Chapter 31 Archangel
THIRTY-ONE
ARCHANGEL
This fucking romantic bastard. I want to hate him, but instead I take his hand. He pulls me close, but it’s hard to skate like this, and our wheels keep hitting. He laughs, putting a hand on my hip. My skin prickles under his touch, even with fabric separating us.
“Don’t move,” he says softly, tightening his grip while pushing me.
I look over my shoulder, too out of control for my own liking.
“Look at me,” he says sternly.
My eyes snap back to meet his. “What?”
“You can’t even imagine how you look in this light.” He barely says the words, but I hear them over the music, clear as day.
“How do I look?” I have to laugh.
“You’re glowing. Like a real angel.”
“You’re drunk.”
We’re both drunk. It’s silly to take any of this seriously.
“I’m drunk, but I still have eyes.”
I go to brush my hair out of my face, but he catches my hand.
“Don’t do that. I like it in your face.”
My cheeks hurt from smiling. Whatever inspired this night, my soul needed it, and that’s why he’s my best friend. He always knows what I need.
The song ends, and I turn back around. He skates by my side for a few seconds, then slips his hand into mine.
“What are we doing, Wolfe?” I say when we get off the floor, sweaty and needing another drink.
“Getting a drink? Or did you forget already?” He hands me mine, and we find seats near a heater, suddenly cold.
“I don’t mean the drinks. I mean all of this.” I gesture around us.
“I wanted to get out and enjoy the day. I told you.” He’s not looking at me.
“Why?” I can’t make sense of it.
“We do stuff all the time. I like spending time with you.” He looks at me like he’s daring me to challenge it.
“Not like this. We’ve never been like this.”
“Who says we can’t be this, too?” He drops his gaze again.
I stare, trying to work out the reasoning. “Why, though?”
“Why not? Are you having fun tonight?”
“Of course I am—”
He cuts me off. “This past week was amazing, right? Despite being home, despite my mother, your family. Tell me you didn’t feel that.”
I search his face, still trying to understand the angle. “I felt it.”
“So keep doing it with me.”
“Is this about me helping you out? Because you don’t have to do all that to continue. I was teasing you about—”
He cuts me off. “I haven’t even tried to touch you the last two days. Don’t insult yourself like that. It’s not just about sex.”
My head is spinning.
I can’t figure out what this is. If he wants to fuck, he doesn’t have to do all this. I told him I would when we got home, but we just haven’t found the time yet. We could have stayed in tonight and had a great time.
Maybe he thinks he has to take me out to dinner before we can fuck like we are trapped in heteronormativity. Or maybe he doesn’t want me to feel like a puck bunny. It’s cute.
But he really didn’t have to take me out, and at the same time, I don’t want the night to end.
“You just want to do this?”
“Yes, how many times do I need to tell you I want to keep doing this. You said you were enjoying yourself.”
“I am.” It’s my turn to look at my drink.
“Then what’s the problem?”
The lines are so blurred. I don’t know what to think.
“And sex?” I ask when I know I probably shouldn’t. I don’t want to give him the idea that I don’t want that to continue, because I do. I’m way too weak to stop.
“Only if you want to.”
“I do,” I mutter, embarrassed about how much I want to keep touching him.
He grabs my hands. “Let me take care of your needs, too.”
“You have.”
“No, not just getting you off. Let me give you what you want.”
“I don’t know what you mean?” I wish I could melt into the bench.
“I think you do. You told me you don’t usually find what you want in a guy.”
“I did say that.” Fuck my life. I cannot believe we’re actually having this conversation.
“You want to be fucked by someone who can handle you. I can handle you. Let me give you what you want.” He’s dead serious and way too irresistible to be saying this.
I’m instantly hard, and I can’t breathe.
How can I say no?
“It’s more than that…”
“I know.” He slides a finger under my chin, making me look up.
“How do you know?” I say indignantly.
“I’ve done research. I know how gay sex goes.”
I nearly choke on my drink. “What?”
“I have porn hub.”
“Have you been watching gay porn?” I look around like I’m being punked or someone is recording us.
“Why don’t we go home, and you can judge for yourself?”
“Now?”
“Want to stay longer? We can skate or go to a bar?” He’s far less demanding than he normally is.
I let him stew for a moment, sipping my drink. “I’m happy to go home.”
We sit and take off our skates, and the energy between us pulses with my heart. Louder every time he gets near. He gets up to return them while I put my boots back on.
“Subway or car?” He offers his hand, pulling me into his chest.
“You hate when I call a car.” I eye him suspiciously.
“And you hate riding the subway this late at night,” he counters playfully.
“Usually, you tell me to deal with it.” I put my palms on his chest, feeling his heart rate match mine.
“Then shouldn’t you call the car and not question it?”
“Maybe we should walk back…” I say, just to see his reaction.
He growls deep in his chest but quells it quickly. “You want to walk three miles—” He exhales, lowering his voice further. “I’d love to walk back with you.” But the act doesn’t fool me. He looks like a barely controlled animal that will eat me alive the second he gets a chance.
“So horny.” I curl my fingers into him. “I’ll call a car.”
“Not at all. We can cuddle and watch a movie. Or like I said, go to a bar, dance, stay.”
I hold up my phone, shoving him back slightly. “Called. Let’s go.”
He keeps looking at me the entire ride back. It’s not far, less than twenty minutes, but every minute felt like an hour. He put his hand on my thigh and stroked lightly over the sensitive skin there.
I glare. “I thought this wasn’t about anything.”
His fingertips dip into a hole in my jeans, making contact with bare skin. His touch is electrifying. “It’s not.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“I like touching you. Is that a crime now?”
“It’s not. I just want to know why.”
“I’ve always liked touching you, and the more I do, the more I want.”
We pull up in front of the house, both get out, and I expect it to be awkward once we get in the house, but before I can peel off my coat, he’s on me. So close I can feel the heat coming off his body.
“Should we talk about this?” he asks, tilting my jaw up with a knuckle under it.
“Do you need to talk about it?” I ask breathless, not wanting to talk, because if we do, I’ll let doubt creep back in, and tonight, I want to enjoy the fantasy.
“I know what I want.” He kisses me, but it’s not aggressive like I want; it’s as soft as he’s been all afternoon.
“What do you want?” I flick my tongue just past his lips.
“Every single part of you that you’ll let me have.”