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Well, what else is new? I gulp down another swig.
“In the movies, they bite down on a strip of leather.” Leah’s voice makes me jump, and I glance up to find her by my shoulder. She chews her bottom lip—plush and pink; would look perfect wrapped around my cock—then slowly, like I’m a wild animal that might lash out, reaches out and cards her fingers through my hair.
Jesus Christ. I buck into her hand, the scratch of her nails sending shivers down my spine.
“You’ll want to stay back,” Raul says stiffly, and I know he wants her gone so he can have an empty space to work. It’s clear from the rigid set of his shoulders and the way he keeps glancing at his bag—at theothertools he keeps in there.
If he lays a finger on her, I’ll shatter both his kneecaps. Drunk or not, I’ll do it.No onetouches Leah.
“This is going to hurt him, even with the whiskey,” Raul tells her, unscrewing the clear alcohol. “Nico might thrash. Go on home and I’ll take it from here.”
“Iamhome.” Fuck, she looks cute when she’s angry. Leah’s cheeks are bright pink, and she’s squaring up to the doctor even though she’s pint-sized. He could squash her like a bug.
Don’t like that thought. I hook a finger through her belt loop and tug her closer, my head fuzzy. “You live here, baby?”
If Raul rolls his eyes any harder, they’ll get stuck pointing at the back of his skull.
Leah ignores him, still scratching my scalp. Feels like heaven on earth—worth the stab wound, that’s for sure. “Yeah. There’s an apartment above the bookshop. I live up there.”
“Alone?”
Raul shakes his head as he threads the needle, but I’m just checking. For security reasons.
“Yep. Since my Aunt Karen left, it’s just me.” When Leah leans down, the ends of her hair tickling my bare chest, I breathe in a chestful of brown sugar and spice. So good.
Her voice is soft in my ear. Husky and private. “And that’s not a wedding ring on your hand, is it, Nico Falasca?”
“Nope,” I agree happily, swigging the whiskey one more time before laying flat with a thump. “No ring, baby. I’m all yours.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Raul begins, but we both freeze when Leah’s hands land on my belt buckle. She’s not—is she—? In front ofRaul?
“Bite down on this.” I relax against the table again as Leah pulls my belt from its loops. The leather whispers against fabric, my hips lifting an inch to help her out, and I can’t meet Raul’s eye. I know what we both thought for a second there.
He’ll never see her that way. I decide on the spot: he’ll never get a single goddamn glimpse of her like that.
Leah ismine.
The leather creaks as I bite down, sinking my teeth into the belt. That does help, actually.
“Ready?” Raul asks, peeling the cotton pad off my wound.
Glancing around, I catch Leah’s wrist and put her hand back in my hair. Then I screw my eyes shut and nod.
Fingernails scratch at my scalp.
Ready.
* * *
“You know you can’t keep her.”
The street blurs past the tinted car windows, snowflakes pattering against the glass. I’m still woozy from the whiskey, cracking the nearest window to gulp down fresh air, but my head’s clearer now. Getting a stab wound stitched up is sobering like that.
“Keep who?”
I wanna play dumb, but Raul’s not buying it. His knee keeps jiggling, and he’s staring at me with his arms folded over his chest. That magazine-worthy hair is all rucked up from running his hands through it, and there’s a smudge on the right lens of his glasses.
Our doctor has had a long night. Yeah, that’s on me.
