The softclickof the door shutting behind them fills the air, and Cignette lets go of a tired breath before climbing into my bed. She props an elbow on the pillow next to mine, then lies down beside me – our feet bumping against each other’s.
She slides the fingers of one of her hands into my hair and starts massaging my scalp, while the fingers of her other hand daintily brush the white bandage that’s stuck to my left side. A haunted kind of look crosses her beautiful features, and her eyes darken further – as if she’s lost in thought.
“Hey,” I tell her, then cup her jaw to bring her close to me. “Hi.”
She blinks at me. “You have abs,” she says, pulling herself out of that momentary lapse.
A surprised laugh leaves me at her words. I pull my hand away from her jaw and place it under my head. “I thought it was a given that I’d have them.”
She meets my gaze again, and when I grin at her a second time, her eyes clear over. “Why is it a given?” she asks, then runs the pads of her fingers over every muscled indent of my abs.
“I mean… I’m hot, for one. And I own a Harley. And a garage. And let’s not forget that I’m a killer, which also makes me the most dangerous guy in all of Riverside. And I’ve got the personality of a–”
“Dick-deprived salamander.”
I choke on a laugh as I stare up at her, and she looks back at me with a plain expression on her face.
“Excuse me?”
“I said what I said,” she says matter-of-factly. “You were turning into a narcissistic version of Shakespeare; I had to put a stop to it.”
I chuckle. “Touché.”
She rolls her eyes, then frowns as she scans my face. “You look so tired,” she observes.
“I mean, Ididget stabbed tonight,” I counter. “Also, you look so fucking sexy in that hoodie.”
She exhales in annoyance. “You’re such a…guy.”
“I know.” I yawn, and it’s so intense that it makes my vision a bit spotty.
“You need to rest, Dorran,” she says, then massages my scalp again. “Get some sleep.”
I hum. “Yeah…” The word comes out slurry, and it’s followed by yet another yawn.
“You need any meds?” she asks.
I shake my head.
She cups my jaw and presses a kiss on my lips.
I groan, and my cock shifts behind my sweats when I get a taste of her.
I hold her jaw in place and part her lips, then suck on her tongue before merging our mouths in a way that makes it impossible for either of us to breathe. But I don’t stop; I continue to kiss her. Becausefuck, who needs air when I’ve got her gasping against me like this.
“Dor…” she whispers my name, then punctuates it with a soft kiss before moving back just slightly. “You need to sleep.” She nudges my nose with hers, then runs her knuckles over my cheek.
“Will you be here when I wake up?” I ask, and realize that it makes me appear vulnerable. It’s not like I care, though, simply because I’ve been nothing but transparent with Cignette since we started this – whatever this is between us.
She can take my memories, my weaknesses, and my strengths. And, because I’m only human – however ruthless I can be during the times that call for it – I like to believe that I still have a lot of flaws. Cignette can take them all, and I can carry hers, because we’re sides of the same coin; a combination of divergence and similarity, molded into sculptures of flesh and bone and blood.
Her face softens as she smiles at me. “Of course,” she answers easily. “I wouldn’t trade this position for anything.” She kisses me again.
I close my eyes and smile against her mouth.
Whoever says morally grey guys don’t appreciate tranquility and wholesome moments in their lives, is full of shit. Because I’m as grey as grey goes, and I’ve still got a boner as hard as a fucking brick from the brief cheese-talk Cignette and I just had.
It’s all about enjoying the moment and calming your inner demons – albeit temporarily – and mine drift away without hesitation when Cignette takes over my mind. Deep shit, right?
