She said it like I was some kind of man worth respecting.
I didn't feel like a hero.
I felt tired.
Back then and now.
But part of me wanted to beat my chest like a goddamn animal because she thought I was one.
"You don't know what you're praising, sweetheart."
I remembered the mess I'd made.
The rage I felt.
The fucking loss.
I'd burned every bridge I had.
I'd left my parents behind.
My company.
Bodies in my wake.
I thought I'd gotten my vengeance, but all it really did was turn me into something I didn't even recognize.
I stepped back, giving her room to breathe.
I dragged a rough palm down my face, scraping over my stubble.
"I need a nap," I muttered.
I hadn't slept more than a few hours in days.
Between Lady of Rage breathing down my neck and Jamie being a ticking bomb in my house, I was stretched thin.
Jamie ran her hand across her neck.
"You trust me, papi, enough to sleep? I call this progress."
That wasn't the response I'd been expecting.
I shot her a dry look, reaching out and grabbing her wrist tightly.
"Cut that papi shit out," I warned, my voice low. "I'm not moved by it. I know exactly what you're doing."
Before I could pull back, she grabbed my hand and kissed my knuckles.
Her lips were so soft.
Precum leaked from my already hard dick.
She was trying to kill me.
"Sorry. I'm trying to make a bad situation tolerable," she whispered, her lips brushing my skin before she let go. "Go to bed. I'm going to put away the leftover food, then sleep too."
I didn't argue.
