"ꜰᴜᴄᴋ ᴍᴇ ʀᴀᴜʟ" ɪ ᴡʜɪꜱᴘᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ʜɪᴍ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴍʏ ʟᴀꜱʜᴇꜱ.
Angel's life has been quite a roller coaster ride since she graduated with an exceptional degree from one of the finest schools in her hometown.
Securing employment proved to be ch...
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Can this man stop staring at me like that? I squirmed under his intense gaze, still refusing to look directly at him.
The silence in the room felt heavy, thick with an unspoken tension that made it difficult to breathe.
"I'm sure you know why you are here, Ms..." he trailed off, prompting me to finish his sentence.
"Caribello," I whispered, my voice barely audible. Still, I kept my eyes downcast, unable to meet his penetrating stare.
His words sounded more like a statement than a question, and I nodded in reply, hoping he would sense my discomfort and let the matter rest. But that was not his style.
"I work with words, Angel." My name, usually common, felt foreign and special coming from him.
"Ye...yes, Mr. D'Amano," I managed to stutter out.
Silence followed. Too nervous to look at him, I waited for his next words or actions.
And then, suddenly, he was closer, far closer than I ever imagined.
I felt a cold yet burning sensation on my chin as he lifted my face to meet his gaze.
My voice lodged in my throat, and I stared at him in shock. Up close, his beauty was breathtaking. I was unable to process the beauty that loomed before me.
"Mr. D'Amano—" I began, but he cut me off.
"You're quite a good dancer, Angel." His face was so close to mine.
I could feel the warmth radiating off his skin, and I was acutely aware that any slight movement from either of us would join our lips.
Why was he so close? I didn't mind his intoxicating scent, the sinful brush of his hand against my skin, but wasn't he married?
"Tell me, Angel, where did you learn to dance like that?" His voice was low, his lips brushing dangerously close to my ear, igniting a flurry of emotions I didn't know I had.
All I wanted was for him to.....
But then, the image of his wife slammed into me – a cold splash of reality. He belonged to someone else, I reminded myself.
"Mr. D'Amano," I called, placing my palm on his firm chest and pushing him back slightly as I rose to my feet.
"T-this is inappropriate." I whispered.
A sexy smirk spread across his attractive lips, and I could hardly believe the way my body reacted to him.
"What's inappropriate, Angel? Do you mean this?" Before I could even process his words, I felt his soft lips on my cheek, and my face heated like someone lit a match under my skin.
"Relax, caramella," he whispered, the heat of his breath sending butterflies racing in my stomach.
"There's nothing inappropriate in what I'm doing, unless what is in your head is what is inappropriate."
