best part of me. The money. The security. The safety. I gave you that without the dark shit.”
She takes a step closer and wraps her arms around my neck.
Her smell winds its way into my skin, into the very fabric of my soul. I resist for one second, two… and then my arms yank her close. I press my face into her neck and breathe deep.
“Trust me,” she whispers. “Trust me with the dark stuff, too.”
I groan because the temptation overwhelms me. I won’t be able to say no.
If it’s the only way to stay in this woman’s life, I’ll have to try. A date. With coffee. Christ.
“You’ll regret it,” I warn her. “You’ll wish you only had my money.”
“No,” she says, leaning close for a kiss. I can breathe her in. I can taste her. When her lips move, they brush against mine. “That’s only the surface. I want what’s underneath.”
“And what’s underneath?”
“I see a man who wants to protect me, who wants to take care of me. I see a man who cares more than anyone I know, even if he can only show it with money.”
8
Anita
We go to the MET, and to my surprise, he actually does make me blush. He leans close until his mouth is only an inch away. I dream about this hot little pussy. About how it felt. What it will taste like. I dream about how it will feel wrapped tight around my cock.
He brings me back to my apartment, with only a goodnight kiss outside my door.
The gifts continue—a new fridge, a new oven. We get a sign from the apartment building that there’s new management, and ours is the first apartment to get upgrades. Workers bust down some walls, and now our apartment takes up the space of two. New hardwood flooring instead of worn-down carpet. Double-paned windows with better locks.
On our second date, he takes me to Coney Island.
He’s determined not to ride on a roller coaster. He says his feet were made to be planted on the ground. Until I whisper in his ear all the things I’ll do to him after. The ways I want to taste him, to drink him down. He can’t resist, and when I’m the one who balks at the very last second, he coaxes me onto the coaster with words that send a flash of need through me.
Behind the carnival tent. If you go on the roller coaster like a good girl. If you come to me with your hair all wind-blown, tears of fear and happiness drying on your cheeks, I’ll get down on my knees and make you come with my tongue.
Now we’re going on our third date to a nice French restaurant. I heard that Lin-Manual Miranda was seen eating there with his wife last week. The food is lush, extravagant, delicious. We have hours to talk, about everything and nothing.
And a long walk back to my place.
Valentina and Juana already know not to wait up tonight.
I cleaned up my room, knowing he would come home with me after dinner.
When we get to the door, I’m shivering with nerves. “It doesn’t have to be tonight,” he murmurs against my cheek, holding me close. “Don’t be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid,” I say, even though I’m shaking.
He pulls back and lifts my chin so I face him. In the moonlight, his brown eyes look like pools of liquid gold. “If you need something, you only have to tell me.”
His generosity, his own hesitation, pulls the honesty from my heart. It comes out jumbled and true. “I’m afraid I’ll hurt you. I won’t mean to, but I will. We don’t have to have sex the regular way. We can just do what we’ve been doing. This is enough.”
A ferocity enters that gold, sparks of silver. “It’s not enough.”
“I don’t want to cause you pain.”
He gives me a half-smile. “Not even if I want it?”
I reach up and touch his cheek. His flinch is so slight, I can barely see it. But I do see it. I’m not someone who wants to hurt people. Especially someone I care about. Someone I might even love. “What if it never goes away? What if I touch you day after day, and one day you resent me for it?”
He leans forward and kisses me. His breath is warm. He’s so self-assured, so beautifully sculpted, that somehow, it’s easy to think he’s made of stone. Only when he’s touching me do I know for sure that he’s fully