Page 63 of Interpreter

She nods, a little smug with her negotiating skills. I know she won’t abide by our agreement. I doubt she really understands why I’ve asked her not to speak. I bet she thinks it’s some kind of kinky game where I play alpha, but it isn’t. My reasoning is much darker.

I haven’t had sex since I lost my hearing. I don’t know what I sound like when I come or when I’m talking dirty. I don’t plan to ask her many questions, and so she shouldn’t need to say much. Less is more tonight. The only sounds she should be making is that of pleasure.

My steps falter just thinking of the possibility of how I might sound, and Milah catches it, eyeing me warily, that crease between her brows prominent. “Are you going to drop me? Because that will totally disappoint me. Your arms—” She shakes her head and frowns. “—look like they could bench press a boat. If you drop me, it’ll kill my fantasy and quite possibly scar me for life. I’m notthatheavy.”

I shake my head. She is fucking exasperating. “I’m not going to drop you. I could squat three of you and still not break a sweat.”

“Someone’s confident.”

“Someone isn’t following directions. What did I tell you? I only want to hear—”

“Yes, Papi,” she cuts me off with a grin. “Just wait until I tell Felipe. He’s been dying to call Marcus Papi, but he won’t let him. He’s going to be so jealous.”

Have mercy. Why am I smiling at this ridiculousness?

I refocus her with, “Directions. Now,” and she nods quickly, still not smothering the confident grin on her face. Has she been waiting for this moment as long as I have?

Hands tug at my shirt, and I pause. “What are you doing?”

She doesn’t stop, pulling my shirt up and through our bodies. “You said to show you with my hands. You didn’t say where my hands had to be.”

And… I’m seconds from fucking her on the stairs.

This she knows as she nestles her hands on my chest, drawing fucking arrows to signal my next turn. She’s going to need restraining at some point, I can feel it. This woman follows directions as good as Aspen eats with a fork.

Her hands have stopped drawing and end with a soft pinch to my nipple that has me thinking I should have jerked off in the shower before I came. The need to own her, to shut her up with a thrust so deep… yeah, I definitely should have jerked off earlier.

“This is me,” she mouths, and for the first time, I realize we are in a loft with exposed brick and a kitchen that looks as if it’s never been used.

Fuck. I was so focused on her touching me that I didn’t realize we were already through the front door.

“You share this with Felipe?” Why did I expect something a little edgier?

She nods. “Did you think we would have a stripper pole in the center of the living room?”

I laugh. “No, I expected a workout room with mirrors and a pole in the center ofthatroom. I have to say, I’m a little disappointed.”

Breaking eye contact, Milah throws her head back, her laughter causing her whole body to shake in my hands. I hold onto her tighter until she stops and levels an amused gaze at me. “Felipe wanted one, but when I moved in, it sort of killed that dream. I guess when I move out, he can revisit the idea.”

“Are you moving out?” This is news. I figured, if she was house hunting, she would have said something at least. We’ve been sharing small details and getting to know one another lately.

“Oh.” She looks away for a moment, and as if she remembers I can’t see her lips, she turns her head back slowly. “I just mean eventually. I can’t live with Felipe forever. He and Marcus will eventually want their privacy. That’s all.”

Right. Or one day she’ll find a guy who can’t wait to move her into a house and fill her with babies. She won’t live with Felipe forever.

Both of us stand at her bedroom door frowning and totally killing the fucking vibe we had earlier.

“Hey,” she says, holding my jaw with her fingers. “Let’s not think tonight, okay?”

Right. Let’s finish making bad decisions.

“Okay, Papi?” she urges.

At that stupid moniker, I grin and nod and twist the handle to her bedroom door. “Remember,” I warn, “no talking.”

Like an eager student, she nods excitedly. “Got it. No talking.”

No way is she going to keep her mouth shut. I think it’s physically impossible. Either way, I deal with it by entering her bedroom and tossing her onto the perfectly made bed. I guess she’s just as organized at home as she is in her classroom. “You have two seconds to move anything you don’t want damaged out of the way,” I warn.

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