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“Bemused?” I ask, fighting back a smirk.
“Yeah. Puzzled. Confused.”
“Just wondering why Mayan? What made you prepare these dishes?”
Her face falls, and she looks apologetic and then guilty. She knows, but how does she know? Briefly, she glances at the bookshelf before glancing back at me.
“You found my family photo album.”
It’s not an accusation, but she takes it as such.
“I’m sorry. I was surprised to see that you had a bookshelf. I know it sounds stereotypical, but I didn’t expect it. Nor the contents of it. When I came to the one book with no title, I was just curious.”
“Curiosity killed the cat.”
“In some instances, in mine...it helped me to understand.”
“Understand what?”
“You. Maybe not completely, but your motives. It helped me to understand how wrong I’ve been. How I should reserve judgment and get to know someone before dismissing them. It helped me understand that you’re no different than I am. We just have different methods, is all.”
I glance at my plate and take it to the kitchen. I watch her from where I stand at the island. She’s watching the TV, but I can tell by the tension in her shoulders and the way she keeps twisting her locs around her finger that she’s not paying attention to the TV.
Slowly, I walk back to the living room as Zeus hops off the couch and saunters to his doggie bed.
“Thank you for the meal. Haven’t had anything nearly as good since....”
“I know. Same for me. There were some things that only my mother was good at.”
“What was she like?” I find myself asking.
“Much like me, in some ways.”
“Smart ass and eager to jump into trouble?” I tease.
Laughing, she nods and says, “Something like that. Dad always says I got my bossy, take-no-shit-from-no-one attitude from her.”
“I’m sure she’d be proud of you then.”
Her smile turns down, and she says, “I hope so.”
I cup her chin with my fist and lift her head up. The shock in her eyes at me touching her mirrors the feeling inside me. Her skin is soft and smooth.
“She wouldn’t have a reason not to be. You fight for what you believe in. That’s to be honored.”
Her gaze pins me in place, and I can’t hold back any longer. My hand moves from cupping her chin to grasping her cheeks, pulling her closer to me. I move slowly, waiting for any sign of hesitation, but there’s none. Only the same hunger in her eyes that burns in my groin.
My lips brush hers, and I say, “I promise I’ll annihilate every threat to your peace...to your existence.”
Her eyes search mine, and though she knows what I’m saying, she doesn’t back up. Simone loops her arms around my neck and pulls me closer, leading the kiss this time as she presses her lips against mine and bites the bottom one forcing it open.
When I slip my tongue out to soothe the spot and lick away the salty, metallic taste, she slides her tongue against mine, igniting the embers within. There’s no hesitation or apology. I’ve never been a gentleman, just a man who takes what he wants and discards shit when I’m finished.
And though I know she’s not that type of woman, I don’t back down. Instead, I push her down on the couch and hover above her.
Cool fingers grip the hem of my t-shirt, jerking it up and over my head. She pauses, looking at all my ink, her fingers tracing over the ink covering my left pec, shoulder, and bicep.
“A Mayan ancient warrior tattoo,” she whispers. “In honor of your Mom.”
