Page 50 of Carved in Ruin

“Good girl.”

Standing behind her now, I grip the zipper, my fingers brushing her back. The moment I touch her, she stiffens, her breath catching just slightly. I pull the zipper down, deliberately slow. My thumb grazes her skin as I work.

The room feels charged, every second dragging like a slow-burn fuse. Her scent wraps around me, sweet and infuriating.

Just as the zipper reaches the small of her back, my fingers mere inches from the curve of her ass, she steps forward abruptly, clutching the front of her dress to her chest.

She strides to the bathroom. At the door, she pauses, turning to throw me one last look, finger pointed toward the couch. “For your information, I’ll be sleeping there.”

I grin. “We’ll see.”

She slams the door behind her.

I barely have time to blink before the door flies open again. “And I’m not sleeping with you either!”

Before I can respond, she slams it shut again.

“We’ll see about that too,” I mutter to myself.

This fight between us is far from over.

Twenty Three

Stick Figures

Five year old Mila tiptoed into Rafael’s room, her little hands clutching a mismatched pile of crayons. “I got the purple one this time,” she whispered proudly, holding it up like a treasure.

“Purple’s for girls,” Rafael grumbled, stretching out on the floor beside her.

Mila puffed out her cheeks in protest. “No, it’s not.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. But I get a sword.”

She immediately started sketching a wobbly stick figure of him with a lopsided crown on the white wall. “See? You’re the king. And I’m the queen!” she said, giggling as she drew a tiny stick figure with a big, crooked smile next to his.

“You can’t be queen,” Rafael objected, raising a brow like he’d seen grown-ups do. “You’re too small.”

Mila gasped, offended. “Am not! I’ll grow taller than you, you’ll see!”

“Never gonna happen.” He leaned closer, tapping the crayon in her hand. “Also, queens don’t have messy hair like that.”

She stuck out her tongue. “ Well, my hair is messy because I fight dragons.”

“What about me? Do I fight dragons too?”

Mila shook her head fiercely. “Nope. You fight bad guys. I fight dragons.”

“That’s not fair.” He poked her side, making her squirm and giggle. “Why do you get dragons?”

“’Cause I’m brave,” she declared proudly, adding a giant scribbled dragon next to their stick figures.

Rafael snorted.

“Come on, finish your sword. It’s gotta be purple too.” Mila whined.

“Purple swords are for girls,” he grumbled, but he took the crayon anyway. Because he would do anything for Mila. Even if it meant wielding a silly purple sword.

Twenty Four

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