Текст книги "Raw"

Автор книги: Belle Aurora

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Placing the cocoa on a tray, I walk it over to my coffee table just as the front door to my unit opens. Looking up, I find a much too happy Nikki strolling in with a container.

A container full of...

“Double choc, peanut butter niknaks?” I almost screech. “You made double choc, peanut butter niknaks?”

Taking in her grin, I bounce on the spot in excitement. Those niknaks are the shit.

“What’s the occasion?” I ask from her side, reaching into the container. Slapping my hand away, she chuckles at my forlorn expression and utters, “All in good time, honey.”

When Dave strolls into the living area dressed in light grey sweat sans tee, towel drying his hair, he takes one look at Nikki and grins cockily, “I’m so glad you’re here!”

She sends him an equally winning smile and lays on the sweetness a little too thick. “Oh, sweetie, I missed you too! Come have a niknak.”

Dave spies the niknaks. His face pulls into a frown. Almost asking himself, he mutters, “Why do we have niknaks today?”

Nikki motions for us both to sit and says, “No. You go first! Tell us your big news!”

Dave, looking like a child being told he is allowed to jump on the bouncy castle, sits and starts, “Whelp. I know we had a little competition going on the other night with who would nail Happy…” Holy shit, this is news to me! My eyes widen in shock as he continues, “…so I hope there’s no hard feelings, sweet cheeks.”

Nikki’s eyes narrow dangerously. “What do you mean?”

Reaching for his cocoa, he sips then smirks into his mug. “I won.”

Nikki pulls the cocoa out of his hands and Dave glares at her, “Hey, it’s no big deal. He’s just into guy—”

But she cuts him off with an abrupt, “When? When did you fuck him?”

Dave clears his throat, “Well, technically, he fucked me. And the event occurred last night.”

Well. This is awkward. I wish the ground would swallow me up.

A small smile breaks out on Nikki’s face and I’m not sure what to make of it. It’s almost like the Mona Lisa smile. I narrow my eyes while searching her face. She’s hiding something.

Dave blinks a moment before he blurts out, “Well, this sucks. I thought I’d feel all triumphant, but now I just feel like poo on a shoe! Thanks, Nikki. Thanks a lot,” then shoves not one, but two niknaks into his mouth in an attempt to show his current state of depression.

My wide eyes drift from Nikki to Dave, while trying to blend into the background like a chameleon.

I read somewhere that they can smell fear. Be still and impersonate a leaf.

That’s when Nikki picks up a niknak and nibbles on it. With a sigh, she looks upset as she tells Dave, “Don’t sweat it, babe. But you’re wrong.”

Still nibbling her treat, Dave looks confused as he asks her, “What do you mean I’m wrong?”

Shoving the niknak into her mouth, she replies a garbled, “Oo didit in. I id.”

Dave and I look at each other, unable to decipher her food-talk. Dave shrugs. “Yeah, I didn’t quite catch that.”

Taking her time chewing, she finally swallows, stands, and points at Dave, shouting, “You didn’t win! I did!”

Poor Dave. His level of confusion just went from I don’t get it to I’m special.

He mutters, “What? Whe—?” Gasping, he stands, points right back at Nikki, and yells, “Extra-long bathroom break at the masque!” Narrowing his eyes accusingly, he shakes his finger in her face. “There was no line, was there? You were getting porked! By the hottie!”

I can only watch in surprise as Nikki curtsies and announces, “Best fifteen minutes I ever spent in a bathroom.”

Unable to stand being a mere spectator any longer, I also stand and holler, “Who are you people and what have you done with my best friends?”

Nikki and Dave look shocked at my outburst before they look at each other and burst into laughter.

Dave moves to stand by Nikki, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Honey, this isn’t news. We do stuff like this all the time. You know? Playing who can get the guy.”

Nikki leans into Dave and nods, “Yeah. He’s right. Not the first time. Won’t be the last, either.”

I’m dumbstruck. Mouth gaping, I clarify, “So neither of you are pissed at each other? You don’t care that you’ve slept with the same guy?”

Nikki scoffs, “No way. It’s all just for fun. We haven’t done it in a long time. Not since Dave and Phil were together, so it was overdue.”

Dave chuckles, “Yeah, we’ve even done three in a bed—” Nikki’s eyes widen as she elbows Dave in the ribs. He scowls at her, “Ow! What the hell was that for?”

My jaw hits the floor.

No. Effing. Way.

Leaning forward, I whisper-hiss, “You guys have done threesomes together?”

Dave’s eyes narrow at my outburst. He quickly realizes why Nikki elbowed him to keep his mouth shut. Slowly walking towards me, his eyes watch me carefully as he says, “Yes, baby, we have.”

I’m a little miffed that I didn’t know this. Best friends tell each other things like this. When he spots my obvious hurt, he wraps me up in a hug. “It’s got nothing to do with how we feel about you, babe. We were both just in places where we didn’t want you to judge us for what we like. I’m not saying you would’ve done that, but the possibility was enough to make us keep it to ourselves. We love you.”

Taking a moment to ponder what he just said, I wrap my arms around his waist and squeeze him tightly. Arms come around me from the back and Nikki kisses my hair. “We do love you, Lex. Thinking you wouldn’t get it or think we were weird was scary as fuck. Do you think we’re weird?”

God, are they right? Am I judgey? I thought I was pretty open-minded, but my initial reaction shows that’s not entirely true.

If they only knew about the things Twitch likes to do to you…

Sweet lord in heaven. Here I am, silently judging them when I’ve done the same thing. I haven’t told either of them the extent of my sexual relationship with Twitch; all I’ve told them is he likes it rough. They know nothing of his need for constant control, or the belt…

Sigh.

The belt. I love the belt.

Swallowing hard, I realize I’m not unlike them. And now that I’ve had a moment to gather myself, I tell them both, “No! I don’t think you’re weird, guys. It was just a shock. I guess I felt left out a little. So if you want to look at it like that…I’m the weird one!”

Group-hugging a little while longer, we release each other and spend most of the night chatting and eating niknaks. Around eleven, my friends leave. Waving them off, I shut the door behind me and make my way down the hall to my room.

As soon as the door opens, my heart skips a beat.

Smiling a small smile, I listen to the footsteps as they make the slow decent towards me. Once my unexpected visitor reaches my back, his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me into him. Reaching back, I stroke his hair gently and say quietly, “Michael. He’s okay?”

Twitch sighs, “Been waiting most of the fuckin’ night for your friends to leave, so I don’t really wanna talk right now, Angel.”

He’s been waiting? Waiting patiently like a gentleman? Whoa. That is big. No, it’s huge.

Turning in his arms, I look up at him. With the lights off in my room, an angelic glow provided by the kitchen light in the distance covers his face. “You waited?”

His brow furrows in thought, as if he hadn’t even considered that fact. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

And I can’t stop myself. Reaching up, I cup his cheeks and pull him down to me. Our lips connect. His arms tighten around my waist, but his lips don’t respond to mine. “Kiss me,” I beg on a whisper.

He whispers back against my lips, “Naw. I like when you kiss me.”

Smiling against his mouth, I feel his returning smile and my heart swells.

Something is different about him tonight. There’s something more to him this time.

Something warm.

His arms loosen, his hands slide down my hips, and he slowly cups my ass, squeezing. Hooking his thumbs into my sweatpants, he pushes them down, along with my panties. My most sensitive place throbs and I flood.

Walking me back to my bed, he pushes me, and I land with a bounce on my back. Looking me in the eye, he states, “You move, I stop.” Lowering his face to my already-clenching core, he says, “Be vocal. I like to hear you.”

Draping my legs over his shoulders and back, he kneels on the floor at the edge of my bed and takes a long, hot swipe of my pussy. Electricity flows through my veins. My body trembles as I let out a soft sigh. He licks twice more before he utters, “Never tasted anything like you before. Never had a pussy that tasted sweet.” Flattening his tongue, he laps at my entry over and over and over again before saying, “If I could eat your pussy all day, every day, I’d fuckin’ find a way to make it my job.”

His words, although vulgar, are the sweetest things I’ve heard come out of his mouth since I’ve known him. Reaching up between my legs, I run my fingers through his hair, and his licking turns to sucking. My hips jerk involuntarily, pushing myself deeper into his face.

I moan loudly. He growls and sucks in perfect rhythm.

My eyes roll back when he flicks my clit with his tongue. My breathing turns heavy, and my thighs clench around his head.

“Do not come, Lexi.”

Oh, you motherf—…frack you!

I’m so close I can taste it. Barely above a whisper, I chant, “Please, please, please.”

With one final swipe of his tongue, he stands. And I want to kick him for teasing me. So I do.

I kick out at his hip, and when my foot taps him, he looks down at his hip with a frown, then back up at me. And suddenly, my annoyance is replaced with concern. All I can think is, “Oh damn. I’m in trouble.”

With a growl, he throws himself onto me and I squeal. His arms wrap around me and he flips us so I’m on top of him. I want to cry. I know he has anger issues and I provoked him. What the hell is wrong with me? My heart races. I’m petrified. Then I feel something that makes me go from worried to mad in one second flat.

“What are you laughing at?” I ask defiantly.

Straddling his lap, I push on his chest and he laughs harder. “It’s not funny, Twitch! I could’ve hurt you!”

His laughter borderlines hysterical. Crossing my arms over my chest, I glare at him and wait til he gets his laughter under control. When he breathes deeply and smiles up at me, my anger melts away.  Pushing my hair behind my ear, he says, “Today was a bad day. So I come here to unwind, spend some time with my mouth on you, wanting your mouth on me. I didn’t come here expecting to laugh like that. I haven’t laughed like that since I was a teenager. And most of that type of laughter when I was a teen was because I was high as a fucking kite.”

That makes me sad.

When he eyes my gloomy face, he smiles harder, “Fuckin’ funny.”

His eyes darken suddenly, and he sits up so we’re chest-to-chest. “Don’t think I forgot about your temper tantrum.” Wrapping one arm around my back, his free hand slides down to my bare ass and squeezes hard enough to make me wince. Starting at my neck, he kisses a trail up my jaw, to my cheek, then finally at the corner of my lips. “Kiss me, Angel.”

My breathing heavy, my eyes hooded, I answer on a hoarse whisper, “Okay, baby.”

Brushing his lips over mine, I tilt my head slightly and lean into him. The kiss is slow but deep, and when his lips close over mine, I realize he’s actually kissing me back this time. His hand kneading my ass, I fall into a dream-like state. A dream-like state that doesn’t last long.

Thwack!

Crying out into his mouth, he kisses me harder as my ass cheek goes numb a second before it throbs.

Thwack!

Whimpering, my face contorts in pain. His hand caresses the throbbing area, and suddenly my brain interrupts the pain broadcast, thinking, “Whoa. Is that meant to feel nice?”

Thwack

Harder than the first two, I pull away from his mouth, and tilting my head back, I cry out. My eyes widen a moment. Wetness forms between my legs.

Thwack!

My mouth forms an O in a silent scream. Our eyes meet, neither of us giving anything away. His hand runs over the sore, hot flesh before trailing low, lower to touch the puckered flesh. I tense. His fingers linger there a moment before he uses a fingertip to test the state of my arousal.

My cheeks heat. The ones on my face.

Normal people don’t get off on stuff like this.

Twitch runs his fingertip up and down my wet and warm flesh. His eyes flash a moment, then darken, and he shuts them on a groan, “You need to sit on my cock.”

Rolling us both to the side, he sets me down a moment before frantically undoing his belt and removing his slacks, shirt, and suspenders in record time. Standing in front of me, he strokes his thick, long cock; the silver balls twinkle in the subdued light. Lying next to me, he continues to stroke his cock. Turning, he mutters, “Ride me.”

He doesn’t need to ask me a second time. Climbing on all fours, I put one leg over and mount him. We’re both ready. There’s no need to waste time. Reaching behind me, I hold his cock up, line him up with my entrance and slowly sit, allowing the head of him into me.

Giving myself a moment to adjust, I place both hands on his chest, looking down at him as he grips my hips. He watches me through lust-hooded eyes. And suddenly, an unexpected wave of emotion passes through me. Reaching up, I stroke the inked thirteen on the apple of his cheek. I feel scarred flesh under the tattoo.

You wouldn’t guess that thirteen is hiding a scar just from looking.

Shaking my head and closing my eyes, I pull my hand away. A tight grip on my wrist stops me, bringing my hand back to his cheek. He leans into my touch, almost like a cat. Turning his head, he kisses the inside of my wrist. And my throat clogs.

Do not fall in love with him!

Yeah. That would be all sorts of fucked up.

Needing the distraction from this heavy moment, I seat myself further down onto him, further still, until my ass meets his crotch. Feeling full and hot, my eyes flutter. He feels amazing.

Looking up at him, his brow furrows in what looks to be confusion.

Reaching up, he joins my hands with his, linking our fingers, and rests the backs of his hands on the bed by his head.

This is becoming too much. My throat thickens to the point where I can’t swallow.

He’s giving me control.

A hoarse whisper escapes me, “Don’t play games with me.”

Rather than answering me, he leans his face up and my chest aches. Leaning down, my lips connect with his in a sweet and gentle kiss. Against my lips, he mumbles, “Perfect.”

Shit. This is intense.

Deepening our kiss, I begin a rocking motion and swallow his deep groan. Slow and steady, up and down, he allows me complete control over what’s happening here. We rock together, kissing, touching, connecting in a way I never thought possible with a man like him. Pulling back slightly, I kiss his lips softly. Pressing whispers of kisses all over his face. His cheeks, his eyes, his nose, then finally back to his soft full lips, all the while grinding deeply onto him.

Lifting myself to a sitting position, I gasp as I find the spot. You know? That spot.

His eyes trained on me, he watches me come closer and closer to my release. I tighten around him and I’m there. My spine tingles; closing my eyes, white spots flash before me as I moan. Suddenly, my eyes snap open and I look down at him, holding back my release. His mouth parted, he nods, giving me what I need.

Permission.

My heart races. Tilting my head back, I moan long and low as the first contraction grips him tightly. Letting go of me, his hands span my hips. He holds me firmly, thrusting up into me. My core clenches around him and ecstasy flows through me.

The very last of my contractions subsides. I feel his cock swell inside of me. Pulling my hips down hard, my eyes meet his as he silently goes through his release, stomach clenching, never taking his soft brown eyes off mine.

Panting fills my room. Neither one of us makes an effort to disconnect. The thought of not having him inside of me right now makes my stomach dip in anxiety. As if he senses this, he rolls us over so I lie on my back. Never leaving my body, he rests his forehead in the crook of my neck, kissing my collarbone, and my body relaxes completely.

Wrapping my arms around him, I grip the back of his neck with one hand, the other stroking his hair. My arms wrap around Twitch, and his unconsciously squeeze me tightly.

I could do this forever.

That was my last thought before I fell asleep.

Making my way into work, I feel the eyes of people beaming at me like lasers, clearly confused at the obvious spring in my step.

“Good morning everyone,” I greet with a sly smile on my face. I’m pretty darn sure the thought on my co-workers minds is, “Well, shit. Somebody got the business.”

And I did get the business.

Twitch is very good at giving me the business. But last night, it was more.

He gave me control of something he’s not used to passing the reins on. And what’s more is he didn’t sweat it. He didn’t get angry or frustrated. He showed me in his own subtle way that he trusts me. Which is a bucket load of awesome.

And it was amazing. It was also extremely emotional. Like watching a baby turtle hatch and make its way to the ocean on its own. It was slow. We took our time. But it was totally worth it.

If I had the energy to, I would’ve clapped and cheered at the end of it.

You can’t rush the progression of a person. It has to be done in their own time. You can push a person to change, but the only time the change will stick is when it’s something they want to achieve on their own.

When I woke this morning alone, it took me a while to get my suddenly-miserable ass out of bed. I made my way into the kitchen and saw a folded piece of paper taped onto the refrigerator door. Narrowing my eyes at the piece of paper, I looked left then right, making sure I wasn’t being watched, then plucked the paper from the door and opened it.

And what I saw lifted my mood from a Class A glum chum to a Class B rainbow fairy.

And rainbow fairies are pretty damn happy.

Well, if they’re not, they should be. They make rainbows for chrissakes!

Reading the note a second time, I leaned my hip on the kitchen counter and sighed.

Dinner. 6pm. Staying with me tonight. I’ll send a car. Dress nice.

Chuckling, I looked down at the command I’m given almost every time we’re together.

Dress nice.

I desperately needed to go shopping. Which is why I text Nikki, asking her to meet me for lunch.

Walking into my office, I stop in my track when I see Michael sitting behind my desk. Glaring at him, my fists ball by my sides and I grit my teeth. “You’d better have a good reason for skipping school, Mickey.”

He grins, “Pupil free-day.”

My steam evaporates and I stroll all the way into my office, “Well, that’s a pretty good reason, I’d say.” Winking at him, I walk all the way over to him and sigh. Twitch told me he’d been roughed up. He also told me he dealt with it. When I asked what had happened, he threw seriousness in my face and said in dead calm, “Don’t ask, don’t tell.”

That obviously made me feel about as relaxed as a person with a boil on their eye.

Taking Michael’s face in my hands, I look down at him with sad eyes. “Let me look at you, sweetie.”

His nose swollen and crooked, his lip cut at the left side, and his eye black but the swelling seeming to have gone, I decide to play it cool and not show just how much I’m freaking out over the fact that one of my kids was beaten. And beaten good.

Still cupping his cheek, I run a hand through his now short and neat do. “You okay?”

His eyes close at the feel of my fingers in his hair.

My chest pangs.

How long has it been since someone has shown Michael motherly affection?

My guess is a long stinking time.

Eyes closed, he mumbles, “I’m good. Nothing I haven’t been through before. I love my job.”

That makes me smile. A genuine smile.

Releasing him from my clutches, I cluck, “Good! No, great! How’s your new boss?”

Okay. I’m officially fishing for information. Can you blame me?

Michael dips his chin and smiles softly. “I don’t know where that guy came from, Miss Ballentine. But I’m grateful.” Looking up at me, his face turns serious. “The way he took care of what happened...” His eyes widen and he shakes his head. “Your boyfriend is seriously fucking scary.”

Rather than correct his assumption, I scowl at him. “Language.”

Looking into me with empty eyes, he utters distractedly, “Sorry. He was all cut, stab, and gouge, and I was just like what? And then he was all smiley again, like nothing happened, and I was seriously freaking out worrying.” His eyes meet mine, and Michael comes back from the trip delved deep into his mind. “But I think he likes me.” He smiles.

He looks so happy. But I’m still stuck on cut, stab, and gouge.

My blood runs cold.

Clearing my throat, I turn my back to him and ask in false cheer, “What are your plans today?”

I hear Michael stand. “Work. I should get going. Mr. T wouldn’t be happy if I was late.”

Pretending to fetch some books from the shelf at the side of the room, I call out, “Okay, Mickey. Be safe.”

The door closes behind him, and placing a hand to my heaving chest, I wonder how I’m going to get through dinner tonight.

Cancelling on Twitch is not an option.

Sitting in the back of the car, smoothing down my little black dress which doesn’t need smoothing, I hyperventilate a little more and think about how I bring up what Michael told me today.

Having decided I would wait until dinner is over, I do my best at placing a poker face on as the door to my side opens and the mature, greying driver holds a hand out to me. Placing my hand in his, I step out and come face-to-face with Twitch. His eyes crinkle in the corners, but then he loses his smile when he spots my dress and heels. His already hooded eyes hood a wee bit more, and he leans in, placing his lips at my cheek in a gesture of affection that takes me aback.

Breaking out into goosebumps, I shiver and close my eyes.

Twitch takes my small hand in his large tattooed one and leads me towards the front door of the quaint little Italian restaurant.

His choice of venue surprises me. This doesn’t look like something he would choose. He looks the type to choose fancy. Or expensive. And modern.

Not sweet, warm, and delicious.

We stand in line waiting to be seated when an older man comes towards us wearing a white shirt and a white chef’s hat, wiping his wet hands with a dish towel, and speaking rapid-fire Italian.

Twitch grins at the man before letting go of my hand and taking a step towards him. The older man kisses his cheeks, still talking up a storm. With his animated hand gestures and playful scowls, I can’t help but smile at him. He pinches Twitch’s cheek hard, shakes it a little, then let’s go, but not before slapping his cheek.

And the thought of someone treating him in such a way is a shock. So much of a shock that my eyes widen and I have to bite my lip hard to hold in my laughter.

When the man spots me, he does a double-take, and his enthusiastic speech halts. Smiling a sweet smile, he says, “Hello. I’m Joe.”

Holding out a hand to me, I take it and smile genuinely. “I’m Lexi. Nice to meet you, Joe.”

Twitch rolls his eyes at the man. “Just get us a table, old man. We’re hungry.”

Elbowing Twitch, he mutters, “I’ll give you old man.”

Escorting us to our table in the back corner, away from the other patrons, I look around and thank God for the privacy. I want tonight to be the night we finally talk about more than just business. I want to know more about him, but I have to do this in a sneaky way.

I have to make him answer questions without it seeming like I’m asking any.

Picking up my menu, Joe snatches it out of my hand with a heartbroken look. “No, lady. No. It’s your first night with us, so I get the honour of choosing what you’ll eat.” My heart sinks. What if he chooses something I don’t like? This could be disastrous. Spotting my anxious face, Joe smiles. “Don’t look at me like that. You’ll like it. I promise.”

Looking across the small table to Twitch, he rests his elbows on the table, linking his hands together just under his chin. He lifts his brows in a way that says, “Don’t bother arguing.”

So I don’t.

Putting on a bright smile, I tell Joe, “That’s fine by me. But I should let you know, I don’t love seafood.”

Already walking away, Joe calls out, “Noted!”

Twitch utters, “Already told him about the seafood. And peppers. And peas.”

My brow furrows in confusion only a moment before I remember Twitch has a habit of watching me.

I blurt out, “Do you still watch me?”

So much for sliding the questions in there. My mind slaps its forehead.

Picking up a bread stick, he leans back in his chair and stares at me. Taking a bite of the carby goodness, he nods once. So I ask more gently this time, “When was the last time you watched me?”

Swallowing his mouthful, he sits straighter in his chair. “Today. You and Nicole did some shopping.”

 I was not expecting that. Mumbling, “Okay,” I watch as he takes a packet of chocolate buttons from his pocket. Already open, he shoves a handful into his mouth and chews.

Distracted from my train of thought, I utter through a small smile, “I don’t get it? You don’t seem like the colorful chocolate buttons type.”

“Yeah, well, it’s better than going through a shitload of crack.”

That shuts me up. The smile falls off my face.

“I was an addict. I saw what it was doing to me and I quit. Cold turkey. Made Happy take me to the Kimberly’s in W.A., lock me in a cabin, and guard the door at gun point. I told him if I tried to leave, to shoot me.”

Happy? No way. I scoff, “That’s harsh. As if he would shoot you.”

Chewing another handful of chocolate, he barks a laugh. “Damn, girl. He emptied an entire clip around me, forcing me back in.” His smile fades, his face falls, and his eyes lose focus. “You have no idea what withdrawal is like. I swear I could’ve killed someone for a hit that first day. I spent three days puking, feeling as if I was dying, and clawing at my skin. I scratched at my whole body, opening wounds all over. It wasn’t pretty. I pulled a nail clean off just for the distraction. It was fucked. But it’s over.”

My mouth gapes. “Are you telling me you performed a DIY rehab on yourself?”

He nods solemnly.

I can’t believe it. Most of the kids I meet on the street are addicted to something or another, and it takes intense rehab, sometimes for months to get them out of the habit. Some even go back to using. So hearing that Twitch forced himself to rehabilitate…

Its remarkable. Truly remarkable.

I’m beyond impressed with his self-control.

 This is the most he’s ever told me, and while I’m on a roll, I ask on a whisper, “Why me?”

This question makes him uncomfortable. I know this from his sudden squirming, and for a moment, I wonder if I pushed too far, too early. That’s when he answers, “Because you’re you.”

He says this as if that should explain it all. But I’m not satisfied with that. I ask, “How long have you been watching me?”

Looking me in the eye, his stare intensifies, “A long time.”

Clearing his throat, he leans forward and says things I never expected to hear. “When you’re an addict, becoming addicted to things is easy to do. And that’s a bit what I’m like. I have an addictive personality. So I stopped drugs, but got hooked on candy. Then I started going to the gym once a week to work off the candy. But it became an obsession. I need to work out three times a day. Then with you…” His gaze softens. “I told myself I would watch you the one time…” He trails off. And although I don’t get it, I understand what he’s saying.

It should be making me sweat, not making my heart swell the way it is. “I’m an addiction?”

He responds quietly, “The worst one. There’s no cure for that addiction.”

I respond breathily, “Oh.”

Suddenly frowning, he states, “I’m not a good person.” Leaning away from me, he adds, “You think a person like me deserves your type of goodness? No. I’ll tell you right now that I don’t.” Seeming frustrated with himself, he bites his thumbnail. “The thing is, I’m selfish. And I don’t give a fuck about what I deserve. All I care about is what I want. And I want you so fuckin’ bad that I’d do almost anything to keep you.”

Alarm bells ring in my head, but my heart flaps its hands their way, shushing them.

Once again, “Oh.” So quiet, I barely hear myself.

My mouth opens, ready to ask another question, when I spot Joe leading two men our way, their arms full of plates of food. A bubble of laughter pops out of me, and Twitch turns to look their way. He smiles and shakes his head.

Joe has one waiter bring over another table for all our plates. Each time he places one down, he explains in detail what the dish is and which part of Italy it originated from. We have steak, pasta, gnocchi, soup, a cheese platter, and thinly sliced prosciutto.

It looks heavenly.

Leaving us to eat with nothing more than a wink, I don’t wait for Twitch as I dig in to the gnocchi with rosé sugo. I love gnocchi. I think gnocchi is seriously underrated. And this gnocchi is light and fluffy, like little cloud pillows that melt in my mouth. I believe my view needs to be vocalized. “Gnocchi is so delicious. I think it’s one of the most underrated foods. People should know how delicious gnocchi is.”

Twitch chews on his forkful of pasta and garbles, “I think you just like saying gnocchi.”

With an almost regal nod, I confirm his suspicion with a quiet, “That too.”

We talk a little more, much to my delight, and I find out that Twitch was a runaway who ended up in juvie for four years until his sixteenth birthday. I’d love to say this is an unlikely story, but working my job, I see it all the time.

“What were you in juvie for?” I ask, nibbling on some provolone cheese.

“Assault and battery.”

“That’s a long time for a child to go to juvie for assault.”

That’s when he adds vaguely, “Assault and battery of a police officer.”

My lips purse. Yeah. That’d do it.

Rolling up a slice of prosciutto, I fiddle with it longer than I should. “And the tattoos?”

He shrugs. “I got my first one at juvenile hall when I was fourteen. Then it became an addiction.” He wiggles his brows at the word addiction. “We didn’t have the right tools to make em look any good though. We used pins and pen ink. More often than not, they got infected.” He laughs, “A lot of the basic tattoos I had covered with new ones, but I still have some that mean something to me. They’re important. I keep ‘em to make sure I don’t forget.”