A dimpled smirk smacks me in the solar plexus as its radiance challenges the sun. “All in good time, ангел.”
Just the name alone turns me to mush, and I fall back onto the blanket as Saint sits back on his heels at my feet. He peers down at me with such hunger, I feel myself turning red all over. He takes his time combing over every inch of me as I do him.
His long hair is wild, his chest is rippling, and his tattoos come to life before me. The delicate feathers that sweep across his taut biceps leave me breathless. He is truly the angel. The scars across his body only have me loving him all the more.
With a gentle touch, he sweeps his fingertips across my tattoo. My skin instantly breaks out into goose bumps. He traces each letter, appearing mesmerized by the sight. Who knew five lette
