Page 26 of Wicked Savage Cruel

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As they dig through the movie selection, Emilio heads to his room and comes back in a pair of sweatpants. He’s still got his ridiculous bikini on over them but he walks in like he’s the hottest shit there ever was. I chuckle under my breath. The guy’s got no shame.

Allie hides her smile behind her hand when she spots him. “You don’t have to keep that on.” She’s taken the corner spot on the sectional and has the throw blanket tucked tight around her body. Is she cold? Do I care? I frown, not wanting to examine my feelings where her well-being is concerned.

Emilio looks down at himself, a smug expression on his face as he says, “I mean, I’m all for rocking my birthday suit, but I don’t think these two would appreciate it.”

“I was talking about the swimsuit,” she says. I watch as heat creeps up her cheeks. She has the prettiest blush.

“What? I look damn fine in this thing.” He cups his junk over the ridiculously bright fabric. “Pink is my color. Besides, a bet is a bet.”

She rolls her eyes and turns to me. “It’s just the four of us. You don’t have to wear it either. But I’m holding you to wearing it anytime you step outside this cabin this weekend. Fair is fair.” Her lip curls into a satisfied smirk giving away that she’s a hint competitive. I’ll have to file that bit of information away for later use.

“I can get behind that.” I untie the black top and toss it on the counter just as the Instant Pot beeps letting me know it’s finished. I turn on thecomal—a cast iron griddle of sorts—and warm up tortillas before portioning out the soup. Normally I’d make them serve themselves but I don’t want Dominique eating all of it in one go. Emilio and I are used to home cooking. Dom’s not, and every time it’s offered the man wolfs it down as though he’s been starved.

My mom practically lives in the kitchen and there is always something hot and ready as soon as I or my pops walk in the door. But Dom’s parents are rarely home and dinner is almost always some catered solitary affair. It’s why Emilio and I try and have him over to our houses for dinner throughout the week. No one should eat alone. Food is meant to be enjoyed with family and those two fuckers are as family as it gets for me.

“Grab your food,” I tell the guys as I grab two bowls, handing one to Allie. Then I go back for the tortillas and place a few on a napkin on the empty seat beside her. I sit down and tug some of the blanket from her lap. I don’t actually want it, but I want an excuse to be close to her. I haven’t had the chance to catalog her features. To memorize her expressions so I know exactly what she’s feeling when she’s feeling it.

“Hey!” Her eyes narrow and there's visible tension in her shoulders.

“I’m in my underwear. It’s cold.” I lie because I’m definitely not cold, but I really want under the blanket now.

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t object again.Score one for this Devil.

Dominique gets the movie going and credits begin rolling as we all dig into the meal.

Allie moans and I fight back a smirk. There’s something satisfying about knowing she likes it. That she’s enjoying something I made for her. “This is so good. I haven’t had albóndigas since—”

She cuts herself off and I turn to look at her. She blinks rapidly then stares down at her bowl like she’s fighting back tears. I take in her bottom lip as it wobbles. The red splotches that appear beneath her eyes as if she’s already cried her eyes out.

An unfamiliar jolt of something I don’t want to realize hits me in the chest.Fuck.She hasn’t had albóndigas since her mom died. That’s what she’d been about to say.

Emilio sees her reaction and meets my gaze with a concerned look of his own. I lift my shoulders just enough as if to sayI have no fucking clue what’s set her off,because I sure as shit am not about to share her secrets with him. They’re mine, and mine alone. But in typical Emilio fashion, he saves the night with a wise ass joke.

“Damn, Allie. You can’t moan like that over soup. My head’s going all sorts of directions after hearing that sexy noise out of you.”

She laughs but there’s a hiccup in there. “You’re such a guy.” She throws a tortilla at him before swiping one of mine to replace the one she just lost. I pretend not to notice.

“Don’t hate. I can’t help I was born with one of these.” He grabs himself underneath the bright pink bikini bottoms covering his sweats and then takes a big bite out of the tortilla she hit him with.

She groans again, this time in feigned annoyance. “I don’t even know what to do with that statement.” This time, her voice isn’t as tight, and some of the redness has receded from her face.

“Yo. Pipe down. Movie’s starting,” Dominique cuts in, and all of our attention goes back to the screen just as Norman Reedus and Sean Patrick Flanery appear on-screen and walk past the priest to kiss Jesus’s feet.

Emilio groans, cocking his head to one side before shaking it. “Boondock Saints. Again?”

To which Dom replies, “Don’t gripe at me. Allie picked it. Girl’s got good taste. Not our fault you don’t.”

Emilio harrumphs but leaves it be and focuses on the albóndigas as we all turn our attention to the screen.

As soon as Allie finishes her food, I whisk the bowls back to the kitchen. The movie is almost halfway through and it’s just now getting to the good stuff.

I reclaim my seat and tug at her blanket once more. She scowls at me and tugs some of it back so I jerk at it again. This time I’m met with a glare. “What are you doing?” she whispers.

“Shhh—” Emilio snaps, engrossed in the show. He might complain about how often we watch this movie when we come out here but he loves it just as much as we do.

Ignoring Allie’s question, I lift the blanket and shift closer until our sides are pressed up against one another. I wrap one arm around her shoulders and pull her closer to my chest while adjusting the blanket until it comfortably covers the two of us.

Her body stiffens for just a moment before she relaxes against me and a small thread of satisfaction filters through me. One of her hands presses to my chest right over my heart and I wonder if she can feel it pounding. This girl makes me feel things I'm not entirely sure I want to feel.