Fool for Love (Believe #2) (16 page)

“You, living with a woman without trying to dip your dick inside her? Yeah, like that won’t happen,” he snickers at me, causing me to concentrate hard on not punching his face.

“She has a girlfriend,” I lie to stop him from laughing. He only shakes his head, his shoulders shaking.

“Oh, I see. Is she beautiful?”

At once, Suzy’s big, grey eyes and gorgeous figure transform in my mind, and my frown deepens.

“Yes. Very. But that’s beside the point. Didn’t you just hear what I said?” Without letting him answer, I go on, “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. She’s far too young for me.”

He lifts an eyebrow at me. “How young is she?”

“Twenty-four,” I clip. My conscience balks at the offensive number.

“So what? One, she could swing both ways, and two, a difference in age might be good for you. You’re fucked if she’s only into girls, though.” He shrugs, seemingly not caring in the least about what I’ve just said.

“Don’t you have food to prep?” I ask, trying to get him to leave me alone. I’ve had enough of this.

“Sure, in a minute. But let me get something straight…” He puts his hands on my desk and leans closer to peer into my eyes. I narrow my own, refusing to back down.

“If she didn’t have a girlfriend, would you then go after her?”

I don’t care to answer, because of the lie I just told him, but somehow, my mouth opens and I whisper, “Yes.”

Carlos’ surprised gaze meets mine, and my breath leaves my lungs on a loud whoosh. I inhale deeply, feeling as if I’ve just run a marathon. He leans back and walks away. When he reaches the door, he turns back to me.

“I’ve never known you to back down from anything, Garrett. Not even when you were at rock bottom did you give up entirely. It’s time to stop hiding, my friend. It’s time for you to cease living your life in the shadows.”

With that, he opens the door and leaves me alone with my thoughts.

He’s wrong, though. The light is not meant for me. I prefer my darkness.

I’m determined to keep away from Suzy, to keep my darkness away from her light – untainted that she is.

Food is my life. Preparing and cooking my grandmother Rosa’s old recipes, adding my own flourish to them, are the only things that have kept me sane all these years. I revel in the different scents that fill my nostrils as I cook; the flavours creating fireworks on my palette when I take the first bite; and the way food can be both a comfort, as well as an outlet.

Great food makes me come close to happiness…but I also know that food can be the enemy for many people in this day and age. I guess we all have a vice, but this is not mine. As I stand here in the kitchen, overseeing my staff, a semblance of peace finally falls upon me.

Cooking was my first love, and it will also be my last.

This aspect of my life will always bring me some amount of joy, I’m certain of it.

L
IVING WITH
G
ARRETT THE
past week has been surprisingly easy – probably because he’s almost never home.

That man must be a machine. Either he’s asleep when I wake up, and I try to make as little noise as possible, only to find him gone when I come out of the shower; or he’s not there when I open my eyes to a new day, the pull-out couch looking pristine and neat like it did the day before. I get a text message from him every day, though, letting me know if he needs me to take care of Rufus for him or not. No pleasantries…no
‘Hello, I hope you have a great day’
. To tell the truth, it feels weird, as if he’s avoiding me somehow. It’s also pretty damn rude, and I don’t like it.

Rufus doesn’t, either, and I’m determined to talk to Garrett about it today. It’s Monday, and I know that his restaurant is closed; I didn’t ask him, but checked out the website the other day. I’ve set my alarm to wake me up super early to catch him before he leaves to do God only knows what.

The only thing that seems to have changed since he got back is my eating habits, because there’s always plenty of food in the fridge now; one of the first texts from Garrett was him practically ordering me to help myself to his delicious dishes. While it did not sit well with me at first, I can’t resist them.

He’s seducing me with food, and he doesn’t even know it.

I used to love food, to take pleasure in the scents and the tastes, but it’s been a long time since I’ve given it the attention it deserves. I’m relieved that my loss of appetite has vanished, as it’s been worrying me a bit. Now, though, my clothes fit better, and I kind of love the couple of pounds I’ve gained that seem to have taken up residence on my booty and boobs.

The late nights working at
The Vault
are catching up with me. While I still don’t feel entirely comfortable wearing my uniform, I don’t feel as unsettled as I did in the beginning. I have to admit that I’m kind of fascinated by what I witness there – though I swear I’ll never understand how some people are able to kneel before someone else, giving up their free will entirely – and most of the patrons have been nothing but civil. The other staff members have been very friendly towards me, and now that my financial situation has become more stable, I’m somewhat happier.

Except not this particular morning when the alarm wakes me up two hours earlier than usual.

I’m
so
not a morning person, but I’m determined to tell Garrett a thing or two about me. While I don’t mind dog-sitting occasionally, this weird atmosphere has to stop.

Yawning, I hit the off button on my phone. Before I get tempted to roll over and sleep for a few hours longer, I kick my blankets off and nudge Rufus, whose favourite bed seems to be my own, and I get up. My eyes are still gritty with sleep as I put on my robe and walk slowly towards the couch. As I stop in front of it, I look down at Garrett’s sleeping form. He’s only wearing his boxers, one arm behind his head, his long hair fanned out on the armrest. As my sleep-befuddled brain slowly wakes up, I peruse his body without shame.

The first thing I notice about him is the date that’s tattooed just above his heart:

05.10.2000

What does it mean?

The angry, fire-spewing dragon tattoo covering his shoulder and down the length of his right arm is breath-taking, but it’s a cruel kind of beauty; the scales are a mixture of black, turquoise, and green. The dangerous glint in its brown eyes almost makes me want to divert my own, to bow down to its dominance.

How silly.

A small smattering of golden hair covers his chest, trailing down his abs, and I gasp when I take in how
fit
Garrett actually is. He’s not bulky, as I first thought, but definitely not lean, either. My eyes fall on his abs, and I lick my lips, almost salivating at the V at his hips.

Yum. Delicious.

I widen my eyes in shock when I see a small, golden tattoo of a dragonfly on the inside of his left arm; the design is similar to the one I have on my hip bone, only mine is red. I wonder about its significance.

Then my gaze falls on his lips, and I place a hand on my racing heart. Blinking, I shake my head, completely taken aback by my thoughts, because they are definitely not welcome this morning. I’ve been doing a great job at keeping my strange crush on him at bay this week, but now, as I stand here, getting rather turned on by the sight of my hunk of a roommate, it hits me full force. I breathe deeply and sit down on the coffee table behind me. If I don’t, I think my trembling body will betray me; that I’ll reach out to him and touch him, waking him up as I do. That would be awkward.

Taking one long breath after the other, I can’t keep my eyes from lingering on the bulge in his boxers, and I feel a flush spread in my cheeks.

Dangerous. That’s what this is.

“Keep looking at me like that, babe, and you’ll have to face the consequences.”

My eyes fly to Garrett’s, who, unbeknownst to me, has become wide awake. His rumbled voice, while low, has no less of an effect on me as when we last spoke, and I lick my lips.

“What consequences?” I whisper, throat parched.

“You don’t want to know,” he grumbles. Slowly, he sits up until he’s across from me, leaning into my space.

“Try me,” I persist, narrowing my eyes at him.

He frowns, and my heart beats madly as his face draws ever nearer until his mouth is only a hairs breath away from my own. His eyes are so dark, so cold, but his breathing is as laboured as mine. It gives me a sick sense of satisfaction to see that he’s just as affected as I am.

“Alright,” he whispers. “If you keep it up, I’ll tear your clothes off, place you on the couch, and eat out your pussy until you scream my name before slamming my cock inside you. All the while I’ll restrain your hands so you can’t touch me.”

Ho-ly. Shit!

I open my mouth, but no sound leaves me. I can only remain staring into his eyes, mesmerised by the intense determination I find there.

He isn’t finished. “And when I’ve done spilling my seed inside you, I’ll leave you alone. No cuddles. No endearments will fall from my lips. Is that clear enough for you?”

He puts a hand on my neck, his thumb caressing my bottom lip, and the gesture belies his words. A man who can touch me so softly like this can’t be all hard and cold. I don’t believe it.