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“You did good,” he breathes, burying his face in my chest. I can feel him catching his breath, his warmth. I can feel that he’s happy.
I remember the bathroom in his house in Medina, pitch black and smelling of sweat and fear. The fucking dog bed. The bolts.
I pull him in, fitting his tousled head under my chin. I can’t hold him tight enough. “Please tell me what happened to you,” I say into his hair. “I’ll fix it. I promise.”
He pulls back, puts his hands on either side of my face, studies me. I can already see his answer in his eyes. “No, you won’t.”
He kisses me, on his toes, lips coated in salt. He sucks on my tongue until my knees go weak. When I push my hand down the front of his shorts, he grins. “I had you pegged from the moment we met, pervert.” He rocks his hips into my palm.
I push his hair away from his face, grip the back of his neck. “And I always knew you were a twisted little brat.”
He looks so happy it kills me. “I was put on this earth to ruin your life,” he breathes in my ear.
“Fucking right.”
