Angel (Fallen Angel, #3)(6)

This time when I began to move, it was slow, sensual, and nothing like any of our previous encounters. When we weren’t looking at each other, I was leaning forward, my tongue exploring his mouth as he opened to me. There was always a time and place for a rough, hot fuck with my angel, but this was so much more. It wasn’t just a joining together of our bodies anymore. Halo belonged to me now, heart, body, and soul, and even though that was an entirely new concept in my world, I knew he’d steer me right if I fucked up somehow.

Halo’s breath began to come out in jagged pants, a sheen of sweat covering his body as his release drew near, and I ramped the intensity up to a ten, driving myself deeper inside the hole that was made for me—and only me.

My balls drew up tight, and it was all I could do not to squeeze my eyes shut as the force of my orgasm hit me full-on. Halo’s name left my lips like a prayer, over and over again, as I watched him start to come apart beneath me. There wasn’t a more gorgeous sight in the fucking world than the angel biting down on his lower lip as the first hot jets of cum landed between us. On his stomach, on mine. His eyes stayed on me, his pupils so blown that it edged out the sea-green of his irises, and then he was reaching for me, bringing my face down to his, kissing me with a passion I felt all the way to my toes.

“Yours,” he said against my mouth, and my lips curved.

“Mine.”





Five





Halo





“SO,” VIPER SAID as he shifted in the bed beside me, moving so I could burrow into his side and he could wrap his arm around me. “Now that I’ve bared my heart and soul to you, are you ever gonna tell me what Halo stands for?”

The lights twinkled outside the wall of windows that made up Viper’s lavish bedroom, but the view inside the room was what held my attention as I tilted my face so I was looking up at him, and when he eyed me, I grinned. “What makes you think it stands for anything? Maybe my parents were hippies.”

Viper frowned and screwed his nose up at the thought. “Cheryl Olsen doesn’t exactly strike me as the flower child type.”

“No?” I said, scooting a little closer to him so I could drape my leg over his thigh, and Viper reached down to pull it across his body.

“No. And you said your father was a music professor, so… Come on, fess up.”

I chuckled and felt a flush creep up to my cheeks as shyness suddenly swept over me. The thought of telling Viper, the King of Cool, my real name was embarrassing to say the least.

“Angel?”

“You can’t laugh,” I said, which was the exact wrong thing to say, judging by Viper’s low chuckle that filled the room. “That’s a promising start.”

“Oh, come on. How bad can it be? You know mine.”

I put a hand on Viper’s chest and pushed up so I could look down into his handsome face. “David isn’t bad.”

“My mom will be thrilled you think so.”

I grimaced at the mention of his mother, thinking about how rude I’d been leaving her house without dessert Monday night. “I feel terrible about how I left things with her. I can’t imagine what she must think of me.”

Viper squeezed my thigh. “She thinks you’re wonderful. Me, on the other hand?” Viper shrugged. “She isn’t too impressed. We might have to have a do-over to make it up to her.”

I nodded. That wasn’t a bad idea, and Viper’s mom had been welcoming.

“But don’t try to sidetrack me. Name, Angel.”

I shook my head, the heat rushing back to my cheeks. Thank God the light was off. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Even better,” Viper said with such glee that I shoved him in the chest.

“If I tell you this, you have to promise to take it to your grave.”

When Viper crossed a finger over his heart, I frowned, not wanting to think about that even in the hypothetical sense.

“Come oooon, stop stallin’. Just spit it out. It’ll be like ripping off a Band-Aid.”

“Fine,” I said, and then quickly mumbled, “Howard Allen Olsen.”

There was a long pause. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

I glared down at Viper, his smirk visible with the lights that illuminated the room. “You heard me.”

“Nope. I didn’t,” he said, shaking his head. “You mumbled.”

I rolled my eyes but repeated, much slower this time, “Howard Allen Olsen.” When Viper just lay there and said nothing, I brought a hand up to cover my face. “I know. I know. It’s a stuffy name. It’s—”

Viper pulled my hand away and then tugged me down over him. “A perfectly proper name for an angel. Howard,” he said, as though he were testing the name on his tongue. “I’ve never been to bed with a Howard. I don’t think? But I don’t always remember their names…”

“Oh my God, stop,” I said, and buried my face in his collarbone. Viper ran a hand over the back of my hair, and when he pressed his lips to the top of my head, I sighed. “Howard is an old person’s name.”

“Hmm. How about Howie, then?”

I jerked my head up to see a ridiculous grin stretched across Viper’s lips. “How about no.”