Page 33 of Raziel
He studied me for a beat, then dropped his voice. “I like you, Raziel.”
I paused.
“But if my wife’s sister gets hurt—”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I cut him off.
He moved closer, the weight of his threat pressing between us. “You don’t have to say it. Just hear me.”
I didn’t answer. There was nothing to discuss.
Whatever was between me and Maya would burn out sooner or later. I hoped.
But then, realistically... Maya wasn’t built for moderation.
I walked out.
I pulled up to her place less than an hour later with the cake box in the passenger seat and my jaw clenched tight.
I indulged her too much.
It was the third time I’d come by her place after being beckoned—since the bike.
She opened the door before I could knock.
“Oh my God,” she grinned, then jumped straight into my arms.
I caught her easily, cake box pressed between us, her legs wrapping around my waist.
“You got it!”
She kissed my cheek, then my jaw, then down the side of my neck.
I exhaled hard, gripping her thighs, trying not to react—but my dick twitched anyway.
Her energy made me feel reckless. Unbalanced. Like I wasn’t in control of anything—not my body, not my breath, not the thoughts running wild in my head.
“Relax,” I muttered, but my voice came out rougher than I meant.
I carried her and the damn cake inside, dropped both onto the couch like I was setting down something hot.
She slid off me, barefoot, smiling like she knew what she was doing.
“You’re so nice to me, Ra.”
“Mm-hmm,” I muttered.
She popped the box open, picked up the cupcake-sized personal cake, and took a huge bite, eyes fluttering shut.
“Why you eat so many sweets?” I asked.
Her cabinets were filled with all types of cookies and candies.
I watched her. She looked like something dangerous and edible at the same time.
She licked frosting off her finger, slowly. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.
“Because it keeps me from doing drugs,” she said. Then her voice dropped, real quiet, real flat.
