Page 14 of Angel

I suppose she has become my obsession. My hidden obsession. I’m a man with needs, and I indulge them frequently. There is always a willing body to cling to if I desire it. But Sophie is different. She’s on another level entirely, which is why I quenched my thirst to douse the flames that have been building over time.

I lied to my brothers. I didn’t come here for information; I came to fuck the illusion of Sophie Clere out of my life and then get on with the rest of it.

Now I’m here, it would be so easy. She is quivering in front of me, desire written all over her expression. What would forbidden fruit taste like a second time?

I’m cold enough to find out.

Her touch is like velvet. My fingers stroke her skin as my words destroy her reason for summoning me here.

She lied to me. That’s all I needed to know.

“What is the real reason you called me?”

“That is the real reason.”

I strike, my fingers gripping her throat, pushing her back, loving the wild excitement flashing in her eyes.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.”

I’m impressed by her calmness. She doesn’t fight back. There is no fear in her eyes and, if anything, she stares back at me with a defiance I admire.

“Your father is not dead.”

I increase the pressure, and her eyes flash as she whispers, “He’s not my real father.”

I relax my hold, mildly interested in the red mark my touch left around her slender white throat.

“Then who is?”

“Oscar Malone.”

That name wraps around my soul and squeezes it hard. My breath falters, my blood heats, and I want to smash something.

Without another word, I turn, not looking back as I head back the way I came. Vaulting over the balcony, landing on the roof of the block below.

Rage mists my vision as a voice cries, “Don’t you dare run from me!”

I stare in amazement as Sophie follows me out, skimming the roof, her satin slip blowing up in the breeze, her naked body almost ethereal in the ghostly light of the moon.

I turn, heading toward the beach, not looking back, her calls drifting on the wind toward me as she races after me.

“Don’t you walk away from me, you piece of shit!”

I turn, almost admiring her tenacity as she runs toward me, her bare feet flying over the sand.

It’s cold out here; she will catch her death. The ocean spray hitting her body as the tide comes in.

She reaches me, pushing me hard against my chest. I admire her strength as I stagger back a little, the sand slipping under my feet.

“You will listen to me!”

She screams the words, tears streaming down her face, mingling with the spray; a tragedy in waiting.

I am mesmerized; I have never seen anything like her, and as she pushes me again, I grasp her wrists and spin her against my chest.

With one hand I lift my mask and place it over her head, dropping it over her eyes, wasting no time as my lips crash against hers. They are salty, wet, and plump, edible even. As she kisses me back, it unleashes a storm I never saw coming.