Page 40 of His Relentless Angel

Based on some of the Wattpad stories I’ve read, I know what I want to call it. “Play. It’s just play.”

“We can play like this since it’s not real, but…but there have to be limits, ok?” He holds eye contact, his plea swirling in his chestnut eyes under brows drawn up in the middle.

“Ok. What are your limits?”

His brows dip. “I’m not sure yet. Give me time to think about it.”

I nod. A beat passes. “So this means I can keep the bikini? But not the pink one from my sixteenth?” I ask in a teasing tone, not even sure if I still own it.

“Evil angel,” he says with exasperation, dragging himself off my body and taking me with him.

“Gonna have to spank it right out of me,” I tease, twisting to look over my shoulder at my reddened asscheeks.

He spins me around and gives me a stinging smack on the ass, then rubs a circle over it. “You’ll regret saying that now that I’ve had a taste.” He nips the crook of my neck from behind, pushing me toward our bedroom and into the bathroom.

“I doubt it,” I say, feeling all warm and tingly inside, like I’ve experienced a release that goes beyond my orgasm.

In the shower, Isaiah washes me from head to toe, that warm feeling tripling and making me drowsy. He dries me off with a towel, going so far as to brush out my damp hair for me, then lays me down in bed under the comforter, naked. He’s so sweet, bringing me a snack and a glass of filtered water with a straw before propping himself up in bed with his book and his other hand finger-combing my wet strands back from my face.

Once I’ve finished my snack, I cuddle up against his side, draping my arm around his tapered waist. “You can’t go to hell because we’re already in heaven,” I mumble sleepily before my eyes drift closed, hoping this time I’ll finally be able to sleep peacefully the whole night through.

But I know I won’t.

The haze is already hovering at the edges of my heaven.

Chapter 17

Bailey

It’s tradition in our family to take turns cooking or having meals delivered whenever there is a major family event, like when a new baby is born. Over the years, this tradition has grown to include our closest friends and their families by extension, which is how I came to meet Isaiah’s sister, Brianna, and her husband, Carlos, when Brianna gave birth to Isaiah’s niece, Ava.

At the time, I didn’t know if Isaiah was annoyed when I signed up to drop off dinner for his family or if he was secretly pleased. I was fifteen at the time and only had my learner’s permit, so Dad had to drive me an hour and a half away to deliver the Styrofoam cooler with the two pans of homemade lasagna and extra large Caesar salad Mom helped me make, along with frozen breadsticks they could pop in the oven.

I was on my best behavior and didn’t try to push my way into the dark gray stucco, three-story townhouse to see Isaiah when Carlos answered the door with a tired smile, but I was thrilled when he motioned for me and Dad to follow him down the hallway into the open living room.

I’d never been in a home so fancy, and it was the one time I ignored Isaiah’s presence, at first, in favor of sweeping my gaze over the mix of black metals, sleek glass, and dark wood furniture with extra tall ceilings, and a huge black marble island in the kitchen.

It was Isaiah’s chuckle at my whispered, “Wow,” that finally snagged my attention with a blush of embarrassment at being caught gawking. I only stayed for a few minutes for introductions, thinking, they’re going to be my family when Isaiah and I get married. I was on a high for months after meeting them.

Isaiah had given me a soft smile when Brianna asked if I wanted to hold her baby. I couldn’t decide where to look—Isaiah’s beautiful face and defined black curls on top or at the gorgeous little girl in my arms wearing a blush pink headband with a bow that was nearly as large as her. Ava looked so much like her uncle and mother, who was leaning back on the mahogany leather couch wearing a teal head wrap that matched her lounge set.

I carried the memory of Isaiah’s smile for years afterward. That, along with the thank you card Brianna had sent, which included Isaiah’s signature at the bottom.

Saturday morning, Isaiah drives me to James and Shayla’s house to drop off the three pans of homemade breakfast casseroles, two gallons of orange juice, and the hot coffees we picked up on the way. It’s finally my turn four days after they came home from the hospital since Mom, Eden, and Eden’s mom kept hogging the online sign-up sheet. I thought we’d only pop in for an hour, maybe do a few chores to help out, then be on our way since Isaiah said he has some errands to run, but Shayla has tears in her eyes above dark circles when she answers the door with Mirabel clinging to her pink pajama pants and Clara on her boob.

“What was I thinking?” she yells with her blonde hair hanging half out of her loose bun before we can say a word.

“Oh my god, Shayla, what’s wrong?” I hustle inside while Isaiah takes the food to the kitchen table to dish it up for his future nieces and nephews.

Shayla collapses on the huge, soft gray recliner they brought with them when they moved back to town after Shayla graduated from Texas Tech. “Why did I have so many kids?”

That pulls me up short. Her family is her whole life, and I can’t believe for a second that she would have second thoughts about having any of her children. Nervously, I ask, “Is that a rhetorical question or…?”

“I haven’t slept in ten years. I don’t know when I’ll ever sleep again.” She stares up at me unblinkingly, even when she unclips and pulls down the other side of her white tank top and switches Clara to her full breast to continue nursing.

I don’t know what to say to that. She found out real quick—as Autumn and I did—when she brought Lainey home that sleep and newborns do not go hand in hand. Other than her accidental pregnancy with Lainey when she was seventeen and still in high school, getting pregnant with each new baby has been intentional…I think.

I kneel next to her and rub her knee. “Where’s James?”

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