“We were providing a service,” I argue, letting a smirk shine through. “People were desperate for that holy water.” Thiago snorts.
“They wanted to bless their homes, not to spray their furniture with whatever came out of the gas station tap.” Avery gasps and tilts her head, delight sparkling in her blue eyes.
“How did you not get caught?”
Thiago leans forward, elbows on his knees, as he sneaks a churro after all. “Oh, we did. One of the older ladies caught on when her home started smelling like a sewer. She tried to kill us with her cane.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, my cheeks burning.
“She nearly took my arm off, and her tiny dog held a grudge. Chased us every time we walked past.”
“I never understood how that damn chihuahua managed to escape that fence every single time.” Thiago takes a bite of his food. Reaching down, he lifts the leg of his jeans to reveal the tiny scars peppering his ankles. “That yappy little demon needs holy water more than anything. How come it never seemed to bite you?” It’s my turn to grunt this time.
“I was faster.”
Thiago chuckles, shaking his head. “Didn’t stop your screaming, though. The dog was barking, you were screaming, and I swear, the whole neighborhood was watching.” Avery loses it, her head dropping back on the sofa. She grips my arm as she laughs, a full-bodied sound I can’t help but mimic. It was stupid of me to think anything Avery heard in this room would matter. She loves me for who I am now, not the toerag I once was. Her words are broken, heaved out between her hysterics.
“I cannot picture you two menaces running from an angry old lady and her dog.”
“Her demon,” Thiago corrects, holding up his index finger. Avery shakes her head and wipes at her eyes, still giggling. My cousin’s pale eyes are alight with amusement, reveling in the way Avery is responding to his stories. Another feeling that is neither distress nor humor arises, that lump in my throat subsiding.
“Oh, there’s plenty more where that came from, Querida.” Thiago smirks at me, knowing exactly what he’s doing. I narrow my eyes, my jaw tensing. “There was the time we headed to the docks and offered to wash the boats for cheap.”
“That’s enough of that,” I interject, sitting forward. Avery’s legs are dislodged, and she’s forced to straighten, but I’m too focused on removing the tray from Thiago’s reach. “Don’t you have some work to be doing?”
“Aww, don’t be a grouch, Dax,” Avery pouts, her hands on myshoulders. “I could listen to this all day.” I give her a side glance, assessing her wicked smile. I know she could, and that’s the problem.
“I’d rather you were kissing me all day,” I return her grin. She seems to like that idea, and Thiago huffs, just like I knew he would.
“Fine, be boring love birds. I’ll just go back to my hole,” Thiago stands. I feel a small pang of guilt until he snatches the tray from my hands. “And I’m taking this with me.” I let him go, deciding to pull him up for his shit-stirring later. As he slips between the polished mahogany shelves towering around us, seemingly going back to looking for whatever book brought him in here, I turn into Avery’s waiting hug.
Her arms slide around my neck as I sink into her embrace, my fragile fingers pressing into the small of her back. They throb slightly but I don’t retract them, too wrapped up in finally being about to hold my girl properly again. Avery is still warm with laughter, her breath light against my jaw as she tilts her head up, blue eyes bright and searching. I don’t hesitate. I cup her cheek, letting my thumb trace the soft curve of her cheek before leaning in, brushing my lips over hers in a slow, deliberate kiss. Avery sighs against my mouth, her fingers threading through my hair as she angles herself closer, her chest pressing against mine.
The library around us fades, the scent of aged books and the scuffing of Thiago’s sneakers melting away. I inhale Avery’s vanilla scent, drawing her deep into my lungs and further into my heart. I crave these moments when we’re alone, when she gets to be solely mine.
Her hands slip lower, gripping the fabric of my shirt like she never wants to let go either, and I groan against her mouth, pulling her onto my lap. She moves easily, her thighs framing mine, her weight settling onto me. The velvet of the sofa is soft beneath us, but it’s nothing compared to the silk of her skin as my palm skims up her spine, drawing shivers in its wake. I press a trail of kisses along her jaw, down the column of her throat, relishing the way she tilts her head back to give me more.
“I’ve always loved you,” I murmur as my lips brush over her pulse. “Even before I knew you.”
“I’m all yours, Dax,” Avery sighs against me. Our mouths collide again and again, the speed of my pulse increasing. I could have Avery likethis forever and never tire of her lips, her body or her mind. She’s beautiful in every possible way.
Pushing against my chest so I’m forced to lie back and look up at her, Avery tilts her brow over her large, curious eyes. “What does querida mean?” My hands clench on her waist automatically, a sudden pain shooting up my fingers but I manage to ignore it.
“Something my cousin shouldn’t be calling you.” I raise my hips to grind against her, tightening my hold. Avery doesn’t miss the move, my jealousy reigniting something in her blue gaze. Her smile is full of trouble, disappearing as she leans in to lick a path across my throat.
“You don’t call me pet names in Portuguese,” she nibbles my earlobe. A choked sound escapes my lips, punctuated by my hips snapping again to push my hardening cock against her center.
“Are you complaining?” I turn my head, capturing her lips bruisingly this time. Where I usually provide gentle strokes, my hands grip Avery’s thighs in a demanding hold, dragging her along my length. She meets each roll of my hips, rubbing my shaft through my sweatpants, creating a weeping mess in my boxers. Tremors roll down my arms as I hold back, reminding myself that I’m not this type of man for her. She has enough egotistical assholes to deal with.
Pulling back, I breathe a few times, forcing myself to fill the heated silence. “Thi and his mom came to the US much later, so she only spoke Portuguese with him at home. I was born here, and my mom wanted me to be more Westernized. She was worried about me fitting in, so we made an effort to always speak in English.”
Avery nods, and although I know she was only teasing, she looks at me with fresh eyes. I let her explore my face with her gaze and her hands, happy to give her the time to work through whatever is going on in her beautiful mind. Perhaps Thiago has given her a new opinion of me, but she’s still here. Still smiling at me as if I’m special.
“What are you thinking?” I ask, trailing my fingers over her thighs. Avery chews on her lip, contemplating her answer.
“You’ve never needed anything from me.”
“I need many things from you, Swan. And you provide them all.” I reply instantly. Reaching up, I curl a hand around her nape, and she melts into my touch. There’s a small shake of her head, dislodging the hair from behind her ears.
“No, not like the others. You haven’t needed help to heal with anything.” I smile at this. It’s in Avery’s nature to help people, to feel the need to fix them. Tugging her closer, I let our breath mingle and lips toy with each other.
