"Yes." The car hits a pothole and I wince, glancing to check on her.
She curls her knees up to her chest. "Tha's creepy."
"Yes." I adjust the temperature, turning the heat up a notch.
Her eyes drift to my lap, then back to my face. "Can't believe you're hard right now."
I shift in my seat, jaw clenching. "I'm not anymore."
"Liar." Her lips curve into a drowsy half-smile.
She's not entirely wrong.
At the penthouse, I carry her to the elevator. To her apartment. To her bedroom. The familiar scent of her space, vanilla, coconut, that underlying warmth, makes my chest tight.
She's mostly unconscious now. I set her on the bed. My hands shake as I remove her heels. Pull the covers over her.
She grabs my hand.
"Stay."
"Marisol…"
"Not like… not sex. Jus' stay. Please. I don't want to be alone."
I should go. Should maintain distance. That's what today was about. Discipline, control.
But she's looking at me with those honey eyes, mascara streaked, and she said please.
I sit on the bed's edge. Don't lie down. Don't touch her beyond the hand she's holding.
She's almost asleep. Words slurred, barely audible.
"You said you want me."
I brush a strand of hair from her face. "Go to sleep."
Her fingers tighten around mine. "Said you wanted to pin me against…"
"Sleep." My thumb traces circles on the back of her hand.
She turns her face into the pillow, voice muffled. "No one wants me. Not really. Not when they see."
I swallow hard, watching the rise and fall of her chest. "I see. And I still want you."
Her eyes flutter open briefly, struggling to focus. "…promise?"
"Yes." The word feels heavy in my mouth.
She shifts, her dress catching moonlight. "You're prob'ly lying."
My jaw tightens. "I'm not."
"Everyone lies." Her words slur as she fights to stay conscious.
I lean closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Not about this."
Quiet. Her breathing deepens, evens out. I think she's asleep.
