Page 42
“I ordered Mexican.” I say.
The tension melts from her shoulders almost instantly. Just as quickly, and the smile returns.
Another mask.
Who hurt you, Elara?
“Tacos!” she gasps, hurrying to answer the door.
Watching her open the door to my home sends an unexpected warmth through my chest. It’s such an ordinary, domestic sight.
Fuck. I don’t want her to leave.
“Make yourself at home.” I mutter under my breath as she breezes past me with the food.
One moment she’s unpacking the bags, the next she’s curled up on my couch, legs crossed beneath her, taking an unapologetically large bite of a taco.
God, she’s beautiful.
Even with her cheeks stuffed full of food, she’s beautiful. She’s eating like she hasn’t seen a proper meal in days, barely chewing before shoving another bite into her mouth.
“Elara.”
She looks up at me, another overloaded taco halfway to her lips.
“Slow down.” I say, gently taking it from her hand. “You’ll choke.”
To my surprise, she listens without arguing. “When was the last time you ate?”
She freezes for the smallest fraction of a second before forcing another bite into her mouth and that’s answer enough.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I grab a glass of water for her and vodka for myself, taking the empty spot beside her.
Her sweet scent hits me at once and I take a long sip, swallowing down the groan threatening to escape.
We sit in comfortable silence. My eyes fixed on her as I watch her chew. Catching me staring, she holds out her taco, offering me the side she’d already taken a bite from.
“Want some?” she asks around another mouthful.
I almost refuse but then I notice where her lips had been so, I lean forward and bite into the exact place her lips had just touched, holding her gaze the entire time.
Her emerald eyes widen ever so slightly before drifting to my mouth, a faint flush creeping into her cheeks.
Yes, look at me with heat in your eyes, malyshka. My restraint was meant to be tested.
I don’t know when she dropped her guard around me, but it makes me smile internally that she did. As we’ve established, I can kill a man easily, yet I’m harmless when it comes to her.
My hand brushes her leg as I lean over to grab the remote. Flicking on the television, I ask. “What do you wanna watch?”
She shrugs taking another large bite and I shake my head, feeling something so possessive bubbling in my chest. I want to hide her from this world.
I open Netflix, scrolling endlessly when her hand lands on my lap.
“Play this.” She mutters slowly. My entire attention on her hand, her skin so smooth I want to lick it.
Her hand is still tinted red and it makes me fucking livid. I force another deep breath to calm the rage churning within me. I wish I had tortured the motherfucker longer.
