Page 67 of His Prince
I shift slightly and Angel murmurs against my neck, his body entirely on me now, his morning wood pressed against mine in the most…infuriating way.
He wiggles against me, slowly waking up, and I let my hands fall away from his warm skin.
“Oh,” he breathes, stretching against me before freezing and thenrolling to the side. “Oh, why were you cuddling with me?” he asks, an accusing tone in his no longer sleep-addled voice.
“Mecuddling withyou?” I’m almost indignant now.
“Yes, old man. You cuddling with me.”
He rolls his eyes, and I feel my hands twitch beside me.
I open my mouth to refute this, but then slam it closed. There’s no point in telling him. It will only make him stop doing it.
He rolls up and runs a hand through his messy hair, my eyes following his languid movements.
“I’m going to go downstairs and make breakfast,” he says as he slips out of bed, completely naked, his tight ass on display, my fingerprints on his hips. Black and blue. My cock perks up at the sight of it.
He grabs a sheer robe and slides it on, everything on display.
I feel a growl rumble up my chest despite telling myself not to.
“Put on something else,” I growl, knowing I made a mistake the moment those words leave my mouth. He just glances at me over his shoulder and throws me a wink before disappearing out the bedroom door.
And I’m left in bed, more frustrated than I’ve ever been in my entire life.
When I finally make it to the kitchen, there are entirely too many people lounging about. And I swear I catch a few of my men ogling Angel’s ass in that damn robe. I should fire them all. There is far too much testosterone in here.
Although, my men may not be the real problem. Nina is actually smiling at Angel.Smiling.
She’s never smiled at me. Ever.
Although that may be saying something about me and not her. This is proven when as soon as she catches me looming, her lips turn down into a frown.
Well then.
I move toward my husband, who is dishing everyone else up, and then elbow Andrew out of the way as he stands far too close, the dashing bastard. He’s too good-looking to be working with numbers all day.
He should really take it down a notch or ten.
“Have you eaten?” I finally ask when Andrew moves out of the way. Angel peers up at me with those beautiful eyes, slightly confused by my question.
“What do you mean?”
“Haveyoueaten?”
“Not yet,” he replies and hands me a plate of food.
I gently shove it back at him and then tug him toward the island, moving Titus out of the way so he can take a seat.
“You eat. I can dish everyone up.”
Angel’s lips are parted, at a loss for words.
I don’t know why he looks like a fish out of water. Everyone is taking advantage of him. He needs to fucking eat.
Silence pings around the room when I grab the spatula, and I turn my gaze to glower at everyone, especially Andrew, who is looking far too pleased with this.
“Anyone who wants seconds can get it themselves,” I growl, grabbing myself a plate, filling it, and striding to the corner to eat like a gargoyle.