“Did you fall for someone else?”
He seemed to nod, shake his head, and shrug all at the same time. As much as she wanted to pry, it was no longer her place.
She tapped his stomach. “And the moral of the story, Aesop?”
“I see you’re going to need a time-out,” he teased. “But the moral of the story is that I’m going to try to do for you what she did for me.”
“You mean, make me fall for you?”
“I mean, take away the pain. If you fall, you fall. I can have two girlfriends.”
She smacked him again.
“We’re going to work on the violence as well,” he said.
“My hits don’t hurt.”
“No, but they do something else. Something that might make me hurt you later.”
Surprisingly, her body responded.
It wasn’t pulsing, quivering, or the slick heat of desire, but she felt a spark of something that had a tenuous grip on the edge of passion.
“Adrían, I’m flattered,” she prefaced, “but I’m not in a place to be receptive to love. I don’t know that I’ll ever again be in a place to be receptive to love.”
He extended a hand. “Whoa, love? Slow down. We’ve only just met.”
She went to smack him a third time, but he grabbed her hand and slid their fingers together. Memories of his touch sent yet another jolt to her heart, but the magic disappeared before she could savor it.
Just like that, she was dead again.
“Adrían, that girl you knew back in Morocco? The one you say you loved? She’s dead.”
He cleared his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Is that right?”
“They killed her, murdered her.”
“And who’s they? Chamas?”
“I wish it was just Chamas.”
“Honestly, I don’t want who I knew,” he clarified. “I want who she is. I want who you are.”
“Even now?”
“Especially now.” He tugged until her feet finally started to move. “Come, let’s go warm up the bed for when Wren gets here. I’ll grab your bag later.”
“For when Wren gets here?”
“So her spot’s not cold…because we sleep naked. I didn’t mention that?”
She yanked. “Unhand me at once.”
He pulled. “I shalln’t.”
“Your grammar is horrendous.”
“I’m handsome. I don’t have to be smart.”