Page 31 of Don't Trust Him

Who knew eyebrows could be gorgeous? I mean, I’m a man, right, so I don’t notice things like that.

Except it is impossible not to notice every little thing about Eliza. She fucking enraptures me, takes my thoughts hostage and holds them up without asking for ransom.

“What?” Her eyes narrow into slits but there’s the unmistakable upturn of a grin appearing at the corner of those suckable, fuckable lips. I want to grab her by the hair, kiss her, and lick down her jawline and her neck until she moans in my ear. I want to feel her squeeze tight and grasp me.

So yeah I’m not exactly eager to go our separate ways. I want to delay the inevitable.

My eyes must be pleading with her, and in this moment I’ll be any amount of desperate it takes to have more time with her. I can’t be without her…it seems fucking surreal to imagine that the woman who was my greatest enemy is the person I can’t stand the thought of being without. That I can’t, literally cannot, think about the future without seeing her in it.

“Just a drink, doll,” I say, reaching out for her hand.

Eliza takes my hand tentatively and I twirl her. She complies, laughing slowly at the sensation of turning around after we have a successful batch of cocaine prepared.

“We should celebrate. Just one night. What’s one night?” I ask, trying to keep the heaviness out of my voice.

Because for me, that one night?

It’s fucking everything.

From the fucking start, just looking at Eliza Lang, I was in goddamn trouble. I didn’t want to kill her. I didn’t think of her as the enemy. She’s made me into some kind of fucking bitch, whimpering internally at wanting to be with her.

I’ll tell you the truth. I told you that I’d always do that. She makes me feel...

Fuck, I can hardly say it.

It’s ridiculous.

When I tell you, you’ll see it’s ridiculous.

But she makes me feel safe. She makes me feel like I actually belong.

Eliza makes me feel like my whole world should be about protecting her, and loving her, and being like adventurous and shit. Eliza actually makes me consider that life can be fun. Life can be good.

So, yeah, one night is everything. Because that’s likely all Eliza is ever going to give me. If even that.

I look at her and I see that thoughts are warring in her mind, too.

I wish I could hear Eliza’s thoughts. But I wonder if I would regret that. After all, if Eliza thinks I’m a monster like everyone else, I couldn’t be surprised. If Eliza thinks of me that way...it shouldn’t hurt. I am a monster. Of course she can see that. But am I fool for thinking she sees something else? I don’t even know if there’s anything else to see.

But fuck, the beautiful thing about loving her is that it gives me hope. Hope that she could see me as something else. That I could be something else, something more. I want so much more than one night can ever give me, but if she’d have a drink with me, let down her hair, and just relax with me, it would be like I was watching what a real life behind a glass would be. Like an exhibition in a museum, playing for a day.

It isn’t that I don’t want the cartel life. In fact, I could never leave. I would be miserable without my life of crime sense.

But with Eliza there’s layers to life.

A fuller life. And fuck if I don’t want that shit. I really do.

“One night?” I ask Eliza simply. I’m doing the best to keep my voice from betraying what a little pussy I’m being, pining for her.

But if she says no I might have to fucking beg.

There’s something in her eyes, and she looks off in the distance again. I want to ask her, what are you thinking when you look out like that? But talk about personal.

And hey if we start drinking, maybe we can get personal.

“Let’s do it,” Eliza says slowly. “We’re two sorta co-workers and we’ve just had this big project success. We should celebrate,” Eliza says with a big, wide, beautiful grin on her perfect face. I want to hold it. I want to kiss those lips.

And though calling us co-workers when I want to fuck her brains out should cut my balls off, it actually makes me want to smile, too. It’s some moment of normal, it’s some concession of togetherness...I don’t even fucking know.

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