I still sit.
She slides a bottle of the 0% beer I usually drink across the counter.
I open my mouth, then shut it fast. That look in her eyes is a challenge. Say one word about how she stocked up on my favorite beer, and I’m fucked. So I keep quiet, twist the cap, and drink. No questions asked.
“Doesn’t taste the same,” I murmur, turning the bottle to read the label. Then I push it back toward her.
She’s still standing there, watching me. Looking like she’s trying to decide what the hell to do with me — throw me out of her home or fuck me raw.
“Will you do your thing?” I ask quietly. “Give it your special flavour?”
Surprise flashes across her face. Then denial rushes in.
“Please.”
That’s when she deflates. Her bottom lip juts out, just a little. But it’s enough to make my heart slam and my cock twitch.
“You knew,” she groans. “Of course you knew.”
She takes the bottle, throwing me a narrowed look, and swiftly spits inside. Just like she used to when she thought I couldn’t see.
Fuck, I’m about to combust. I swear, if I wasn’t wearing jeans, my cock would drill a hole through this kitchen island, straight to her.
I have to breathe. Deep. Slow. Or I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.
“Wipe that look off your face,” she snaps, pushing the bottle back. There’s no fire behind her bite though, just a hint of amusement. “How long have you known? And why didn’t you say something?”
“Why would I,” I murmur, taking a long drag, “when all you ever did was make it better?”
Damn, that’s good. I’ve missed it all this fucking time.
“You deserved it,” she mutters. “You spit in my mouth in the dungeon.”
“I’d let you spit in my mouth too,” I smirk. The image of her doing just that makes my cock twitch again.
Her lips part. Shocked. Then she shakes her head with a huff.
“Why are you here, Ghost?” she changes the subject, taking a sip of her own beer. “It’s dinnertime. You belong in the lunchtime slot.”
I sigh and lean forward, elbows on the counter, turning the bottle between my hands.
“By the time sunrise comes, I’ll be gone again. I just had to come back and deal with some club business tonight.”
Worry flickers in her eyes.
My voice drops to a whisper. “This is the last trip. In two days, it’ll be over. I just wanted to see you before I leave.”
She looks at me for a few seconds, jaw trembling. I can almost hear her teeth rattling, like her body is turning to ice.
Eventually, she moves. Drags a chair closer and drops into it like the weight of the world is on her shoulders.
“That sounds like you’re not coming back.” Her voice is flat. Empty. She’s pretending, but I see beneath it.
I force a smile. “That is nowhere in the plan, adorable.”
It might not be, but the truth is, the plan is fucked, and anything can go wrong. I’m betting on the word and help of a cartel traitor. But I don’t say that part. She doesn’t need it.
She blinks rapidly, silent tears spilling out of nowhere.
