I sniff the heavy air of sex. “Hmm, I will probably get hard every time I’m in this car from now on.”
She grins, looking quite content with herself. “Thank you.”
“Whatever you need, you just have to ask me,” I say, my voice coated in belief.
Even if she ends up hating me, rejecting me, she’s mine. And I will always take care of her.
I hold her until she’s the one to move first, glancing down at our thighs. We made a mess, one that inflates my chest with immense pride. Bending over to open the glove compartment, I pluck out some tissues to clean her up and then myself before we set our clothes to rights.
She hums softly, appearing more grounded as I drive toward our beach house.
I am going to give it to her as a wedding present.
I can’t demand the truth when I am thinking of how to make the best of the time left until the house of cards I’ve constructed will crash on my damn head.
Once we reach it, her eyes take everything in as if wanting to memorize every corner, every object.
It takes everything in me not to tell her she doesn’t need to.
Inside the living room, she goes to the cabinet, returning with a bottle of scotch and two glasses.
“Was it that bad at home?” I ask, attempting to coax the truth.
She shrugs, pours two tumblers, and places the glasses on the coffee table. “I loved spending time with my sister and my niece. You would like Chiara, she’s a force.”
I’ve heard the word challenge would be more suitable, but I guess Cato likes that.
“How could I not like her, when she has this amazing sister I am crazy about? She can’t be bad.”
“Not her.” Her smile threatens to slip. Avoiding my gaze, her face dips. “I’m the liar. I am living a lie.”
In one step, I cut the distance between us and grip her chin, tilting her face up to look deep into her eyes. “Don’t talk badly about the woman I love. Clear?”
Her chin quivers, vulnerability thick in her voice. “I don’t know what you see in me.”
“Perfection. Heart. Colors. Beauty—inside and out. Future. My universe.”
Her eyes well up, one tear sliding down her cheek, and I brush it away.
“You always know what to say, what to do. It makes me feel…”
“Like what?” I urge, hungry for more confessions.
“Like I was made for you.”
Maybe she was. It couldn’t be for good deeds, but maybe to compensate for my shitty upbringing. Monsters are never born. The world creates them. Maybe she’s the gift for that little boy who lost his innocence too soon, the teenager who forsook his soul.
“A waste of goodness on a monster like me,” I say contemplatively.
She wraps her arms around me, resting her face in the crook of my arm. “Stop calling my man a monster. I forbid you.”
“You forbid me?” I chuckle, feeling damn elated at her claiming me.
She lifts onto her toes and palms my face. “Yes.”
“I’m your man, but I want you to be aware of who you have fallen for.”
“As if you’d ever let me go. Unloving you would be impossible. It’s too late. You have me.”
