My expression is purely charmed.
“But still!” He goes on. “Not even one…? When you were young?”
“Not my thing.” I shrug.
He stares. “Then… why did you want to date me?”
“I told you, baby…” I drop to my knees beside him on the couch, trailing his jaw with my fingers. “You’re special. Youaredifferent, Angelito. And I just want to spend time with you.”
He looks completely flabbergasted. I think I really love it…
“Okay.” He nods enthusiastically. “Let’s eat then. I’m starving.”
So… maybe there is something to be said for having no fucking clue what in the holy fuck you’re doing.
“I’m full.” Angel slumps into my side.
I can’t help smiling at how good this feels. Caring for him.
It’s odd. I’ve never seen myself taking care of anyone. If anything, I’ve always considered myself morehurtthancomfort.
I trade in despair, not delight. But Angel brings outotherdesires.
I used to wonder… If Ididfinally get him someday, how long would it take to bleed him dry?
Surely, that was theplan, right? Drain him of every last drop of his luster, and when I was replete, strengthened by his life-force, I would discard the hollowed shell of what he once was.
It’s what I do, after all.
But the way it felt to finally get him back, after everything that led to it—thinking he was dead, and the misery I had to overcome for those two days, and then the rage at knowing he was under my nose for so long, rotting in the prison—told me this might not be as simple as I thought. The moment he ambushed me in my bedroom and put a knife to my throat, I felt this wave ofcompletioncome over me. It’s something I’ve only ever felt variations of a handful of times…
When I killed Ocho, and took over the cartel.
The first time I set foot in the mansion.
When I found Jonathan…
But when my little bird flew back into my life for what Iknewwould be the last time, it was the most potent sense of fulfillment. It’s as if I don’t need to take from him, because his just being here makes me feel whole. So might as wellgive.
It’s not even all about the sex. Thatisevery bit as addicting as I always knew it would be, but it’s not all I want from him, which is fucking crazy.
I don’t think I want to use him up and leave him for dead, because then… there won’t be any of him left. And I don’t want him to go, ever. I don’t want this to end.
Who the hellamI when he’s around?
“But pajarito, I had something sweet made just for you,” I murmur, distracting myself by playing with his hair.
I can’t seem to stop. It’s just so soft, and it smells amazing.
Good God, I’m smitten. It’s highly alarming.
He rolls his head in my direction. “As in… dessert?” He licks his lip. “Ordessert?”
I press a kiss on his nose. “I like the way you think, cariño.”
Hopping up, I bring our plates to the kitchen, and gather up the dessert, bringing everything into the den. I thought it would be more comfortable, and honestly, more intimate, if we ate in the den, rather than in the kitchen. My kitchen up here isn’t as big as the one downstairs, but it’s the perfect size for just me. There’s a small eat-in area where I eat on occasion. But more often than not, I eat in the den, which is like an adjoining living room of sorts.
This is where I opted to sit with Angel for our meal, prepared special by the chef and left warming in the oven. I didn’t want to be interrupted by anyone mulling around, and I’m more than capable of serving my own food.
