Page 27 of Pucks and Likes

Our eyes meet once more, and I let out a slow sigh before I take a bite of the insanely good mushroom risotto. After I’ve taken three bites, I find that Alex is watching with a satisfied grin on his face.

“Feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“And how is it?”

“So good.”

He nods, pleased with that, before we go back to eating. “So, have you been seeing anyone?”

I look up at him through my lashes. “Not that it matters, but no.”

“Didn’t want anyone but me?” I glance up to find him beaming at me, those caramel eyes flashing with playfulness.

Yes.

“Not at all. Just busy.”

Growing your child.

“Little liar,” he mutters, and I set him with a look.

“Delusional boy,” I throw back, and he looks almost feral.

“I love when you speak to me in my language. Gets me all hard,” he tells me quickly, his eyes heated.

“Good to know. It’s how I’ll bring you to your knees,” I say, my Spanish perfect from years of learning and speaking it. When we were younger, Louisa wanted all of us to be fluent in different languages. It wasn’t until I was almost sixteen that I learned it was because she was planning on getting us out of the country and away from the cult. Thankfully, Peepaw was able to take us in, and the rest is history. But for moments like this, I’m glad I’m multilingual.

Alex’s eyes burn for me as he tells me in English, “Oh mami, I’ll stay there if that’s what you want.”

Fucking hell, his words get me every time. Especially when he looks at me like he wants to devour me whole. This was a mistake. I can’t flirt with him.

But I love doing it.

Ugh.

He leans forward then, his eyes capturing mine. “Tell me something.”

“No, I won’t sleep with you.”

“Tonight,” he clarifies, and I give him a dry look that he ignores. “What happened to your stomach?”

My whole body freezes, and my heart goes still in my chest as I hold his gaze. “Sorry?”

“You’re wearing all these big clothes, your stomach is hard, and when you hugged me, you only let your chest touch me so I wouldn’t feel it. What’s going on?”

I bite into my cheek. “You noticed the hug thing?”

“Yeah,” he says softly. “When we hugged before, you’d press your whole body to mine. Flush. So I could feel every inch of your delectable body, and havoc would ensue.”

My mouth goes dry, and I suddenly feel like forming words will be too hard.

“Are you sick? Cancer?”

I shake my head, licking my lips. “I told you no.”

“Hernia?”

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