Fallen Angel by K. S. Thomas Page A

gripping the sticks so tightly. I don’t even know what I’m thinking when I run my own palm over his, gently stroking the wounded parts like I can heal them or something.
    For a minute he just watches me. Then, his hand closes around mine, holding it securely in his grip, and he gets to his feet.
    “How do you keep showing up right when I need you to the most?” His deep smooth voice causes chills to run down my spine.
    “Bad timing,” I joke. It’s probably the dumbest thing I could have possibly said. Internally I’m busy reminding myself of the super specific instructions Ava gave me regarding my visits with him.
    He doesn’t smile. Just rubs his thumb back and forth over the back of my hand in a way that makes me think about things I shouldn’t be thinking about. Things like how I can’t remember if I’m wearing underwear or not. And how Ava’s crazy for always complaining about the guys wearing their sweats too damn much because he looks fucking hot in them. Of course, the fact he’s not wearing shit else isn’t hurting matters any.
    “You really think your timing’s bad?”
    I swallow. I think my tongue goes with it. And maybe my voice. And part of my brain cells. Because all I can do is shake my head.
    ***
    I feel like I’ve been fucking drowning and it’s only been getting worse since the lawyer called saying Moe’s considering a civil suit. I don’t care so much about the money he wants as I care about the fact I can’t seem to get rid of his ass now. Or the thoughts that haunt me day in and day out since he showed up again.
    I don’t know why, but seeing Bam Bam is like glimpsing a fucking life raft and all I want to do is climb on top of it and hold on for dear life. Literally. I don’t even care how wrong it is. Not right now. Because right now all I care about is breathing. And I can’t fucking breathe, unless I do the second stupidest thing I’ve ever done. And kiss her. Right now.
    “I’m only allowed to hug you,” she whispers as I lean in.
    “What?”
    “Eda said...” But she doesn’t finish her sentence. Instead she pulls me to her and grazes her soft lips over mine, until I can’t take it anymore and crush her mouth with mine. I don’t fucking understand it, but I need her. Just for a moment. Just so I can breathe. Then I’ll stop. Then I’ll apologize. When I can breathe again.
    Only I don’t stop. And neither does she. The whole room turns into a blur around us and the darkness I’ve been stuck in shifts into something new, something lighter. Something I can move around in. And it makes me move faster, more frantically, like maybe this moment of peace is fleeting and I’m scared to death of losing it again.
    Before I can think a rational thought and undo what has already gone beyond the point of no return, I’m tearing the dress Addy is wearing over her head, my hands running down her body, over her perfect soft skin until they land around the tight curve of her perfect ass. I lift her to me, carrying her across the room to my bed. And she lets me. Worse, the way she’s moving against me, her hands wrapped around the back of my head, fingers curled into my hair, I think maybe she’s been suffocating too.
    The frantic blur continues. Clothes continue to disappear. Then we’re on the bed and I’m on top of her. Inside of her. Kissing her, breathing her in. Taking everything she has to offer. Feeling her. Feeling me. My own body and the way it’s reacting to hers. It’s got a life of its own now. Like a fucking magnet drawn to metal, impossible to deter or distract or derail in any way, and desperate to be connected. That’s how she makes me feel. Connected.
    Then it’s over. My heart slows. My head clears. And I realize what I’ve done.
    “Fuck.” I scramble out of the bed as if I can somehow gain enough speed to go back in time if I do it fast enough. I can’t. There’s no undoing this. “I fucked up, Bam Bam. I’m sorry. Shit.” The expression on