It’s…deeper now.
That somewhere between the off-colored age jokes, the post dinner strip poker rounds, and dream vacation pillow talks, things got…outof temporary and are now seeking a longer possibility.
Movement out of the corner of my eye causes me to cut my focus back to the door Marshall-Green is re-entering through.Upon his complete return outside, I cautiously investigate, “Do we have a deal, Mr.Marshall-Green?”
“Verbal now,” he professionally announces before letting the faintest hint of mirth be seen.“Paperwork when we’re out of balls.”
Chapter 16
Salay
I love a man who can cook.
I meanactuallycook.
That’s like recreational diving sexy.
Microwaving a premade meal?
He might as well be wearing floaties in the bathtub.
MakingCamarones a la Diablafrom scratch?
That’s basically the equivalence of having him flashing his certified diver credentials at me.
Shirtless.
Add in the fact he’s making one of my favorite Mexican seafood dishes I haven’t had since I high finned it away from home years ago and he takes all that shit one step further past shirtless to being shirtless next to his own yacht.
And the whole “I’d give up my tail and mer kingdom for you” cherry on top?
When said man, is specifically cooking itforyou.
Not because he was in the mood, but hey, here’s some for you too.
Not because he was hungry, but didn’t wanna eat alone.
But because hethoughtofyou.
Because herememberedsomething intimate about you.
Something you’ve never mentioned to anyone else.
Part of youyou’ve never let anyone else know.
Won’t stick aroundtolet anyone else know.
Victor Garcia reminds me of deep-water diving.
High risk for a potentially high reward.
And just like when you go deep-water diving…you are not always guaranteed to get said reward.
Or even a glimpse at it.
You have to be willing to gamble.
And that’s totallyfinewhen it comes to life.
