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His lips quirk up when he realizes it’s just me. “Queeny.” He crooks his finger, calling me to him.
I bend over his prone form.
“Closer.” His voice is thick and rough.
I oblige, lowering until my lips brush his. “Yes, Manny?”
His chestnut orbs heat and swirl with a vortex of desire and urgency. “I love you.” It’s a gravely whisper that wraps around my body and binds me to him.
I grin on an elated laugh, and liquid leaks from my eyes.
“I didn’t realize me professing my love for you would be so upsetting.” He smirks.
“I’m just so happy you’re awake to tell me.” I wipe my cheeks and kiss his lips. “I love you too.”
Serenity replaces the intensity of his gaze, but I can see a glint of mischief in the gold flecks of his irises. “Now, about that nip slip I was promised…”
Chapter 28
Redemption and Revenge
Mae
A man’s basic needs are food, sleep, and sex. Remi, who just woke up from a coma after getting hit by a car, is no exception. His head is wrapped along with the side of his face. There’s a black bruise on his angular chin, his arm is elevated in a cast, and yet he’s eye-fucking me from the bed.
I giggle at his request, thinking it’s a joke, but the heat of his stare tells me he is dead-serious. “C’mon, Queeny, what’s a man got to do?”
Standing, I plop my fist on my cocked hip. “Are you seriously using your injury to manipulate me into taking off my shirt?” I ask with an incredulous laugh.
He shrugs. “Man’s gotta eat.”
I drop my head back in laughter, remembering the first time he said that looking irresistible with his finger pointing to his cheek. Why does he have to be so damn adorkable?
With an eyebrow raised, I slide my hands down my torso and play with the hem of my t-shirt. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I say, mostly to myself.
Remi just lays there with a dopey smile, like a juvenile about to see his first set of tits.
Swiveling my hips, I do a little dance. “If Vicky walks in, this is going to scar her for life.”
He chuckles. “Makes it more exciting.” He wags his eyebrows.
My lips purse in mock indignation. “You’re incorrigible.”
“I am what I am,” he quips.
I love who he is, so I wouldn’t change it for the world. If he wants to see some boobage, I’m going to give it to him.
Slowly, I reveal the skin of my belly inch by inch, all the while keeping an ear on his heart monitor. While I don’t mind having a little fun—after all, he deserves it—I don’t want it to jeopardize his health. But right now, all is well, so I continue my sensual moves.
When my top clears my head and my hair swishes through the collar, the heat in Remi’s gaze turns blazing. A starving man, he licks his lips. I toss my shirt on the chair and strut toward him, with only one thought in my mind: he’s awake, he’s perfect, and he wants me.
His face hardens to stone and his burning stare is doused in cold water. “What the fuck is on your arm?” His heart rate starts climbing, along with mine.
This was a mistake. I forgot all about the blue watercolor Mr. Fairchild imprinted on my skin.
I rush to his side. “Remi, listen. It’s nothing. I handled it. It’s fine.” My words jump like a dinghy in choppy water.
Steam flows out of his flared nose. “If you don’t tell me who gave you those marks, I will get out of this bed and tear this place apart until I find out.” The beeping becomes more frantic, like my panic.
