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Because he’d made a comment about my fucking eyes, and how their color looked amazing in the moonlight.
Yeah, I know. What kind of fucking asshole gets weird about some romantic shit like that? This kind of asshole, that’s who. Because it just reminded me that there was no possible way Taavi Camal was interested in a failed ex-cop with a big fucking mouth and terrible social skills. And that only left my looks.
And, sure, there are plenty of people out there who would take advantage of that, but… I’m not one of them because I have the horrible misfortune to have been raised with a more-than-healthy dose of Catholic guilt.
My parents left the church after my change, mostly because people in their church made comments about how it ‘must have happened for a reason,’ and my usually tolerant mother had decided that was quite enough of that bullshit, since it was code for either ‘your son did something stupid’ or ‘your son is a bad person for being gay, so this is what he gets.’
I love my mom.
I don’t really love some of the baggage my Catholic childhood left me with, although most of it probably has nothing to do with my parents and everything to do with me.
Baggage that meant I couldn’t help but think that it was my elven body and nothing else that Taavi was interested in. And I’m the kind of sentimental asshole who wants someone to actually care abouthim, which… yeah, I get it. I could be nicer and maybe more people would like me, but that’s just not the way I’m wired.
So when Taavi stood on his toes and pulled my mouth down to his, my stomach was a churning mess. But I kissed him anyway, both because I’m a selfish dick and because it was a really fucking good kiss.
And Taavi, whose lips tasted like the cheesecake we’d shared for dessert, didn’t seem terribly keen on letting me get away.
So I let myself melt into him, pulling his hips against me and groaning in the back of my throat at the feel of his body and the warmth of his tongue.
I wanted this. I wanted to find out what the rest of his tattoo looked like. I wanted to run my hands over his muscles and taste the salt of his bare skin. I wanted to find out what kinds of sounds he would make and whether he curled his toes or spread them when he came.
Fucking hell.
Except I couldn’t.
I just…
Couldn’t.
I broke away, every cell in my body protesting what my brain was about to make them do. Or not do, as the case may be.
“I—can’t,” is what I managed to make my mouth say.
Taavi frowned up at me. “Why?” he asked.
Both of us were breathless.
I closed my eyes, because looking at him wasn’t helping me say what I knew I had to. “You might be attracted to me, to this body, but you don’t likeme.” This stupid elven body, lean, lithe, beautiful, and my even stupider asshole personality just didn’t mix. Lust was a powerful drug, but even that couldn’t hold two people together when one of them was a raging dick.
Taavi put his hands on his hips, his brown eye flashing, the white one glittering like ice as he glared up at me. “That’s a load of crap, Hart.”
“It is not,” I snapped back. “You see this,” I gestured at myself, “and on top of that, you feel like you have to repay me for helping you. You don’t.”
“That isn’t what this is,” Taavi insisted.
“No?” I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling like I had to hold myself together.
“No, and you know it.”
“I don’t,” I snapped. “You’ve offered to repay me twice now. I wouldn’t take your fucking money, so this is how you’re trying to compensate for that.”
“Es mierda.”
“I don’t fucking speak Spanish, Taavi.”
He glared at me. “Bullshit.”
“Idon’t—”
