Angel (Book 4)

Chapter 8. It Wasn't A Dream

            "Angel?" I asked, confused. I looked past him up and down the hallway. I looked back into the dorm. Cecilia's bed was still made and empty.

I pulled Angel into the dorm. I closed the door and locked it. I turned to face him.

"What's wrong?" I was still disoriented from sleep deprivation.

"What makes you think something is wrong?" He arched an eyebrow. He stumbled slightly.

My lips pursed as I took in his state. "It's three in the morning. You live over an hour away. You're in my dorm..." I trailed off. "Are you drunk?"

"As a skunk," he said. He chuckled and staggered.

I quickly reached for him before he could fall over. I fisted his shirt and pushed him down onto my bed.

"What are you doing here? Why are you driving drunk?" I asked.

"Don't be angry at me, mami. I hate when you're angry at me," Angel mumbled as he stared up into my eyes.

I stood between his legs. The way that he was looking at me made my legs shake slightly. My pulse quickened. This isn't real.

"I'm not," I said softly.

He gripped onto my thighs and pulled me closer. His eyes swept over my body as he slid his hands up to my waist.

My black tank top slid up slightly, showing my bare stomach.

Angel did the last thing I expected. He pressed his lips to my stomach.

A gasp escaped me, and I stumbled back. Butterflies erupted in my stomach, flapping around wildly.

Angel sighed and bowed his head. He buried his face in his hands and rubbed his face fiercely.

"What the hell got into you?" I asked.

"Mostly bourbon," he muttered.

I stayed still and silent for a long moment. My heart and lungs started to work double time. I wasn't sure how much more I could take.

Angel rose to his feet. His gaze locked with mine as he took several steps toward me.

Without thinking about it, I backed up slowly. I was unsure of what he was doing. My back hit the wall. I swallowed hard and looked back at the wall then back at him.

He trapped me between the wall and his body. He pressed his hands to the wall on either side of my head. His chest rose and fell rapidly.

"I was sitting at a club with some friends. They were all joking around and trying to pick up women. I realized I didn't even want to be there. I wanted to be at home with you, but you weren't there," he said softly. Mixed emotions clouded his eyes.

"If you wanted me there so bad, why did you let me leave?" I challenged.

"Pride, I guess, which I so don't have when I'm drunk," he said and shrugged.

"So, what? In the morning, I leave?"

"No," he growled. He ran his hands through his hair. He slammed his hands back on the wall, which caused me to jump. "No, mami. No more leaving. I need you. I'm tired of walking through life without you. Life doesn't mean anything when you're not part of it. If there is any part of you that feels that way or if any part of you at all misses me or still loves me..." he trailed off. "Come home with me."