Angel (#4) | ✐

o9. Sounds like Seduction

TEN MONTHS AGO | SICILY

               His eyes are closed, his chest rising and falling with my breathing. A glance at the digital clock above his door tells me that the sun is hours from rising, giving me more time to admire what just changed my life.

I rub my pedicured feet together as my fingers inch toward his large biceps. I didn't intend to walk into his home and have sex with him but... look at him.

I should've looked away ... walked away. Not knock on his door and remained standing there when he opened it.

But now, here I am, naked body wrapped up in his sheets, eyes watching him carefully as he slightly shifts then settles. His body curls into his pillow, hands tucked under it almost like a child. His arms are littered with a sleeve of tattoos, his hair is freshly trimmed, his lips plump after a night of kissing, and sleep lines marking the side of his face he'd moved off of.

He has a gorgeous body, obviously. A gorgeous face. A gorgeous tongue. A gorgeous -

He shifts again, "You're staring." His voice is deep and husky, sending another tingle down my spine. It's riddled with sleep.

He probably expects a corny response. I purse my lips in thought, "So?"

His eyes remain closed, "Is that something you usually do to men you seduce into bed?"

"I don't seduce, Angel," I mumble, "All I did was show up at your door."

"Hm," He releases an almost groan-like sound, "Sounds like seduction to me."

I fight the urge to laugh. I'll be damned if I let him know how kind of funny he is, especially when I'd already stroked his ego in our more intimate moments. We sit in silence, giving me time to assess my surroundings. My eyes adjusted to the darkness about an hour ago but this might be my first time actually looking at his room.

It's bare of wall decor, or really any decor, save for a couple of hanging plants that seem to be dehydrated. The leaves of an English ivy look dead as if he hadn't touched it in months, as well as some other plants I can't completely see.

A bit of delight fills me at the sight but that's not enough to make me completely relax.

His room is neat, the walls are white with gold accents, and he has a guitar in the corner as well as a shelf of books that are too hard to read in the darkness.

"Interesting," I say under my breath to which Angel chuckles.

"Don't tell me you were expecting dark walls and skulls."

I scrunch my nose and without thinking, I brush my foot against his, "You keep that in your closet, don't you?"

"Basement actually," He licks his lips, "I like those fresh."

"Cute," I say sarcastically. I turn, finally laying on my stomach with my head facing his. I analyze the freckles that span the expanse of his gorgeous face and finally, he opens his eyes. The intensity shocks me and I have to look away for a moment. "I should get going."

"So quick to run away," He huffs and tucks his head into the crook of his arm, "We haven't even cuddled yet."

I roll my eyes, "I hate cuddling."

"No, you don't." He stares at me with a wicked glint in his eye.

"How do you know what I like and don't like?"

Angel has this thing about him. This constant look in his eye that he knows more about you than you know about yourself. I think it's something all the men in this family have, but his is the most haunting of them all.

Almost as nonchalantly as he started it, he finishes it with a shrug, "That's a secret."

My nose twitches as I scan his face, "You think you know me?"

"I think I know what you're about." He retorts. I remain quiet, motioning for him to continue, "You came to Italy because your best friend asked. The same best friend you helped hide her child. You value loyalty, but you also value doing what you have to do to survive. Strong legs, well put together, a fresh set of nails ... a mask over that face of yours." I blink and avoid looking away. "You run a lot."

My breath hitches in my throat, "What is that supposed to mean?"

He turns his head, facing the other way, and releases a sigh. My eyes catch on the tattoo on the back of his neck, a set of fine-line angel wings on his nape, "Whatever you want it to mean, tesoro. . . whatever you want it to mean."

The silence that passes between us makes me narrow my eyes, my brain drowning in thoughts. I fight the urge to redeem myself, to say something. But then, my pride gets the best of me.

"I don't do relationships." I don't know why I said that. To try to save myself from what, him thinking I'm a whore? How does this make it any better, Talia?

Either way, he doesn't seem fazed, the words leaving his mouth in a calm manner, "Neither do I." 

"I'm also not a whore."

"Neither am I." He says again and I can only see the rise and fall of his back as he breathes evenly. "Anything else?"

A mere second passes as he turns his head again to meet my eye. He looks at me with an expectant gaze but when I say nothing, he presses his lips to mine and smiles.

"Good. Now, close your eyes and stop staring at me."

has it been pretty much a month?? maybe. am i struggling with writers block? helllllllll yeaaahhhhh

i just wanted to get something out and ik it's short but it's something 🥲