Defending My Mobster (BWWM Romance) by Tasha Jones, Interracial Love

lot, but that didn’t matter. Not to me it didn't.
     
    “I’m good,” I tried telling him.
     
    “No you’re not. You almost died. I almost lost you,” he said in a grief-choked voice.
     
    Sighing softly, I didn’t even have the energy to argue about it, but I had some good points. One of which involved something about this being ‘commonplace’. I was sure that it would be, though. Angel was the head of a criminal organization, and probably had more enemies than I had fingers and toes. This kind of thing came with the territory. It seemed strange that I just accepted that fact, but I did.
     
    “Okay,” I said instead.
     
    Helping me sit up, Angel wrapped his arm around my back and set the bowl of steaming soup on the nightstand. He carefully pushed my hair from my face and caressed my cheek before pressing his lips to mine. It was a soft kiss, a hesitant one, and it made me melt. It was the best medicine I could have gotten.
     
    “I would’ve gone crazy without you,” he mumbled as he kissed my face, making me smile. Sometimes he was just too cute to believe he was actually ordering someone’s death only less than a half an hour ago.
     
    “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he said.  At the absent demand, I couldn’t stop myself from giggling as much as I could.
     
    Cute didn’t even begin to describe Angel.
     
    “I’ll try not to,” I answered.
     
    Angel fed me by hand in quiet, but every few minutes I would feel his cell phone ping. Since he didn’t pick it up, I assumed that meant everything was going good. At least things were going great inside the safe house.
     
    “So-o… we’re going to be alone here and I don’t know how long,” he told me. With a full stomach and a groggy mind, it was hard to focus on what Angel was whispering in my ear. After a moment, though, I let out a soft huff before snuggling deeper into his chest.
     
    He had such a nice chest, with only lightly defined muscles that were like a steel cushion. I liked cushions.
     
    “Is almost dying all it takes to sleep with you?” I asked.
     
    “Yeah.” Breathing out the response, Angel had picked the absolute worst time to be all sexy. Why, of all times to bring up sex, did it have to be when I was almost unconscious? Maybe it was all a dream. I have had some great dreams about Angel, I remembered.
     
    “Sleep first. Sleep later,” I mumbled. I felt Angel chuckle at my near incoherent words before laying back on the bed. He moved me so I was tucked in his side, with my legs thrown over his because I just couldn’t move them.
     
    “Sleep, bella. You deserve it,” I was told. I happily obliged.
     
    When I woke up again I felt a lot better, by miles. It helped that Angel was passed out next to me and there was a thin comforter over us to keep me toasty warm. Pushing myself on my hands slowly, I ran my hand through my hair and sighed. Clarity was much more easily reached now and the seriousness of the situation was beginning to settle on me. Mark had tried to kill me, an intern at the firm I worked for. Angel was going to have him killed, but that didn’t really bother me, considering he did attempt to murder me. The thing about it was that Mark didn’t even try to do it in a manly way. He’d chickened out and used poison. I mean he didn't try with a gun, or a knife. Poison! That was considered by some to be a woman’s trick.
     
    I realized my life was really messed up right now if I was thinking about this kind of stuff.
     
    “Angel. Angel,” I said. Poking his cheek, I muttered his name before yawning, covering my mouth since I probably needed to brush my teeth. He did not need to awaken to bad breath.
     
    “What is it, Nia?” Wrapping his arm around my waist lazily, Angel’s voice was husky and deep from sleep. It made me smile. Leaning down, I figured it was time to get him back for all those moments where he left me hanging.
     
    “I want to take a bath,” I whispered softly, I felt