Page 26 of Angels Are Falling

Why does he keep calling me princess?

He stroked my hair, kissing my temple even as I gasped for air. He cupped my cheek and lifted my face. He brushed his lips against my cheek, once, twice, three times.

I couldn’t make sense of his actions and stared at him. The gesture was innocent enough, and he wasn’t forcing me to engage. Nothing about his actions were threatening, so I stayed complacent in his arms.

“Is this okay?” he asked, dragging his lips across my cheeks until he had erased all remnants of moisture.

After the invasive questions from his lawyers, I thought Kai would subject me to extreme sexual degradation. I was stark naked, yet he was only pecking my cheek and calling me by names of endearment.

Dumbfounded, I nodded.

“We can ease into this.” He pressed a soft kiss to my lips, keeping me locked in his arms. “I just want to hold you for now. And kiss you.”

Kissing another man wasn’t so abhorrent, was it? It didn’t matter. I couldn’t refuse Kai’s advances now that he had given me an acceptable alternative. “And that won’t be a breach of contract?” I whispered skeptically.

His lip curved. “Not as long as you let me do this.” He tilted his head and pressed his lips to mine. I kept my eyes open, feeling his warmth, then his tongue, slow, gentle, possessive. A cramp twisted my stomach. I closed my eyes, caught between terror, anguish, and despair.

He kissed me softly, no rush, no pressure. His arms wrapped around me, and then his mouth moved to my neck. “Do you hate me for making you go through with this?” His voice was strange, sad almost.

I opened my eyes, taken aback. “Hate?” I whispered.

My breakdown had an odd effect on him, but I was grateful for his concession. I couldn’t put my feelings for him into words, but it wasn’t hate. I hated his actions, his manipulations, but there was no hatred inside me.

“Don’t hate me, Amelie.” He sounded desperate, his cheek pressed against mine. “You’ve got this hold on me that I can’t explain.” His lips brushed against my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

He kissed me again, and a wave of dizziness hit me. The gentle kisses muddied my mind, and I clung to him, my fingers grasping his shirt to keep myself steady. My stomach twisted and turned. The feeling rose to my chest, into my head.

His mouth was on mine again, biting, touching, his tongue tracing the edges of my lips. His hand on the back of my neck pulled me closer, his tongue exploring my mouth. His intensity scared me, but there was something else too. Something raw. Maddening.

Each breath I took was filled with the heady scent of his cologne. He smelled expensive, like bergamot with whispers of ambergris and vanilla. My best guess was Roja Haute Luxe. The cologne was a staple among the elite when I lived in Lebanon. A small bottle cost three thousand five hundred dollars and was as much a status symbol as it was an intoxicating scent.

“Your scent,” I mumbled.

“What about it?”

I couldn’t describe the euphoric feeling. Did he plan it? But how could he have known?

Instead of answering, I breathed him in, feeling lightheaded as I reminisced about my childhood in Beirut. It had been years since I felt a connection to my homeland.

His lips curved against my skin before he licked my lips. “Your scent is driving me crazy, too,” he told me, even though I made no such reciprocal declaration.

Perhaps it was because I was lost in my thoughts of Lebanon that it didn’t register when his hands explored my body, my breasts, my hips. His mouth was on my neck, and I shivered, my head falling back. What was I doing? There was something wrong with me, something very wrong.

I only broke out of my haze when his hand moved between my legs, pushing against my bare skin.

My eyes flew open, and I put my hand up. “Kai, you promised⁠—”

“I just want to touch you,” he said, his voice hoarse. He loomed over me, his shadow blanketing my body. “I can’t get you out of my head.”

He pressed against me, forcing me to feel his hardness. The vulnerability flickering behind his eyes was so unlike him that I wondered whether I was imagining it.

“Let me touch you.” His voice was strained, and something about the plea made me want to cave. After all, what was touching when he had the right to ask for so much more?

Kai didn’t wait for my acquiescence. His fingertips traced my skin with unexpected tenderness, contradicting the alarm bells ringing in my head. They traced my skin as if they were memorizing braille. My pulse hammered against my throat as his touch scorched me with invisible marks. I couldn’t breathe properly, couldn’t think clearly. An unwelcome warmth unfurled low in my abdomen.

I closed my eyes, as if that would erase the reality of his hands exploring my body.

“Fuck,” he murmured, kissing behind my ear. “You’ve no idea how long I have waited for you.”