Page 24 of Angel Eyes

“Juliet, look at me.”

I tilted my head up, my gaze drifting over the elegant cords of muscle lining his throat before landing on the smooth curve of his mouth. I lifted a hand, my fingers inching toward his lips as an overwhelming desire to touch them—to feel them—consumed me.

I blinked.

Wait. What on earth was I doing?

I staggered away from him, heat licking my cheeks. “Oh, my God, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I just want to make sure you’re all right.”

I let out a shrill laugh. “Oh, yes. Of course.”

He frowned. “Are you sure you’re fine?”

“Yes.” No. A guilty pang reverberated in my core. I shouldn’t have let myself get swept up in the moment like that. He’d just been looking out for me, and I almost crossed a line.

I ran a hand over my mouth, Gabriel’s intoxicating scent still clinging to my skin.

I needed air. I needed a moment to regroup and get a grip on reality.

“I should go check in with Kyle.”

I spun away from Gabriel, but not before I saw his face fall, crumbling like stone under the weight of what I had said.

And, perhaps, what I hadn’t.

Eight

Gabriel

Well, that couldn’t have gone worse. What the hell had I been thinking, grabbing her like that? I hadn’t been thinking, and therein lies the problem.

The whole thing happened so fast—just a couple of asshole teenagers running in the museum. It shouldn’t have been such a big deal, except it had become a huge fucking deal the minute they hooked a corner, barreling straight toward Juliet.

The moment they crashed into her, time solidified in my mind. I didn’t remember moving toward her, only the feeling of all the air leaving my lungs when Juliet’s body jerked on impact like a runaway train had hit her.

The rest had been a blur.

Eventually, I realized I was holding her, possibly even suffocating her if the way she wrenched out of my arms was any indication. And then I saw the look on her face. She looked horrified. And why wouldn’t she be? I had no right to put my hands on her, no right to touch her at all. But something about seeing her in danger made me act purely on instinct, the result of which was her taking off.

To call her boyfriend.

Wonderful.

I dragged a hand up the back of my head, glancing down the corridor. Should I go check on her? She’d gone in the direction of the restrooms, but I hadn’t followed because I wanted to give her space. That, and I’d been too stunned by her comment to move. But now that my pulse was returning to normal, the visceral need to make sure she was okay propelled me into action.

Moving down the hall, I paused when my phone vibrated in my pocket. My phone. Maybe I should just text her? That way, if she were still upset with me, I could save us both from any further awkwardness.

I pulled it out, swiping up on the home screen, and froze, all the heat draining from my limbs when I saw one new message.

From my father.

What did he want?

I chewed on whether to delete it like I had the other two he’d sent over the past month. We hadn’t talked in three years, though that was doubtless due in part to the fact that I changed my number. But that wasn’t the only reason we hadn’t spoken. There wasn’t much to say after a man disowned his only son.

I flexed my fingers, a buzzing noise sawing in my ears.

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