Page 165 of Vicious Temptation

“I’ll try.”

His eyes drift closed. I tug the blanket higher over his shoulders and brush his curls away from his forehead. Despite the medicine and shower, his skin is still too warm.

“Get some sleep.”

His fingers tighten weakly around mine. “Stay.”

The request catches me off guard, and my chest clenches.

“I’ll stay for a little while.”

The tension slowly leaves his body. “Good.”

Within minutes, his breathing deepens. I sit there long after he’s fallen asleep, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing while absentmindedly twirling the lollipop stick between my fingers.

The television keeps playing, and the city keeps moving outside the windows, but as always when I’m with him, I barely notice.

When exhaustion finally catches up with me, I pull a throw blanket over myself, curl up on the opposite end of the couch, and close my eyes.

Forty-One

thiago

Ihaven’t woken up to a foot in my ribs since I was ten years old, when I had sleepovers in Rio with my cousins.

Rolling onto my back, I feel the offending foot flop onto my stomach so hard it forces a grunt from my chest. I lie there for a moment, taking stock of how I feel. My head is still heavy, but the fever-induced haze that has consumed me for days is finally lifting.

Then I remember that Remi stayed.

My eyes snap open. Morning sunlight spills through the gaps in the blinds, casting pale streaks across the living room. It takes me a second to spot her sprawled at the opposite end of the couch beneath a throw blanket.

One leg hangs over the cushions while the other is draped across my stomach, as if she owns the place. As if she owns me.

I can’t help smiling.

I stare at her longer than I should, tracing every contour of her face and committing every detail to memory. Without the jokes, sarcasm, and distractions she uses to keep people at arm’s length, the armor she wears so effortlessly when she’s awake is nowhere to be found.

Maybe some part of her has always known that getting too close to me is a mistake. But she stayed and took care of me even after our argument, even though she didn’t have to.

Against my better judgment, I let my mind wander again, imagining a different reality where I get to watch Remi fall asleep every night and wake up beside her every morning. I picture pulling her into my arms after hours of making her mine, her hair spread across my pillow and her sleepy complaints as I wake her too early.

The longer I let myself imagine it, the harder it becomes to ignore how badly I want it to be real.

“Are you just going to sit there and stare, or are you going to offer me breakfast?” She stretches beneath the blanket and slowly opens her eyes. “How are you feeling?” she asks.

When the teasing fades, there’s a tenderness to her voice I’ve never heard her use with me before.

“Better. Not great, but definitely better.”

Her entire face brightens as she sits up and reaches for my forehead. “Still warm.”

I gently take her hand in mine and press a kiss on her palm. “That awful canned soup must have done the trick since we both know it wasn’t the morale lollipop you stole.”

Remi laughs. “Probably not.” She slips her hand from mine and rises from the couch. “Do you have an extra toothbrush, Braga?”

“It’s in the cabinet beneath the sink.”

An hour later, we’re finishing scrambled eggs and toast at my kitchen island.