He snorts.
“Okay, Travolta.”
“I’m serious.”
“Just don’t start singing.”
“I got chills—”
“STOP.”
“They’re multiplying—”
He’s giggling now, the sound lifting the weight off my soul, making my heart soar. I kiss him then, and he immediately hijacks it, kissing me with wild abandonment. I lift him up and he wraps his arms and legs around me, deepening the kiss.
“I want to have sex,” he says urgently. “Tonight.”
God, I want it. I want it so much that I have to force the wordsout.
“Not like this,” I say as tenderly as I can.
He recoils like I stabbed his heart.
“So you don’t want me? Is it my inexperience? Is it the Labubu thing?”
His lower lip is trembling again.
“I knew it. I can’t compete with billions of—”
I interrupt him with a kiss—a ruthless, silent promise. I feel dizzy with desire when I let him go.
“There is no competition,” I say, my voice rough.
“Never has been. I’ve only ever been yours. I didn’t always know it, but it’s true.”
He pouts, his wet lashes fluttering.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.” I wipe the tears from his cheeks.
“Don’t remind me!”
“Stay the night,” I suggest, relieved that the worst of the storm has passed.
He narrows his eyes. “What would we do?”
“You can make me a sandwich.”
The tiniest hint of a smile.
“I’ll stay the night, but you can shove that sandwich up your ass.”
“That’s the spirit.”
CHAPTER 52 – ANTONIO
We walk to the car in silence. That’s okay. I’m too tired to talk anyway.
