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“I was a dick earlier,” she said.
“Shit, I think I need to go buy me a lottery ticket,” I said, giving her a smirk. “Hope has admitted she was wrong.”
“I said that I was a dick, not that I was wrong,” she clarified, giving me a sleepy half smile. “Where were you all day?”
“You worried about me?” I asked, climbing out of the chair, and making my way to the side of her bed.
“No,” she said immediately, then sighed. “Maybe,” she conceded.
“Don’t worry, ma,” I said, reaching out to slide a wisp of hair out of her eyes. “I’ll always come back.”
“Even when I’m a dick?” she clarified.
“Yeah. Even then. Maybe especially then,” I added.
“Why? Are you a masochist?”
“Nah,” I said, nudging her hip until she got my meaning and slid over a bit, making room for me to climb in after kicking off my shoes. “Maybe I just like how soft and sweet you get when you’re sorry.”
“Soft and sweet,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes at me. “I think you’re talking about another woman. No one thinks I’m soft. Or sweet.”
“Nah, but I do,” I said, sliding an arm under her pillow then using it to pull her against me.
“You’re delusional then.”
“Feel pretty soft to me,” I said, running my hand down her chest, then stomach. “And that,” I said as a little whimper escaped her as my fingers pressed between her thighs, “Sounds pretty sweet to me.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Hope
The relief I felt when I opened my eyes and saw him in my room damn near took my breath away.
Because, well, I knew he was going after Luis. And there was no way to know for sure how many of his men Luis had corrupted, had brought to his side.
Andres was all on his own, with no one to trust, and out for blood.
That was not a good combination.
But there he was, on one of the recliners in the room, wearing a black hoodie and black jeans, eyes closed, getting some much-needed sleep.
I shouldn’t have woken him up.
I knew how important rest was to keep you on your toes. But I couldn’t let another day go by without at least trying to apologize to him.
I wouldn’t claim that it was something I was good at. But I had to try.
I didn’t expect him to have already forgiven it. Not only forgiven it, but found something good in it.
Good enough that he wanted to climb into bed with me.
I knew I wasn’t supposed to want it. To want him. The thing was… it didn’t matter how much I kept denying the truth. Doing so didn’t make it go away. So what was the point?
I slid over.
He climbed in.
And I damn near melted into him, not having realized until right that moment how much I’d been craving touch, comfort, someone to give me a little strength.
Yes, Vi had visited. And she’d given me what she knew I would accept from her. Something light, fun, a little medicine chased with some honey. That was what she knew I would accept from her. No more, no less.
Andres, though, he seemed to innately understand that even if I didn’t want to ask for it, or even admit that I wanted it, that I craved contact and sweetness. And that I would allow him to give me that.
Why?
God, that was a good question.
Any men I’d known before who had even tried to show me soft, sweet, comfort, or anything of the like had been booted out of my life.
I always figured it was just because I didn’t want those things.
As it turned out, though, I just didn’t want those things with them.
I did want them with A.
Did that make any sort of rational sense?
Nope.
But I was too tired of fighting it.
I wanted it too much.
So I let him pull me against his strong body. I let myself sink into it as his arm curled around me, holding me close.
My breathing slowed and I allowed my eyes to drift closed as his hand moved down my body, as it slipped between my thighs.
Was it probably insane to let him put his hands on me in that way in a hospital where I was a patient? Probably. But I couldn’t bring myself to care about the consequences as his hand found its way under my gown, under my panties, and started to stroke up my cleft, began to circle around my clit, but not quite making contact.
“You’re gonna need to breathe for me, mama,” he murmured, his breath warm on the top of my head, making matching heat flood through my belly and chest. “Or that monitor of yours is gonna go off, and the nurses are gonna come running.”
God.
I hadn’t even thought of the heart rate monitor.
My gaze slid in that direction, watching the little line tick up and down a little too quickly, seeing my oxygen slow because I was holding my breath a bit to keep from moaning.
