Dating an Angel Page 5

  She swigged the wine from the bottle. It didn’t help numb the pain, the guilt, or the self-pity.

  Her phone tinged. Caleb again. What’s up?

  She ignored it. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin his date as well.

  Tears ran freely down her cheeks.

  Five minutes later, it could have been ten, she didn’t care, there was a knock on the window.

  Caleb. “Can’t you use the bloody door like everyone else?”

  But no one used the front door, except for delivery guys. The thought brought on another batch of tears.

  “Are you all right? Can I come in?”

  Evie plonked the wine bottle on the table, then swiped her cheeks and under her eyes. “I’m fine.” All By Myself reached its crescendo as if to make her a liar.

  Caleb rattled the window latch, and it opened.

  She wished she’d locked it, except this high up, it didn’t have a lock.

  He climbed in from the fire escape, eyeing the wine bottle and her no doubt dishevelled appearance. “You’re not.” He stepped over a pile of clothes as he came towards her. “It looks like a pigsty in here.”

  “Who has time to tidy up when they’re saving souls?” she snapped. She didn’t usually mind his comments about the state of her flat, but for some reason, his remark grated on her nerves tonight. She blamed the cheap wine.

  “I do,” came his virtuous reply.

  “Urgh, whatever.” She glowered at him. “I thought you were on a date.”

  “I was, but you didn’t reply to my text, and I got worried.”

  “You needn’t have bothered. I had another shitty date. I’ll get over it.”

  “The warlock?”

  “No, the lying, cheating snake of a warlock.”

  “Do you want to talk about it? It might help.”

  The kindness in his eyes showed no judgment. Evie caved.

  Caleb sat beside her while she relived the whole sorry story; how the warlock seemed so normal compared to the Fae and the vampire—they’d even joked about it. Then his wife had shown up, sobbing her heart out, accusing her of being a marriage-breaker.

  Evie reached for the wine and drank from the bottle again. Her chipped mug of untouched coffee sat on the side table, an unappetising film floating on the top.

  Caleb raised an eyebrow but didn’t pass comment. Wise man. “It wasn’t your fault, Evie,” he said, his features full of sympathy. “You weren’t to know he was married.”

  She refused to listen, hell-bent on drowning herself in a drunken stupor of self-pity. “Now I’ve gone and ruined your date as well because I’m a pathetic excuse for a would-be angel who’s destined to spend eternity alone.” A melancholic sob escaped her lips.

  “You’re not pathetic, and you’re not alone either.” He gently prized the bottle from her and placed it on the coffee table. “You have me.” He took her hand, but she shoved it away. Did he think patting her hand was going to magically make things better? She was a waste of space, always was, always would be.

  “Anyway, you saved me from the most boring date ever,” he said, his tone upbeat. “She was a pleasant enough girl, but she had the personality of a soggy dressing gown sleeve.”

  A medley of disappointment, frustration and anger simmered inside Evie. She didn’t deserve his kindness or his compassion, and she didn’t need his poor attempt at a joke either.

  “Let’s face it, Caleb. I’m never going to become a fully qualified angel if I can’t even sort out my own life. I’m done with that stupid dating agency. I’m never going to find love.” She lurched for the wine bottle again and brought it to her lips.

  “Do you want me to fetch a glass?”

  Anger sparked at his virtuous tone. “No, I don’t want a bloody glass. If I want to drown my sorrows, I will. I never asked you to come.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  Did she? She couldn’t remember. Her head pounded.

  She swigged the wine from the bottle on purpose, then flashed a smug smile his way. “What’s wrong with you, Caleb?” Sarcasm reigned. “Do you get a kick out of being so holier than thou all the time?”

  Caleb narrowed his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with me. You’re the one who seems determined to cause an argument.” His jaw jutted forward. “Maybe you’re too fussy with your choice of dates. You won’t ever find love if you don’t open your heart to it.”

  The nerve of the man. “So you’d rather I am the cause of a marriage break-up?” she shouted.

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” he yelled back.

  She waved her arm in the air in a dismissive gesture and accidentally knocked over the table lamp beside the sofa. “I don’t care what you meant to say.”

  Caleb reached across her to right the lamp, his weight pressing against her. Heat spread through her body. Despite still being infuriated with him, she liked it. A lot.

  He met her gaze, his face inches from hers. His eyes blazed with anger, but something else smouldered behind their emerald depths too. Desire?

  Evie licked her lips and swallowed. Words failed her. The image of the time she’d tried to kiss him flashed before her. But, drunk or not, she would not make a fool of herself again, even if she did crave the touch of his lips on hers.

  Why does he have to be so damn sexy when he’s angry?

  For a split second, his gaze sought her mouth, and she thought he might want to kiss her too, but with a sharp intake of breath, he pushed himself off. He perched on the edge of the sofa, scrubbing his forehead with his palm as if he wanted to clear his head.

  “What are you doing, Evie?” His tone was still gruff but oddly emotional too. “Did you ever think you might have purposely picked the bad guys on the dating website?”

  Where had that come from? Wow, she’d read the signals wrong. If it wasn’t desire she’d seen, what was it? “Why would I do that?”

  “A Fae, a vamp and a half-dragon? Hardly long-term relationship material. You’re not looking for love, Evie; you crave the excitement, the danger. You don’t want a good guy. You want someone who will treat you like shit, like your old life.”

  Evie couldn’t believe her ears. Caleb never spoke to her like that. Her stomach twisted at his harsh words, perhaps a tad too close to the truth. “You think you’re such a goody two shoes,” she spat out.

  His jaw tightened. “I wasn’t always good.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “What do you care? You never asked.”

  “You never told me.”

  Stalemate.

  Caleb stood, marched across the room and switched off the music.

  “Turn it back on. I like that song.” She went for the wine bottle.

  He returned to the sofa and swiped the bottle from her hand. “I think you’ve had enough wine, don’t you?”

  She leapt up and grabbed it again, her fingers brushing against his as they played tug of war with the bottle. The touch of his skin sent delicious tingles over her entire body. Her pulse rate quickened. “I’m nowhere near drunk enough yet. Where do you get off telling me what I should and shouldn’t do all the time?”

  “I am still your teacher whether you like it or not,” he said through gritted teeth. He snatched the bottle from her with such force it tipped towards him, splashing red wine over his shirt. He vented a growl and plonked the bottle on the table. “Now look what you’ve made me do.”

  His wine-soaked shirt clung to his skin. She couldn’t take her eyes off the hint of impressive pecs through the fabric. Her anger vanished in favour of something akin to arousal. She swallowed. “Sorry about your shirt.” Her voice came out all squeaky.

  He glanced up, frowning. “How much have you had to drink?”

  She blew out a slow breath, trying to focus. “Take your shirt off. I’ll run it under the tap before it stains.”

  A ghost of a smile toyed with his mouth as he unbuttoned his shirt.

  Maybe she was drunk, maybe the sign
als he was giving off were all in her imagination, but what if they weren’t…?

  He removed his shirt, easily slipping his wings from the specially made concealed slits that he had in all his expensive clothes. His intense gaze fixed on her.

  Her breath hitched. Her belly fluttered.

  Caleb was a well-built guy—she always assumed he worked out—but she’d never seen him half-naked.

  Well-toned muscles rippled on lightly-tanned skin, smooth and hair-free, defining his six-pack to perfection, but what intrigued her more were the scars and tattoos; skulls with flaming hair, blood-red roses with daggers spearing through them, evil-looking creatures with obsidian, soulless eyes. Kind of scary.

  Kind of sexy too.

  “You… you never mentioned you had tattoos,” she mumbled for want of something to say.

  To her surprise, he picked up the bottle and glugged the wine, tilting his head back until he’d drained it.

  He wiped his lips with the back of his hand. The bottle slipped to the floor and rolled under the coffee table. “You’re not the only one who had a rough past.”

  She tentatively reached out to touch one scar, a good eight inches long, diagonally across his side. “What happened to you, Caleb?”

  He flinched and stepped back. A tiny muscle flexed along his jaw. His broad shoulders dipped, along with his wings. “My dad used to beat my mum while I stood by and did nothing,” he confessed. “One day, I flipped. I couldn’t bear to see her suffer anymore. I took the kitchen knife, and I stabbed my father in cold blood.”

  Her mouth dropped open.

  “My mother still defended his actions, and instead of being done for manslaughter, I was convicted for murder.”

  His mother sounded like a lovely person—not. “I’m so sorry.” Her words seemed so inadequate. His pain seared her soul as though it was her own.

  “In prison, I got myself mixed up with some gang rivalry while trying to defend another inmate. You’d think I would have learned not to trust anyone after what my bitch of a mother did, but I didn’t.”

  She edged closer and cupped his jaw.

  His gaze swept the floor. “They beat me, Evie, but I still forgave them. Then one night in the prison hospital, someone came in with a knife made from something they’d forged in a metalwork class…”

  That explained the scars. Maybe she’d ask him about the tattoos another time.

  She’d never seen him look so vulnerable, yet in admitting an awful past and his failures, she saw in him a quiet strength she found incredibly sexy. A first for her, since he’d accused her of wanting the bad guys.

  Caleb cleared his throat and stepped back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to lay all that on you.” He seized his shirt, the sudden action implying he regretted his confession.

  She touched his arm. “Thank you for telling me,” she said softly.

  He yanked his arm away, his eyes flashing like lightning bolts. “I don’t need your damn sympathy.”

  Taken aback by his sudden hostility, she mumbled, “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “No, you don’t mean to do anything, do you?” he accused, hurling the shirt across the room. “But you still do it, without even trying.”

  Evie frowned. “Do what?”

  He scraped his fingers through his ebony waves. “That thing you do when you look at me like… like you want more than I can give you.”

  Her heart thumped against her ribcage.

  Caleb fisted his hands, his arms rigid by his side. His wings splayed out behind him to their full ten feet span. The warm draft flicked her hair. The scent of him surrounded her, fresh air and heady masculinity.

  Evie gawped. He had it all; the muscular body, the angelic wings, and the scars and tattoos. Power and purity melded with vulnerability and pain. Caleb was the most exquisite angel she had ever seen, and the way he was gazing at her, his emerald eyes smouldering with both rage and desire, looking as though he wanted to devour her and spank her at the same time…

  Wow… The guy emanated sex appeal, with magnificent feathers of gold to boot.

  She totally lost the plot.

  To hell with making a fool of myself.

  Succumbing to desires she’d kept in check since the day she’d tried to come on to him, she closed the distance between them and kissed him passionately.

  In less than a second, Caleb returned the kiss with equal vigour and, for one glorious moment, she imagined she was in love with him.

  Then he placed his large hands on her shoulders and pushed her away, leaving her lips bruised and aching for more.

  “Evie, no.” His raspy tone lacked conviction.

  Evie’s chest rose and fell. She looped her hands around the nape of his neck, trapping him. “Have you any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

  He shook his head. “No. This is wrong.”

  Was he trying to convince her or himself?

  Evie inched closer. Heat spread between her thighs. “If it’s wrong, then tell me you don’t feel the chemistry between us, Caleb.”

  His face hardened, but the hunger that burned in his piercing eyes implied he did feel something. “What do you want, Evie? Someone to love, or do you want this because I told you about my dark past?”

  She didn’t answer.

  With an exasperated grunt, Caleb snaked his arm around her waist and crushed her body against his. His lips found hers, his kiss rough and needy.

  Evie clung to him, savoring his soft lips, the scratch of his stubble on her chin, the taste of cheap wine on his tongue.

  There she was, mistaking lust for love yet again as she’d done with every man in her past life. Except Caleb wasn’t like any man she’d ever met, he was an angel, her teacher and her best friend.

  She wasn’t naïve enough to think he loved her. This was pure, unadulterated lust, and she’d goaded him into it.

  Right then, with her womanly parts throbbing with a need only he could sate, she hungered for him too.

  She clawed at his shoulders, his chest, any part of his hot, hard body she could get her hands on, banishing all rational thoughts from her mind and surrendering to the raw passion he evoked in her.

  If this was all Caleb could offer, then she’d take it because not knowing all of him, even if it was only one time, was better than spending an eternity wondering if they could have had something special.

  Chapter Eight

  “Evie, stop… I can’t—”

  She silenced his protests by rubbing the hard bulge in his trousers.

  He rewarded her with a groan of masculine pleasure. His eyelids flickered. His whole body trembled.

  She pressed her erect nipples to his bare chest, gyrating her hips into him to make sure he felt her heat.

  Caleb pulled back, his eyelids heavy, his scorching gaze loaded with sin. He fisted his fingers through her hair and tugged her head back.

  She gasped at his urgency. Her arousal skyrocketed.

  With her neck exposed, he trailed hot kisses along her collarbone and downwards, only pausing briefly to rip her pyjama top apart. Buttons flew in all directions, revealing her naked breasts.

  The sudden cool air on her skin made her nipples throb. They peaked more, but Caleb soon warmed her. He fondled one breast while he took the other in his mouth and circled his tongue over the pink bud.

  Evie giggled. “Isn’t there some rule about doing this sort of thing?”

  He glanced up, taking his mouth off her. “If there is, then we’ll both be damned to Hell,” he murmured. Caleb straightened and kissed her lips again.

  Tongues and teeth clashed.

  His warm, capable hands touched every part of her, his actions frantic and ardent as he dragged her towards her bedroom.

  Evie dragged him too, grabbling at his belt buckle and squeezing his tight arse.

  Caleb threw her on her bed, the move so swift she barely managed to tuck in her wings. Her duvet puffed up either side—the rest of her flat might be a bit messy, but
she always made her bed in the morning.

  Who cares? All thoughts of bedmaking vacated her mind as Caleb whipped down her pyjama bottoms.

  He stood over her, his wings quivering, fanning out like a peacock seeking to attract his mate, the move flashy yet elegant as if he sought to draw her attention to his physical fitness and sexuality. Not that he needed to.

  His appreciative gaze zeroed in on her nakedness. “Dear Lord, don’t you wear underwear?”

  She raised an eyebrow provocatively and opened her legs, giving him an eyeful. “Do you?”

  Caleb wasted no time kicking off his shoes and slipping out of his trousers.

  He didn’t wear underwear either.

  Wow, she hadn’t expected that. He was always so immaculately dressed, but wearing nothing underneath…? The dampness between her legs intensified.

  He lowered himself on top of her, his hot cock nudging her lower abdomen.

  No, leading up to it, he slipped his fingers inside her.

  Evie moaned. Her body jolted with ecstasy. She squeezed his rock-hard biceps, and they flexed beneath her touch. She slipped her hands underneath his wings, the most sensitive part, and teased him with her fingertips.

  Caleb growled like a wild animal that had lost complete control as he buried his face in her neck.

  She knew the feeling. Curling her fingers around his cock, she urged him towards her.

  He thrust into her, his actions urgent, raw and primal, clinging to her like he never wanted to let her go.

  Her body bucked in harmony with his, as though this was an inevitable development to their relationship. Or maybe the end of it.

  She wrapped her arms around him, breathed in the scent of his skin and nipped his shoulder, refusing to think of how this would change what they had between them.

  Neither uttered a word as they indulged in each other until they climaxed together.

  Her breaths raspy, her skin tingling in the aftermath of their lovemaking, Evie glowed with happiness.

  Caleb still didn’t speak, but he lay beside her and kissed her forehead as she nuzzled into the curve between his shoulder and neck and drifted into a satiated, exhausted sleep.