“I crashed in one, yes. You would’ve loved it.”
He smiles and slides closer. “You’re crazy for coming here.”
“You would’ve done the same for me.”
“A bit more subtly, but yes. I’m going to kiss you now.”
“Can Hector… feel what we’re doing?”
“Maybe. Do you care?”
I do, but not enough to give up on this opportunity. I almost lost everything for this moment, and having him here is proof enough that I made the right choice.
I brush my lips with his. “I like your little beard.”
“I like your ass.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“True. Your ass is smooth.”
I kiss him, slipping my tongue into his warm mouth. We take it slow, savoring this moment. I almost expect him to disappear, to find out that this is one of Hector’s tricks, but the more we kiss and touch, the more confident I feel that this is real.
I rise to sit on his hips and pull off my shirt, revealing the bandages that still cover my wounds and bruises, even though the pain has mostly passed.
Caden traces my skin with his fingers, anger in his eyes.
“It doesn’t hurt much,” I say. “I know you have some of your own.”
He pulls off his shirt, and I gasp at the sight of the blue and purple bruises.
“I barely feel it. Hector’s gift makes it bearable.”
“His… gift?”
He shakes his head. “Let’s not get into it. I don’t know how long he’ll let me stay, and you still have clothes on.”
I slip out of my pants and underwear, then pull down the rest of Caden's clothes. Looking past the bruises, it’s impossible not to notice he’s in better shape than I’ve ever seen him. It saddens me to think of what he must have gone through to achieve that.
“I want you to fuck me,” I say.
“He’s in the apartment.”
“He said he wouldn’t eavesdrop.” That was likely a lie, but I choose to believe this room is private. A childish part of me feels entitled to this moment.
“Did you see my tattoo?”
“When I watched you fighting, but I didn’t see it clearly.”
He turns on his stomach. I scan every scale that covers his skin, from his nape down to his lower back. I’m searching for mistakes, like the many I have on my back, but Caden’s tattoo is perfect, as though he was born with these scales.
“Who did it?” I ask.
“Hector.”
“Did it hurt?”
He sighs. “Like hell itself.”
