Page 37 of Angels Are Falling

“Can we talk about this?” I asked softly.

When he attempted to walk away, I shadowed his retreating form with determined steps of my own. He was unpredictable right now, and it felt wrong to leave him alone.

“Look, Kai, I didn’t mean to offend you,” I told him, surprised that I cared he was pissed. But I couldn’t shake the expression on his face.

Then I clocked it. Behind the anger was a wounded look—my confession had hurt him. My stomach knotted with more guilt as I watched his carefully constructed facade crack, revealing a vulnerability I hadn’t known existed.

“I’m not in the right mindset,” he said stoically. “It’s best if you leave.”

Every instinct screamed at me to obey. After all, why should I care if he was hurting? But my feet refused to move. I never thought there’d be a day when I’d miss the cold, calculating Kai.

“I shouldn’t have been thinking about my other relationship while we were together,” I admitted.

He glared at the wall and didn’t respond.

“I understand how things are supposed to be. I-I just need some time to adjust.”

Again, nothing.

“Kai.”

I reached out with tentative fingers and touched his jaw, even as his eyes flashed with barely contained rage. Again, no reaction. Just as I found myself wondering why I cared to calm Kai Cavendish, of all people, I saw the rage break loose behind his eyes.

He turned his face and pressed his lips to mine.

I jerked away, dropping my hands like they’d touched a hot stove. The sudden shift from anger to affection caught me completely off guard.

It was my turn to retreat. I backed up a step, twisting my fingers together while my cheeks burned so hot I thought they might catch fire. Kai shadowed me.

“At least there is one wifely duty you haven’t let me down in,” he said in a cynical tone.

My mouth dropped, and I raised my hand to slap him. He caught my wrist before I could strike. It was my mistake for showing him an ounce of compassion. I forgot, he wasn’t deserving of it. “Go to hell, Kai. You’re mad at me for thinking about Stefan when you are the other man⁠—”

I fell silent as his eyes darkened. “I am the other man?”

His accusation hung in the air like a guillotine. My breath grew faster, echoing loudly in the quiet. He watched me, unblinking, his gaze immobilizing me even as a flush crept up my neck. I backpedaled without thinking, the wall behind me halting my retreat with a painful impact against my spine.

“Back off, Kai.”

He disregarded my command, which had emerged as more of a plea.

“Legally, you’re my wife,” he said softly as he crowded me.

I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering wildly as my mind scrambled for clarity. His hand descended between us. A chill shot through me at the tug against my waistband. I seized his wrist, my head moving in silent refusal. His eyes never left mine while he eased his hand down my tennis skirt. The air caught in my throat as his palm covered me. His fingers applied pressure through the thin cotton barrier of my underwear, not breaching, but insistent enough that the material slipped between my folds.

“Or have you forgotten?”

His voice, rough with anger, caused my insides to clench. Warmth pooled low. I held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t feel my underwear dampen, but a second later, his fingers shifted, rubbed, and then his expression hardened.

His mood shifts were giving me whiplash. He went from being a consoling friend to a jealous husband and now my lover, all within the span of thirty minutes.

He brushed my underwear aside and slipped a finger inside me. I let out a strangled yelp and banged into the wall behind me in a desperate bid to get away, but Kai was relentless. His finger sank so deep, my mouth opened on a silent gasp.

“I can feel how wet you are,” he said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper as my body responded further to his touch. His breath was hot against my temple. “Fuck.”

“Kai…” I closed my eyes as another finger joined the first.

“Were you thinking about him while I was inside you?” he growled.