Chapter 47 – thiago
Forty-Seven
thiago
The soft melody of a familiar song filters into my room, gently drawing me from sleep.
I open my eyes to an empty bed, and panic hits me immediately. She’s gone. She woke up, regretted everything that happened between us, and took back every word she said.
Then the chorus drifts through the apartment, and I recognize it.
Of course.
Tension leaves my body, and I push myself upright and listen. The music is accompanied by the clatter of pans, the opening and closing of cabinet doors, and the unmistakable sound of someone singing with far more confidence than skill.
Remi.
I sit there listening to her, relieved. She’s still here. My flame is still here.
Running a hand through my hair, I pull on my boxer briefs.
As much as I want to go straight to her, I force myself to stop at the bathroom first. I take care of business, brush my teeth, and splash cold water on my face.
Only then do I head for the kitchen, where the sight waiting for me stops me in my tracks.
Remi is barefoot, wearing one of my T-shirts and nothing else.
Her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy knot, and she sways her hips to the music as she cooks.
I lean against the doorway and watch her.
God, she’s everything.
The thought of waking up to her like this every morning sends my mind racing toward a future I have no business imagining. Without missing a beat, Remi keeps singing, using an egg-coated fork as a microphone while Selena’s “Amor Prohibido” plays in the background.
How tragically appropriate.
She flashes me one of her blinding smiles and crooks a finger, beckoning me toward her.
I happily oblige my girl.
Calling her that feels far too natural for something that became official less than twelve hours ago.
I take her hand and spin her gently. She throws her free arm into the air, giving me an eyeful of ass courtesy of my T-shirt.
I laugh as she stumbles into my chest, nearly dropping the fork when she starts laughing too.
“I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed your record player.”
I kiss the tip of her nose. “Not at all.”
She closes her eyes and smiles. “And I made you breakfast. Huevos rancheros.”
“Smells delicious.”
“It had better be. Estela taught me, and she was very particular about the salsa.”
I grip her waist and lift her onto the kitchen island. “When I woke up and you weren’t there, I thought you’d left. That maybe you’d woken up and regretted last night.”
My thumb traces the curve of her cheek. I’m not used to admitting things like this, but I’ve spent weeks hiding how much she affects me, and I’m tired of pretending.
Remi’s expression softens. “Hey,” she says, reaching for my hand. “I’m here.”
The pressure in my chest finally eases.
“You told me to stay, and I stayed. But not for you. I stayed for me because I wanted to.”
I lean in and kiss her, savoring the lingering sweetness on her lips. She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me closer and pressing me between her legs.
“I also used your body wash.”
“I can tell,” I say with a chuckle, brushing my nose against hers. “You smell like me.”
“Is that a problem?”
“No. But I love the way you smell better.” I look at her sitting on my kitchen island in my shirt, barefoot and completely at ease in a space that has only ever belonged to me. “You should leave some things here.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Things?”
“Whatever you need when you stay over. Clothes, a toothbrush, your own body wash.”
Remi laughs. “Braga, we’ve officially been whatever the hell this is for less than twelve hours, and you’re already offering me drawer space?”
“I’m efficient.”
“You’re insane.”
“You established last night that you like crazy.”
She narrows her eyes. “Using my own words against me already?”
“Absolutely.”
Her smile lingers, but her fingers start playing with the hem of my shirt.
“I mean it, chama. I’m not asking you to move in. I just want you to have what you need when you’re here.”
The word “when” comes naturally because I already know I want there to be a next time and another after that.
“How about I think about it, yeah?”
“Take all the time you need. In the meantime…” I kiss her and slide my hands behind her knees, bringing her to the edge of the island. “I’m hungry.”
There’s no going back from here. I don’t know how the hell I’m going to make this right, but I will. Whatever happens when she learns the truth, I won’t let anyone hurt her because of me.
I breathe her in and hold her against me. Remi is mine. And realizing how far I’d go to protect her scares the shit out of me.
“I hope you like it.”
I kiss her harder, my hand sweeping up her thigh as I push my shirt higher.
“I already know I’m going to love it.” My fingers hook the collar, and with one sharp pull, I tear the thin T-shirt straight down the middle.
Remi’s eyes widen. “Well,” she says, glancing down at the ruined fabric. “That’s certainly one way to do it.”
I laugh and cup her breast, brushing my tongue over her nipple. “You sound surprised.”
“At this point, I’m surprised when you use your hands like a normal person. I’m starting to think you just like ripping shit.”
“Only when you’re wearing it.”
“Mmm.” She smiles. “Well, I’m not about to discourage you.”
I start to lower my mouth to her again, but she plants a hand against my chest and nods toward the plate beside her.
“You know breakfast is getting cold, right?”
I glance over at it. “Sorry, I’m distracted. But don’t worry.” Burying my face in her neck, I slip my hand higher on her thigh. “I very much plan to fucking eat.”
Remi laughs and pushes at my shoulder until I finally lift my head.
“Food first. I sacrificed precious sleep after you spent half the night fucking me into a support beam, just to make you this.”
My dick twitches at the reminder, and I squeeze her thigh. “Worth every fucking minute.”
“Agreed.” She reaches for the fork, cuts off a piece of tortilla and egg, then holds it toward my mouth. “But you’re going to try this and love it because I made it, and it’s delicious.”
I laugh as I open my mouth to take a bite, chewing while she watches me expectantly. We’ve played this game before. She doesn’t need my approval. She needs to know whether I have good taste, which apparently means liking all the same things she does.
“Well? What do you think?”
“Your ego is about to become unbearable.”
Her smile turns smug. “That good?”
“Unfortunately.”
“I knew it.” She looks far too pleased with herself as she cuts off a second bite, but I catch her wrist and turn the fork toward her.
“You cooked. You eat.”
Remi eyes me before opening her mouth to let me feed her. A little crema clings to the corner of her lip, and I swipe it away with my thumb. Her gaze drops to my hand before she closes her lips around it, her tongue dragging over the pad.
She slowly pulls it from her mouth, watching me the whole time, then reaches for the plate. Dipping a finger into the crema, she draws a cool white streak down the center of my chest.
“Now you have to use that pretty mouth and clean me up.” I guide her closer as she licks the mess she made. “Something tells me those eggs are never getting eaten.”
“I can make more.”
The way she says it, like making me breakfast again is already a given, hits me almost as hard as her tongue.
I reach for the bowl of crema.
“My turn.”
I draw a cool line from the base of her throat across her collarbone, letting my finger wander lower as her lips part. Her eyes stay on me as I lick her skin. She shifts closer to the edge of the island, her legs tightening around my hips as I follow the trail down.
I work my way back up, stopping at her breast to flick the barbell with the top of my tongue. She squirms against me.
“Still worried about breakfast getting cold?”
A quick shake of her head is my answer before she reaches for me.
“Good.”
I take another taste, letting my mouth linger until her fingers tighten in my hair, then slide my hands beneath her thighs and lift her from the counter. Remi lets out a startled laugh when I toss her over my shoulder and carry her toward the dining room.
“Where are we going?”
I bring my palm down across her ass.
“Thiago!”
She breaks into another fit of laughter as I soothe the sting with my palm, then press a kiss to the spot.
“I need the table. I told you I was going to eat.”
Keeping one arm hooked securely around, I sweep the placemats and centerpiece aside with the other. They hit the floor in a heap.
Remi lifts her head enough to look at the mess. “Seriously?”
“Very.” I lower her onto the edge of the table and step between her legs. “Turn around. Hands and knees, fera.”
She does what she’s told. And I give her ass another sharp slap.
“Look at you. Dripping and spread open on my fucking table.”
Her fingers dig into the wood as her hips ease back toward me.
“Who says we can’t have a little dessert before breakfast?”
I drag my knuckles over her clit, and her breath leaves her in a rush.
“Fuck, chama.” I lean over her and brush my mouth along her shoulder. “After everything we did last night, I’m wondering if I can still taste both of us on you.”
She rocks back. “Only one way to find out.”
I smile against her skin. “Exactly what I was thinking.” Trailing my mouth down her back, I lower myself behind her. “Stay right there.” My hands slide down the backs of her thighs as I settle between them. “Fuck, fera. You have no idea how fucking beautiful you are like this.”
“Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to stare?” she says, glancing over her shoulder.
I grin and nudge her legs farther apart. “You think I’m going to hurry when you’re spread out like this for me?”
“I think you’re talking too much.”
I press my mouth to the inside of her thigh.
“Thiago.” There’s enough impatience in my name that I stop fucking around and haul her closer.
“Touch yourself.”
Her shoulders tense before her hand slips between her thighs.
“You heard me, fera. I want you to feel how badly you want this.”
I watch her face as she moves over herself.
“Fuck,” she breathes.
“Feel that?”