CHAPTER THIRTY
Standing before me is a wall of fat and muscle, with lots of dark hair all across his chest. It trails down his stomach, past his belly button and into his pajama pants.
I don’t even realize I’m staring until he’s standing right in front of me, looking down at me sweetly as if I’m not unabashedly eye-fucking him.
I scoot back, letting him sit on the edge of the bed.
He hands me the towel expectantly, and I waste no time drying Toro off.
He’s not nearly as soaked as he was earlier, but he did a pretty half-assed job at drying himself off.
I suspect that was on purpose though, since he mumbles something happily when I drag the towel across his back.
“Is there a reason you didn’t bring a jacket? Or you just didn’t think about it?” I ask, since the man has a whole bunch of jackets hung up in the closet he could’ve easily grabbed.
“Didn’t think…” His fingers sink into the mattress. “Was… fast.”
With a thoughtful hum I finish drying him off before setting the towel aside. Toro takes that as an invitation to sprawl out on top of me, head falling into my lap. His hair is damp and messy, dark curls hastily brushed to the side.
“Hi,” my voice is quiet while I beam at him. “Feel better?”
“Feel better.”
Losing control, I hunch over to leave a quick peck on the corner of his mouth.
I adore how his nose crinkles every time I kiss him.
He gives me an open-mouthed smile, eyes sparkling in the warm light of his room.
Toro’s hand finds the side of my face, pulling it down so he can kiss me how he likes: by trying to suffocate me with his tongue.
The angle is too awkward for it to last as long as I want it to, which is why I don’t put up a fight when Toro lovingly manhandles me and pulls me onto him properly. We fit together as if we were made for one another, his grip on my waist firm but soft at the same time.
“Mine,” he mumbles.
Despite the fact that I fell in love with a previously cannibalistic murderer, I’m not stupid.
I’m not. I know I shouldn’t entertain such possessive notions, but I won’t pretend it doesn’t make my heart flutter for him to claim me so adamantly.
It always rolls off his tongue so naturally, like he means it and that’s final.
Maybe I am stupid.
“Yours.” Yep. Very stupid. “I’m really proud of you, Toro.”
His brow furrows. “Proud?”
“You’ve really become such a good person.” The words come easy, easier than I thought they would. “You only eat normal meat, you don’t hurt people… I’m really proud.”
He stares at me, and I feel like maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. “Sorry. It’s stupid.”
Ever since we had burgers he eats the same way I do. When Alma cooks bad meat he only eats potatoes and whatever vegetable was made. He didn’t make a big deal about doing it, either. He just smiles and makes sure to kiss me more often those days.
“No,” he grabs my face with both hands, “not stupid.”
I’m blushing now, trying my best to avoid his gaze despite the fact he’s literally holding me in place.
It reminds me of the first time we kissed, minus him trying to suffocate me with love.
It feels so much more tender now, eyes wide open and staring at me like I’ll disappear into thin air if he lets go.
“Love you,” he grunts, before pulling me into his chest. He’s so warm and fuzzy I just let myself cuddle him, letting my mind go quiet for the briefest moment.
“I love you too.”
His hands begin exploring, curiously trailing from my sides to my thighs.
His touch is curious, at least until he suddenly grabs two handfuls of my flesh.
I yelp, smacking his bare chest and jerking away from him.
Toro has a smug smile on his face when I roll off of him, huffing and turning away to rest on my side instead.
“Not nice,” I chide. “Not nice at all, Toro.”
“Mad?” Even without seeing him I know his smile was wiped clean off his face. I can’t turn away from him for even a second without his arms snaking around my waist, his chin jutting against my shoulder. “Nico, mad?”
God, I’m so fucking weak when it comes to him.
“No, not mad. But it’s late, and you should really be sleeping.” I roll back over, smiling a little at him. “No groping me, either.”
“Grop…ing.” He repeats the word like he’s trying it out for the first time.
My eyes narrow at him. “No. Bad.”
“Bad?”
“...It’s not bad,” I concede a little. “But I’m… it’s new.”
Toro squints, clearly not understanding. His expression is apologetic now, quickly kissing my forehead as though it’s some sort of quick fix. “Don’t like? Groping?”
“No! It’s… complicated. It’s complicated, Toro.”
“Want to.” His voice is quiet now, tentatively pressing closer. “...Touch.”
I know that we’re dating, and it’s normal to touch each other.
I just thought maybe he wouldn’t really care about that kind of stuff.
Usually I hate the thought of being intimate with anyone, but with Toro maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.
He always seems to know which buttons to hit and just what to do, despite being so clumsy and inexperienced.
“You want to…?”
The pillowcase rustles when he nods, face so sleepy and kissable. His eyes shut, and he pulls me as close as he can. “Yeah…”
Toro slots his knee between my legs, and the conversation must be over since he’s actively falling asleep. I yawn, more tired than I realized. I nestle against him, more than ready to get some rest.
When I wake up the sun is peering in through the cracks of Toro’s curtains as if it wasn’t absolutely coming down last night.
We seem to have separated in our sleep, which he immediately rectifies by wrapping a firm arm around me.
His body is pressed up against mine, a hoarse whine following the motion.
“What?” I ask yawning, barely even awake. Of course Toro doesn’t reply, just letting out another whine and somehow bringing my waist even closer to his. He’s always clingy, but not this clingy. “What’s wrong, Toro?”
My hands move to his chest, pushing myself away to get a better view of him. His face is a little flushed, his hair damp with sweat, and when I bring my palm to his forehead it’s hot. Not Texas hot, but feverishly hot