, the feeling of waking up with her warm body next to mine. It was almost too good to be true.

What if it could always be like this?

I pushed the thought away and moved down the hall. I already knew it couldn’t, so there was no point in letting the idea take root. It was too tempting, too euphoric—too close to the thing I didn’t dare hope for.

For her to stay.

I rounded the corner to the bedroom, only to stop dead in my tracks. Juliet was standing in front of the mirror in the red lace dress Simone had given her, the corseted top and sweetheart neckline hugging her curves so perfectly that my heart catapulted into my throat. My greedy eyes roamed over her, dipping to where the dress tapered off beneath her hips, just above a pair of sheer black thigh-high stockings.

Lord have mercy.

On any given day, she looked like an angel, but right now, she was pure sin.

A light blush stained her cheeks when her gaze connected with mine in the mirror. “I wasn’t planning on wearing this to the party,” she said, turning to face me. “I just thought I’d try it on and see how you liked it for a date night or something.”

I prowled toward her, my abdomen stirring. “I like it very much.” Hooking a finger under her chin, I tilted her head up. “As long as that date is in this bedroom, then I’m all for it.”

She laughed, looping her arms around my neck. “Is it strange that I like how possessive you are?”

“Yeah?” I trailed my lips over the smooth column of her throat, breathing in her warm, familiar scent. “Well, there’s plenty more where that came from, beautiful.”

She sucked in a sharp breath as I brushed my tongue over her earlobe, dragging it between my teeth. “Gabriel, we can’t. We’ll be late for James and Nora’s, and I still have to shower.”

“How convenient,” I said, finding the clasp of her dress and unzipping it. “So do I.”

She shuddered, her fingers digging into my shoulders as I lowered to my knees, peeling the dress down her body until she was standing in nothing but a lacy thong and stockings.

“Oh, angel,” I said darkly, tracing my thumb over the seam of her panties and feeling her wetness through the material, “do you need your man to take care of this?” She let out a throaty moan as I dragged the scrap of fabric down her legs, my cock thickening as I unwrapped her like a goddamn birthday present.

“Gabriel,” she gasped as I dragged my nose up her slit.

“I love the way you smell. I love everything about you.” Grabbing her hips, I drew her closer. “The way you taste,” I said, my tongue disappearing between her folds until her thighs quivered. “The way you feel,” I whispered against her sensitive flesh, sweeping my thumbs up the curve of her calves. “Every time I’m in your presence, I am utterly consumed by you.”

Rising to my feet, I pulled my shirt over my head before kicking off my jeans and briefs. Then I was diving for her mouth, taking her lips in a sensual kiss that became increasingly desperate as she pressed herself against me. Without breaking the kiss, I hooked my arms under her knees and lifted her, walking us toward the bathroom.

“Wait,” she panted as I nipped at her chin, “I’m still wearing my stockings.”

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