Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 50080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
Yuck. Yuck. Yuck.
I'd rather die than have someone see me being tickled, so fine. We're already dating anyway, so it's not like he won't know the truth sooner or later.
I take a deep breath...and just grumble the words out in one go.
"Everything about this is pro bono."
It's the most painful admission I've ever made, and all I can do is snarl as he suddenly hauls me to his lap with a laugh that patently rubs salt in my wound.
"You adorable little hypocrite," Rake purrs. "Who's the killer with a soft heart now?"
Grrr.
"I do not have a soft heart."
"Do you know how cute you are when you're angry?"
Why does he keep saying I'm 'cute' and not 'beautiful'? People say I'm beautiful all the time, and it's always made me feel like I'm a monster hiding under a mask. But every time this man says I'm cute, he makes me feel so vulnerably human—-
"You're looking at me that way again," he says softly.
"Like what?"
"Like you can't make your mind up if I'm more helpful dead or alive."
"Because I don't get you at all," I mutter. "You know what I am. You know what I can do. So why doesn't it seem to matter to you?"
"Because I like what you are. Or rather...this between us won't even work if you're not who you are."
I know a man has to be crazy himself to want someone like me, but isn't what Rake said a little too crazy?
"Are you saying you don't want me to change?"
"I'm saying I never want you to change."
I'm not empathetic as a rule, but even though his tone is still light, the pain underscoring his words is unmistakable and heartbreakingly familiar. It's the same pain I felt when my sister and brother-in-law were taken from me, and so I know.
"You lost someone," I say quietly.
"You sound like you're hurting for me, darling." A smile touches his lips as he says this, but it's the first time I don't see his eyes twinkle at the same time.
"And now you're changing the subject."
"I am, aren't I?"
"Who was she?"
"Just a girl...who was too good for this world."
I expected myself to feel angry at hearing him talk about another girl, but instead it just makes me feel sad.
"She liked to put everyone else before her first."
Because this man has changed me, and now that our hearts are beating as one—-
It's so frighteningly easy to tell.
That girl is someone he once loved, and I know he said he doesn't ever want me to change, but what if he just doesn't know he's lying, and I can never compare to her?
Chapter Nine
I TELL KAYRA I NEED a stiff drink if she wants me to continue dredging up old memories, and I simply nod when she tells me she knows just the place. The past has me blind to my surroundings, and it's only when we take our seats by the counter, and a familiar voice jovially calls out to me that I realize where we are.
"That you, Drake?"
Well, fuck.
The bartender of Mackie's also happens to be the owner himself, and the older man claps a back over me in hearty greeting.
"Nice to fucking see you again, man."
"You, too, Mackie."
"This young lady your date?"
"This is Kayra, my future wife."
Her eyes tell me to drop dead, but I only smile because I'm on to her, and all these threats are just part of her love language.
Mackie hangs around to chat with us a bit more, but as soon as work calls him away—-
"Will you please stop calling me that?" Kayra hisses under her breath.
"I will—-"
Kayra's expression turns wary.
"As soon as we're married," I continue with a grin, "because by then I'll have the right to call you Mrs. Morrison."
"You—-"
"—-are also free to call me your future husband anytime."
I pull her to my lap as I speak, and she hisses like the most adorably angry little kitten that only Kayra can turn into.
"Can't you see everyone staring at us?" she demands under her breath.
"So?"
"It's obvious they know you."
"They do." This used to be one of my old stomping grounds back when I was still a Fed, and I'm sure most of the people staring at us are wondering what I'm doing with a mafia princess like Kayra.
"And me."
"Just get to the point, darling."
"Don't you care about—-"
I cup her face and kiss her.
There you go, darling.
This kiss is the answer to her question, just like her kiss is the answer to everything I need.
Her kiss is heaven, with the way her lips are able to make me feel what I need to feel, every goddamn time.
When I felt dead, it was her kiss that brought me to life, and now that I feel trapped in the past, it's her kiss that brings me back to the present.
Why would I care about what others may think or say...when her kisses mean everything to me?