Page 38 of King of Hollywood
The awful squeak of Barry’s flip-flops echoed through the otherwise peaceful night as he made his way back down the street, past the park, past the picture perfect houses, toward his evil lair at the end of the block.
I only watched him until he was out of ear shot, and then I turned on Felix, my hands finding his hips. Rubbing at the cashmere—even softer than it’d looked—I ducked my head low.
“My hero,” I murmured, breath curling against the shell of Felix’s ear. It ruffled his hair and I noted—with surprise—that he’d already bleached away the hint of roots I’d seen the night before.
“I ruined our date,” Felix hummed back. We were pressed close enough together that I felt him shiver against me.
God, I wanted to make him do that again.
“You didn’t,” I promised, hands slipping further back of their own accord. They didn’t even feel like my own hands. Especially when they greedily—shyly slid beneath the hem of his sweater to tease at his skin. Even here, it was chilly—chilly as the night air. “I promised we could stay in.”
“I know,” Felix responded, head tipping back as he looked at me. “But I can do this…for you.” He sucked in a breath. “I want to do this for you.
“You do?”
“I do.”
Now that Barry was gone, I had no qualms left. Not about this.
So I did the thing I’d been aching to do since the first night Felix had come to me for help.
I tore his hat off his head.
Then I threw it as far away from us as possible.
It fluttered to the ground at the other end of my driveway—traveling surprisingly far—but not far enough. It would never be far enough. “How many of these fucking things do you have?” I asked, horrified.
Felix was shaking. For a moment, I worried I’d offended him to tears. But when my gaze snapped to his face, my eyes wide with worry—I was assaulted with the prettiest fucking sight I’d ever, in all my life, seen.
Felix was grinning. Not a small, happy smile. Not shy. Not polite. Not contained. No. It was wide—and brilliant—brighter than a supernova. His eyes crinkled, his nose scrunched. Dimples lined the sides of that lovely, expressive mouth—and I was…oh.
Oh, my knees were weak.
I leaned hard against my car, letting it take my weight because I was certain if I’d been standing on my own, I’d be on the ground already.
Felix was…so much more than I’d expected.
An accidental killer, a cat wrangler, a crocheting maniac.
A prince. A hero. A man who never wanted others to feel lonely, despite being alone himself.
I’d never contemplated Heaven. Even if it existed—I knew I’d never make it there.
But now I realized that if Heaven was real—
It looked like Felix’s smile.
It sounded like his laughter.
And it smelled like lemon soap.
Chapter nine
“Marshall…” My boss’s voice was an unwelcome distraction. Annoyed, I pulled my headphones off, twisting to offer him what I hoped was a simpering grin—and not the glare I wanted to level him with. “Are you watching…” he read the caption of the video on my computer, his brow furrowed in confusion, “ten hours straight of cat sounds?”
“Yes.” I stared at him, hands still on my headphones.
“Can I ask…why?”
