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“Shame.” I shook my arms, cranked my neck, and feigned nonchalance. “If you isolate yourself, you’ll be missing out on all the good parts.”
“Impossible.” He scooped my jawline in his palm. “The best part is right in front of me.”
Then he dipped his head down and kissed me.
ROW
McMonster: Can I tell you something?
oBITCHuary: Yes.
McMonster: You remind me of those paintings of anatomical hearts with flowers bursting out of the arteries and veins.
oBITCHuary: I think that’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me. How sad is that?
McMonster: Not sad at all.
McMonster: To me it sounds like a happy beginning.
ROW
I hated running.
Or any other type of cardio that didn’t involve Cal’s legs wrapped around my waist, to be honest. I didn’t need a workout. I worked a physical job, hurling a shit ton of food crates from one place to the other, chopping, slicing, tossing, flipping, glazing, grating, all in a kitchen of about thirty thousand degrees.
I needed this morning run with Cal like I needed a second tailbone.
Only reason I did it was so I could have an excuse to spend one-on-one time with her. My patience and virtue had paid off, because this morning, I’d had my dick inside her mouth and my pinky up her ass. Blood rushed to my dick just thinking about the things I was going to do to this woman. I was going to live inside that pussy every waking moment until I had to pay fucking rent.
Too bad now that I’d had a taste, there was no way I was ever going to settle for just another meaningless, faceless hookup. She was exquisite, and she was all fucking mine.
“You look happy.” Rhy eyed me accusingly when I walked into my upstairs office at Descartes, his pen still hovering over his bookkeeping ledger.
“Is that a crime?” I slid a bottle of beer across the desk and took a pull of mine. We opened service in two hours, which meant that Cal wouldn’t be here for another hour and a half. Not that I was keeping tabs or anything.
“Depends on what lifted your mood.” Rhy sipped his beer, lounging back. “Is Kieran dead?”
“Alive as far as I know, much to my chagrin.” I fell into the chair opposite him, crossing my ankles over the desk—and his ledger. “How’re the numbers lookin’?”
“Great. Insane profit margin. But selling the land was the right thing. This place is fucking toxic after the bullshit Allison pulled on us.”
If I’m selling. I’d been blue-balling Tate Blackthorn for weeks now. It was like ignoring a tumorous growth, though. I needed to sign on the dotted line if I wanted him to release the funds for my new restaurant and the new mortgages I’d taken on. Blackthorn was right—I was in no position to fuck around and find out.
“Toxicity is where I thrive, so no complaints there.” I shrugged.
“Don’t change the subject. What’s with the perpetual smile?” Rhy frowned. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain green-haired girl, would it?”
“Her tips are red now,” I informed him. “And I don’t kiss and tell.”
“You don’t have to. Your dumbass smile told me the entire story, including the graphic details. Shit, dude, the ass too?” He uncrossed his legs and put them down.
I stomped his foot under the desk, and he let out an agonized yelp. “Watch your mouth when you talk about this woman.” How could I let her walk away? More importantly, how could I make sure she didn’t run off? Calla was so good at running off.
“Does she know how you feel yet?” Rhy accepted his beer, tipping it over his lips and taking a big drink.
Hard no. If she knew how I felt, she’d sprint to the fucking hills. She loved New York. Loved her independence. Loved being alone.
Any hope I entertained about her developing feelings for me in the process was bound to kill me faster than the smoking habit she hated so much.
