Instead of answering, I drag her closer by the hips and kiss her hard.
Her breath catches against my mouth, fingers landing on my shoulders to steady herself as I kiss her like I’ve been sitting here watching her all night and I’m done pretending that doesn’t do something soft to me. Her lips part. I take what I want. Slow enough to feel, rough enough to remind.
When I finally pull back, her eyes are bright and annoyed in that way that usually means she liked it.
I smack her ass once, firm enough to make her jolt.
She glares down at me. “You’re annoying.”
“Go get my empanadas.”
Her mouth drops open a little. “Yourempanadas?”
I lean back in the chair, completely unbothered. “Whatever you get, get me some.”
She stares at me for one long beat, then mutters, “I should poison you.”
“But you won’t.”
“No,” she says, already turning away. “I won’t.”
She takes three steps before I call after her, “More than two.”
Without looking back, she lifts one hand and flips me off over her shoulder.
I grin into my drink.
Yeah.
I love her.
***
By the time we get to the car, the night has thinned into something quieter.
The estate is behind us now, swallowed by distance and dark, and the city opens ahead in streaks of gold and glass.
Ayla is already halfway into an empanada by the time I pull away from the curb.
I glance at the paper napkin in her hand, then at her.
“That’s not mine, right?”
She keeps chewing, eyes on the window. “They’re all mine.”
I scoff. “I told you to get me some.”
“Well,” she says, licking a bit of flaky crust from her thumb. “I didn’t hear that.”
“Liar.”
She shrugs.
I shake my head and glance over again. “So you brought me nothing.”
“I brought myself joy. You’re welcome to admire it from a distance.”
A laugh almost leaves me before I kill it.
