“Okay then.”
Closing the gap between us again, his mouth and hands are back on me. Stroking, brushing. Fixing, repairing. Rubbing my breast with a gentle touch of knuckles over my nipple. Kneading his way down to massage my thigh and softly rubbing my ass cheek. Correcting all the places Everest was rough with me, rewriting the memory with a new one. Feeling at a disadvantage, I tug his t-shirt upwards, bearing his torso to me.
“Thiago,” I breathe against his lips, yearning for something I can’t name. Where everything with Everest had been heat and pressure and urgency, Thiago is careful and considerate. His fingers trace along my body, mapping me by touch alone. An ache settles in my chest before I understand it. The way he understands me, how he trulyseesall of me. My throat tightens as his hand settles at my waist, thumb brushing absent patterns.
“What do you want, Amorzinha?” Thi asks, his blue eyes seeing through mine as if he has a direct link to my soul.
“You,” I answer immediately. A small smile draws up his lips, as he guides us back towards my bed.
“You have all of me.” The truth of his words hit me all at once, along with the knowledge that I haven’t done anything to earn him. I reach for the hem of his t-shirt anyway, tugging it upwards. His arms lift without question as I pull the fabric over his head and toss it aside. My fingers press lightly against his skin, tracing over him like I’m the careful one now, like I need to memorize this moment before it slips away. Thi watches me the whole time, his features soft and open, allowing me to explore at my leisure.
“You’re too good to me,” I murmur quietly. It’s not a compliment. It’s a confession.
“I’m exactly what you deserve, and vice versa. Você é meu coração.” I don’t know what that means, and although I disagree, I allow Thiago to pull me down alongside him. Maybe it’s because I’ve already been reckless with my body. Maybe it’s because there’s a void inside that is also begging to be filled. Or maybe it’s because Thiago always knows how to save me. In every instance, he is right there, ready to smooth away the ache without a trace of judgement.
The world beyond this room disappears. There’s no urgency, no need to prove anything to anyone. Simply the quiet exchange of hands that linger and lips that find each other time and again. Thi’s touch worships me, fingertips brushing along my skin with a tenderness that I never want to end. I mirror him, tracing the lines of his shoulders, the warmth of his chest beneath my palms, studying the way he breathes.
Every kiss is just as slow as the last, as if we’re building something that’s never been created before. It hasn’t, not for me and I’m certain not for Thiago either. A foundation that relies entirely on trust and quiet understanding. I let myself sink into it fully, consumed by him until I feel the stirring in my core. I need to deepen our connection, to tie us even closer together. Shifting, I tug down Thi’s sweats and raise a brow at his hardness.
“I didn’t know if going slow would do it for you,” I mask my surprise, freeing his legs of the material. As soon as I rise back up the bed, Thi sits up and draws my lip down with his thumb.
“You do it for me,” he replies huskily. His blue eyes are blown with desire and heat, the truth of his words written all over his face. “If you haven’t noticed, everything about you drives me insane. I’m always painfully hard when you’re around, always yearning for you to look at me, to be with me, to touch me.” I inhale as glassiness coats my vision. If Thiago wasn’t holding my bottom lip, it would wobble. Seeming to sense this, he smiles as he releases me.
“I know you think I don’t get anything out of this relationship, but trust me Amorzinha, I get everything I could ever need and want. Você é meu coração,” he repeats, putting an open palm over my left breast. “You are my heart.”
His hand rests warmly over my heart, his thumb brushing absent-minded circles against my skin. The hitch in my breath betrays the way my chest is clenching just beneath the surface, my mind yelling at me not to cry. Do not cry whilst naked with this beautiful man in my bed. Battling against my own will, my fingers only shake slightly as I trail them lazily up his arm, following the lines of muscle there. We remained there, tangled together in our own bubble of intimacy.
“You never asked me, you know?” I tilt my head, gently pushing Thi’s shoulders down until he’s lying flat. Lifting a leg over his hips, I straddle him as he watches with open attentiveness. “To be your girlfriend. You didn’t officially ask.” Thiago’s eyes glint, his head nodding without hesitation.
“You’re right. I’ve never been great at boundaries, or doing things the right way.” I huff out a quiet laugh, my hand drifting over his abs to trace idle patterns.
“So…are you going to ask me now?” I pretend to be coy. There’s nothing shy about sitting naked on a solid cock that’sbrushing against the roughness another has left behind, but we’re not thinking about Everest right now. This moment is all about Thiago, who studies me for a second, then shakes his head.
“Not yet. I should do it properly.” This earns him a huge, genuine smile. Warmth of another kind radiates through me, pulsing like a lifeline that has awakened the darkest parts of my soul.
“Okay, Thiago.” Done with words, I reach between us to wrap my hand around his solid shaft. Thi bucks into my touch, his tongue slipping out to lick his lips. Neither of us rushes, our quiet breathing filling the room with meaningful seclusion. I’m still slick with the evidence of what someone else started, but I don’t shy away from lifting my hips high into the air. Lining him up with my entrance, I pause long enough to note how Thi’s eyes are hooded, his jaw somewhat strained.
This man loves me. He truly loves me. I smile, my heart fit to explode in my chest. As I sink down onto my second cock of the day, all I can think is, my mother would have a therapist’s field day with this.
Chapter Forty Nine
Should I have told Meg about Laura? Absolutely. In the court of moral correctness, I’m guilty. A terrible soon-to-be-official boyfriend and continuously questionable human being. Hot, though, so perhaps the jury will take that into consideration.
So the question is, why didn’t I tell her? And in response, I turn to the judge sitting in my head with a gavel hanging lazily in his hand and reply, because I’m not an idiot. I know something happened at Harrison’s hideout. I know it in the way Meg flinches at certain noises, in the way her eyes sometimes glass over mid-sentence, in the way she’s fighting to act normal when she doesn’t even know what her own version of normal is.
So how am I supposed to roll over in her bed, kiss her sweet little forehead, and say,By the way, Amorzinha, Laura is living her best life with a pool and a little dog, while the guy living right next door is plotting to get rid of you?Easy. I’m not gonna.
Instead, I click clickety click through four open windows, three hidden tabs, two property registers and a partridge in a pear tree. I’m joking on that last one, obviously, but props if you sang it.
Chuckling under my breath, I sink into Meg’s chair as I flag Laura’s new residence to the local police department for suspicious activity, anonymously supplying them with her bank transactions from a very generous donor who has only referenced to themselves as CC. I’m yet to find which corporation those initials correspond to, but I will. In fact, I’m rather enjoying the challenge that this cross-referencing has gifted me. I’m not used to someone covering their tracks so well.
Pushing away from the desk, I rest the back of my head in my hands and stare at the ceiling. Well, that’s one thing ticked off my to-do list. Behind me, Meg stirs in her bed, the sheets cascading over her bare legs as she shifts. Her hair is a mess on the pillow, one cheek creased from sleep, and her lips parted as a thin line of drool escapes. She’s so fucking beautiful.
Blinking herself awake in the low glow of the desk lamp, Meg looks at me like I’m up to no good, which to be fair, I usually am.
“What are you doing?” She asks, her voice is rough with sleep. I spin fully in the chair, propping my crossed feet onto her mattress.
“Being your hero, Amorzinha, as always.” There’s a soft groan in response as Meg wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
