I lick mine as I think of them. For a moment there, I wanted to thank him by throwing my arms around him. Kissing him. I was so relieved, so…awake.
Is he my type? I don’t know. I’ve never had a type. Never had the luxury.
I’ve only known endurance since my parents died. Giuseppe protected me, but then I grew up, and Remo wanted the Mafia Princess.
My life is about survival, not flirtation.
Proms, dates, hookups—those are for girls who don’t grow up with death threats folded into their birthday cards.
I’ve kissed one man,once,and not willingly. Remo grabbed me on my sixteenth birthday. It felt like a brand, not a kiss, like he was trying to stake a claim.
There has been no one since then. I can’t allow it. Not because I’m a saint, but because I can’t afford to be careless. Affection is leverage. Vulnerability is ammunition.
Then there are the fears.
What if they found me?
What if they hurt the man I was with?
What if…?
My life is a series of what-ifs!
So why is my pulse skipping now? Why did the sound of this man’s voice, the stranger in the shadows, linger in my head like a song I forgot I liked?
Why did my knees go weak when he said, “You okay?”
How mundane can a question be?
But it’s been a long time since someone genuinely wanted to know if I am okay. He did. I have a feeling he meant it.
Making castles in the sky, Calista?
Whatever!
Is it wrong to have a good-looking man in your spank bank?
Honestly, Calista, when you see red flags, you run from them, you don’t power walk toward them.
But he saved me, right?
Talk about suffering from a savior complex! Classic amateur move:mistaking gratitude for attraction.
Or…or maybe this is my heart finally recognizing someone who lives in the shadows like I do. Maybe his demons and mine can come out and play?
Stop!
I don’t want to feel this. I don’t want to feel nausea, thinking I may never see him again. I don’t want to feel nausea, thinking Iamgoing to see him again. I don’t want the flush on my chest or the ache between my legs?—
God save me!
I want him. I want a man whose name I don’t know because he’s the kind of man who doesn’t give his name out.
Who knows, maybemysterious and broodingis code forprofessionally lethal?
He looks like he’s emotionally unavailable, the woman pressing the alarm bell in my brain so hard it’s giving me a headache, warns.
Maybe emotional unavailability is just part of his aesthetic?
