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Oh what I wouldn’t give for it to be real. Formeto be real. And not just this faceless ghost who moves through the world unseen, only doing things because someone else ordered it or because it is needed for my immediate survival.
But it’s just a fantasy. A stupid dream. Always has been and always will be. Because instead of behaving like a real person on a real date with a real guy, I fucking panicked when he asked me what kind of food I like. My mind went completely blank. What kind of food do I like? What kind of question is that? I eat because my body needs fuel to function properly, which is vital for the success of my missions and for my continued survival. I hadn’t even considered that I was supposed to have a preference. I eat whatever food keeps me alive.
What a sad fucking life, now that I think about it.
For what is certainly not the first time, I curse all the gods in all religions that I was born into that damn cult. That I never had a choice.
“You okay?”
The cracks spreading through my heart don’t stop, but I block them out and shove all of those useless thoughts out of my mind as I turn to look up at Rico. “Yeah. Sorry. I was just… lost in thought.”
He rubs a slow circle on my back with his thumb. And it’s such a comforting gesture, something that no one has ever given me before, that I almost drown underneath that tide of emotions again. I just want to lean into that touch. Into him. But I can’t. I really,really, can’t.
When we at last reach my door, I’m grateful for the excuse to step away from him.
After unlocking the door, I open it before turning back around.
My heart stutters as I take in the sight of him.
Even in the unforgiving light of the fluorescents in the hallway, he still somehow manages to look like the devil’s gift to mankind.
His dark brown hair that curls softly is perfectly styled, and there is a sinful glint in his eyes as he looks at me. He is wearing a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his toned forearms. The muscles shift slightly as he flexes his hand. And those lips of his. Those damn lips that are lifted in a faint smirk, as if he knows exactly how fucking hot he looks, are just begging for permission to brush against my naked skin.
“Well, this is it,” I say. But it doesn’t come out sounding as breezy and final as I would’ve liked it to.
“Yes, it is,” Rico replies.
But he doesn’t move.
And I don’t tell him to leave either.
He takes a step forward. I instinctively step back only to stop abruptly when my back hits the wall next to the now open door. Rico moves even closer.
My heart pounds in my chest as he reaches towards my face. But all he does is to brush his fingers over my forehead, pushing aside a lock of hair and hooking it behind my ear. It makes my skin tingle.
“We should do this again,” Rico says in that dark alluring voice of his.
No, my instincts scream. But I hear myself saying, “Yes.”
His lips curve in a smile.
I know that there is a very real risk that he is playing me. That he is just pretending to believe me and that this entire night, including what he is doing right now, is just a part of his plan to make me lower my guard around him.
But right now, I’m not sure if I care.
I just want to feel alive again. Like I did back in that shower room. I just want to do something becauseIwant to do it, and not because my survival depends on it. I just want to make a fucking selfish choice for once.
Rico moves impossibly closer.
Bracing his forearm on the wall next to my head, he leans closer and places his lips next to my ear. “Good. Because Ireallywant to do this again.”
It’s getting difficult to breathe. Decades of survival instincts, of professionalism drilled into me by painful lessons and harsh teachers, fight against that desperate need to feel alive for just one bloody second. The desperation that seems to grow stronger every time Rico is close.
He rests his knee against the wall between my legs. And it’s such an effortlessly hot move that it sends a pulsing throb through my clit.
His lips skim across my jaw.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispers.
