THIS WOMAN IS killing me.

Literally.

I will be dead—and soon—because of her.

Because of this tattooed, dark-haired vixen, my life is over.

Done.

Finito.

Over.

Do I care?

Not one fucking bit. She’s worth it, and I’d do it over and over again. I’d forsake my career, my destiny, my life just to spend one second more with her. Of course, I say this now, having not yet been caught, but I know this to be true.

I will find a way to be with her for as long as I can.

Her green eyes are liquid lust as she grabs the hem of her wicked tank top and yanks it away from her body. Today, she’s wearing a black bra, and even though I want to see those pink, suckable nipples, I’m very much enjoying the view of her full tits spilling out of the top of her bra.

This woman is gorgeous. So fucking beautiful. Mine.

But for how long?

As long as she’ll have me. And as long as they’ll let me have her.

My hands find her hips and I urge her to push harder against my dick. The clothes between us seem like brick fucking walls. I need her skin on mine. Now.

As she reaches behind her back to unclasp her bra, I set to unbuttoning her jean shorts. Once she frees her breasts and tosses her bra away, she eyes me with one brow raised.

“This is going to be pretty difficult with clothes on,” she smiles.

I growl and roll her underneath me in the middle of the bed. “We better fix that, then.”

She giggles when I unzip her shorts and pull them down with her panties. I climb off the bed away from her and shed myself of my jeans. The boxers fall shortly thereafter, and then I’m back in bed between her legs—this time, with my mouth.

“I need to taste you, sweet Lark,” I murmur as my warning right before I dive in.

The moment my tongue slides between the lips of her pussy, she arches her back off of the bed. “Holy shit!” she cries out.

My hair gets tangled in her grasp, but it doesn’t slow my roll. I taste her like there’s no tomorrow—because there might not be. I pleasure her as if she’s my first and last—because she will be. I nibble her as if she’s my last meal—I can certainly hope.

With one hand holding her hip in place while I give her the best pleasure of her life, I slip a finger inside her wet opening. She’s so hot, tight, and perfect.

I curve my finger up and search for a place sure to make her crazy. The moment I find that elusive spot, she screams so loudly that I’m sure the neighbors will complain. Oh wait—she is the neighbor and I don’t hear her complaining.

I don’t have to circle her sensitive skin with my tongue for very long before she completely and utterly unravels. Her body quivers and violently shakes as she gives in to the sheer pleasure of another orgasm. The first one I gave her moments ago was sweet. This one was decadent and sinful.

“You’re so wet and ready for me,” I growl as I remove my finger from her body.

Her response is a ragged sigh. Green eyes are hidden behind her eyelids, and suddenly, I need to see her.

“Lark, look at me please.” I’m not sure where my abrupt insecurity comes from, but I have an overwhelming desire for her to want me just as badly as I want her. To make this all make sense. This can’t be one-sided. That would be the ultimate death for me.

She lazily blinks her eyes open and finds mine. So perfect.

“Do you want this? Me?” I question as I cover her body with mine. My dick, hard as stone, rests between us.

She raises her head in search for my lips, which will taste like her. I can’t kiss her until I know though.

“Lar, please,” I whisper against her eager lips.

“Yes, okay? I want this. You. Us. Now fuck me.”

This time, my eyes close. She’s Heaven and Hell in one delicious package.

When my eyes finally fly back open, I meet her pleading, green ones. Then I grab my aching cock and tease the part of her that drips for me.

“You’re mine, baby. Forever,” I tell her.

She bites her lip, seemingly uncertain, but nods.

I’ll take that as a deal.

I slam into her tight heat so hard that she screams even louder than before. Last week, we made love, but this morning, we’re fucking. And holy shit it’s amazing. It seems like it’s been an eternity since the last time I was inside her.

When our lips find one another again, I kiss her hard as I’m taking her. My tongue punishes her in a way that seems more like a painful reward. We bite. We suck. We take. We own.

“Oh, God!” she moans into my mouth. Her body is doing its telltale quivering, so I know she’s coming. When her pussy clamps down on my dick, I lose it. All of it. My release pours into her long and strong. I don’t stop my thrusting until I’m sure she’s completely filled with me. Only me.

“I love you,” I murmur and suck on her bottom lip.

Her tiny palms find my chest, and she slightly pushes me up away from her. “You’re insane,” she breathes out against my mouth.

I expect her to be angry, but her eyes tear up again.

“How can you love me, Al? You barely know me.”

But I do know her. I feel like I’ve always known her. Like I always will.

“I just do. I knew the moment I laid eyes on you.”

I rest my cheek against her neck and physically stay connected with her. Her fingertips stroke my wings, and it feels amazing. Who needs Heaven when she’s already in your arms? Who needs wings when you have an angel in your grasp? Who needs a career when your purpose is right in front of you?

“Al?” she finally murmurs, her fingers never stopping their movements.

“Yes, sweet Lark?”

“We need to talk.”

I sigh. “I know.” Lifting up on my elbows, I look down at her.

“How do you know that name? It’s nowhere in my apartment, yet you know the name of my dead husband.”

Connor. Her dead husband.

The name feels like my own. But is it? Did I read it in her file? Was it casually looked over as I thumbed through the pages of her life and tossed aside into some dark recess of my mind to later be uncovered?

The file didn’t say a damn thing about a dead husband. And it certainly didn’t state his name.

The name just came to me.

Do I come clean? Do I tell her I’m a fucking angel-in-training?

“The name just came to me. My memory is blank up until I got my new, um, job. When I thought about the name, I just assumed it was my name,” I admit.

She looks skeptical but hasn’t slapped me yet. Progress.

“Do you have amnesia or something? Why don’t you remember?”

I shrug my shoulders because I can’t really tell her.

“Well, before you start claiming my dead husband’s name, make sure it’s yours to claim first,” she snips out.

Then a thought hits me. Could I be?

“Well, that’s certainly the most bitable ass I’ve ever seen,” Lovenia giggles from the doorway of my room.

Before I can reply, Lark grabs my blanket and tosses it over my ass.

“Show’s over, ho,” she snaps at Love.

I look over my shoulder to see Lovenia standing in nothing but Omega’s white, button-up dress shirt. Her dark nipples are showing through her shirt, and her hair is slightly messy. Looks like they were fucking just as hard as we were.

“Ho? And this comes from the woman with her legs spread open and a man’s come running from her. A man she’s only known less than a month,” Lovenia snarls back.

Lark tenses beneath me.

I peck her on the lips and pull out of her. Sliding next to Lark, I turn my attention toward Lovenia, who smiles sweetly at me and winks.

“What do you want, Love? Don’t you need to go keep my best friend warm in his bed?” I question in annoyance. I owe this woman big, but I think busting in on us having sex is a little much.

“Just wanted to tell you one teensy little thing, Al. Remember our conversation last week? If our deal still stands, zip your lips on our ‘government’ work. I had a feeling you were about to spill the beans to your girlfriend there. Do we still have a deal, mister?”

Fuck you, Lovenia.

I turn my head away from her and look down at my dark angel. My sweet Lark.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper to Lark.

She frowns at my words.

“Yes, Love. A deal’s a deal.”

Lovenia giggles all the way out of my room and down the hallway back to Omega. I groan in frustration.

“I hate her,” Lark seethes.

I turn my attention back to the angry woman beside me. “No, you don’t.” I sigh and peck her on the cheek.

She rolls her eyes, seemingly unconvinced. I drink in her angry features before rubbing my nose against hers. I’ll never tire from touching her. Ever. That is exactly my thought as my hand slides up her bare chest, and I touch the cross again.

“Did he give this to you?” I ask as I turn the simple cross over in my fingers.

When her eyes find mine, they mist over. The wound from having lost her family still bleeds profusely and is visible to anyone who takes the time to know her.

“Yes. He gave it to me before he left for his tour of duty,” she murmurs.

The hurt in her eyes coupled with the fondness of which she speaks for him twists in my gut. I attempt to force it away, but something ugly curls its way into my heart. As I take a moment to understand what this unfamiliar emotion is, I realize that it’s jealousy.

I’m jealous of her dead husband. Jealous of gifts he gave her ages ago. Jealous of the way she still loves him.

I want her to love me.

“Al, we can’t be friends or lovers or whatever it is we are,” she bursts out suddenly with a rush of air.

The green-eyed monster leaves the building as panic sets in.

“What? Why not?” I demand.

Her pink lips pout out, and my eyes are dragged down to them.

“There are too many secrets. I told you my story, but you won’t tell me yours. You say you work for the government, but it’s bullshit, Al. If you think I believe that, then you’re out of your mind. So, if you think we can be”—she waves between us—“whatever we are, then I suggest you fess up. Your secrets are safe with me.”

God, how I want to tell her. All of it. But I can’t.

Her green eyes pin me down, and I can’t help but defiantly meet her gaze. I will tell her one day. I think. Today’s just not that day.

“Lark,” I tell her in faux seriousness, “I’m an alien and I’ve come to snatch your body!”

She furrows her brows in annoyance, but when I begin to tickle her, she squeals with laughter and I’m allowed a temporary reprieve from her damn ultimatums.

“S-stop, y-y-ou a-a-sshole!”

Finally, I stop and admire the way her beautifully colored bare chest heaves from exertion. I want to spend all day worshipping every inch of her breasts with my tongue. From experience, I know she tastes sweeter than any syrup. More delicious than any cake or candy. She tastes like Heaven.

I should know.

“Alpha. The truth.”

How the hell am I going to get out of this?

Dipping my lips to her ear, I speak in a whisper. “Trust me that I’ll find a way to tell you. Just know there’s a big picture here. One you don’t understand. Hell, I don’t even understand it.” I nibble her lobe. “But what I do know is that you and I are here, together. Know that I’ve given up everything to be with you. Trust me, Twiggy.”

She’s quiet for a moment but turns her head a bit to give me better access to her ear. The way she writhes uncontrollably against my body sends a thrill of hope through me. I affect her, and as long as I can get my hands on her, she’ll always give in.

I need her to give in—for now.

With an exaggerated sigh, she mumbles, “I’ll try.”

Her answer will have to be good enough—for now.