Lost Feather (The Forgotten Angel, #1)

by Merri Bright

One hundred percent commando. Pants-free on the bottom and loose up top. Free-boobing it in Heaven? This was so on brand for me. And no knickers meant this hottie was probably as bare as a true Scotsman under that toga.

No! Bad Feather. Stop objectifying the hot angel. Say hello, shake hands, and stop thinking about whether he’s free-balling it.

“The difference between him and you is that you can wash off your smut. I can already tell that underneath, you’re amazing. He could bathe for eternity; you can’t wash off smug prick.”

I closed my eyes, imagining Growly Bear as a strict principal who called me into his office to lecture me on how tight my clothing was. Of course, I had to sit on his lap for the reprimand, his hard, muscled thigh flexing right underneath my aching— “Pay attention!”

Oh, holy poison berries, I don’t even care. The taste exploded on my tongue like an orgasm in my mouth. A mouthgasm? A fruit finale? A culinary climax?

Gah, where was the camera when you needed one? I could sell a million copies of a college bully romance with that exact lip angle on the cover. If I could get him to slip the toga-robe thing down a little, I could sell ten million.

“Yes, Sunny,” I said soothingly. I felt like she should know this by now. “It’s called sex. The Daddy angel takes a very special part of himself and puts it into the Mommy angel—”

“Yeah, my vajayjay. My bajingo. My front bottom. My penis fly trap. My lady garden. My beef curtains. My—” “Stop!” I pleaded. “Stop talking!”

“I get that a lot. I’m a Protector magnet. It’s my eyes. Or maybe my smut. My smutshakes bring all the boys to the yard…”

“I knew he mated you… but you merged? How was that even possible?” I chewed at my lip and fought back a smile. “Well, you see, Righteous, when a Mommy angel and a Daddy angel love each other very much—”