“Have you never been in love before, Emmanuel?” Evie asks. “I mean, not that you are now, but you’re not exactly young. Surely, you’ve had girlfriends before me. Not that I’m your girlfriend either,” she’s quick to clarify.
“You are mine. I don’t care what label you put on it. You are mine, Evie Carter,” I tell her before slamming my lips on hers. My tongue pushes into her mouth. Evie’s arms snake around my neck as she pulls me towards her.
By the time we pull away, she’s breathless. “You didn’t answer my question,” she says.
“What question?” I ask, even though I know the answer. It’s not a conversation I want to have, especially with Evie.
“Have you had a girlfriend before?” she repeats.
“Once, when I was a teenager,” I say. “You know,this shop looks amazing, mi alma. You ever thought about franchising?”
“Who was she?” Evie presses.
“It was a long time ago and it’s the past. It doesn’t matter. What matters is the future. And you, mi alma, are my future.”
“The fact you don’t want to talk about her tells me she matters, E. I’m not going to get all hurt or jealous over some teenage girlfriend, you know. I’ve dated people before too.”
“I don’t want to talk about the men you’ve dated, Evie. I want to rip their heads off. I don’t like the idea of knowing other people have tasted you, that other people know what you feel like. You are mine. Everything about you is mine,” I growl. My arm wraps around her, and I pull her body flush against me.
“Emmanuel, you’re shaking,” Evie whispers.
“Because the thought of you being with other men makes me murderous.”
“You should probably get a shrink.” She laughs. “That’s not normal.”
No, it’s not normal, but it’s who I am.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I chuckle and press my lips to the top of her head. “You know I was serious about you franchising this place,” I tell her. “You have created something very unique here. It’s amazing.”
“I don’t have the capital for that kind of investment, E. And, honestly, it’s a lot to keep up with one store. I couldn’t imagine doing more.”
I did a wire transfer into her bank account two days ago. She hasn’t seen it yet, because if she had, she’d know she had thecapitalto do whatever the fuck she wanted. The fact she’s not screaming bloody murder at me is also a dead giveaway she hasn’t noticed it.
Chapter Nineteen
Lying in bed with Emmanuel’s arms around me, I feel safe. That feeling tells me I’ve lost my damn mind. There is nothing safe about this man. I can’t seem to stay away, though. I’m drawn to him in a way I’ve never been drawn to anything in my life. It’s both suffocating and like being able to fully breathe for the first time.
Confusing is what it is. And I have no idea what to do about it. Which is why I’m giving him theweek he so desperately wants. After this week, I’ll return to my life in my small town, and he’ll go back to Mexico. Sure, our paths will probably cross again. Our best friends are married to each other.
My fingers trace over the letters that spell out my name on his arm. It’s insane that he tattooed this on him. Truth is, I secretly love it. I can’t recall a time someone has wanted to memorialize me to the point of having my name permanently on their skin.
I wonder if he has the other girl’s name on him. The one he so clearly did not want to talk about? I should make a point to inspect every inch of this man’s body, just to find out. I didn’t want to press him about her, because there are plenty of things in my past that I never want to tell him either. It would be hypocritical for me to push him to open up if I’m not prepared to do the same. There’s also a small part of me that is jealous, no matter how stupid that is.
I close my eyes and inhale, loving the warmth that surrounds me. Emmanuel’s arms tighten around my body. He’s been asleep for the last thirty minutes. I don’t want to move, because I don’t want to wake him. Also, I like being right here. Next to him.
“No, don’t touch me!” I cry out, struggling against his hold.
A scream jolts me and my eyes pop open. I look around the room. Emmanuel is sitting next to me on the bed, his jaw tense. Something’s made him angry. I want to reach out and pull him into my arms, comfort him. But then he opens his mouth.
“Who?” he growls. His voice deep, cold. His eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them.
“Did I fall asleep?” I ask. That never happens. We’re still on the plane, so I couldn’t have slept for long.
“Who the fuck touched you, Evie? I want a name.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie.
“You cried outdon’t touch me. Don’t lie to me, Evie,” he says.
