Her happiness matters to me, but I’ve decided it’s just because we’re friends. That’s all it is.
“You need to stop being so damn close to perfect, Romana,” she warns, but the smiles remain on our faces.
My hands drop from her neck to her shoulders, squeezing a little because I really can’t help myself. I love touching her. It’s like a guilty pleasure I can’t get enough of, that I don’t want to get enough of.
“I have more than enough flaws, Fuchs,” I assure her, watching her grin at the way I pronounce her last name perfectly. “You know, I looked up your last name and found out it means ‘fox’ in English. I read that foxes are quite playful,” I state, and she cocks a brow.
Her hands drop from my body, but I wrap my fingers around her wrists to lift them. I inspect her nails for a moment.
“They can also retract their claws and extend them at will. That sounds like something you do, too,” I tease with a smirk. Nevaeh returns it, but as I take a step closer, and bring my mouth toward hers, her breathing hitches. “I’m your prey, aren’t I?” I ask, making her let out a shaky laugh.
She clears her throat, looking away from me as she fights another laugh.
“If you were, my claws would have already left marks on your back,” she says with a wink, stepping back and breaking the contact between us.
I shake my head, letting it fall backward to look at the ceiling. I question whoever is up there why they brought Nevaeh Fuchs into my life if I’m not allowed to let her mark me as much as she would like.
“You’re a tease,mon ange, and I told you how I feel about getting teased,” I reply, grabbing her luggage and making my way to the parking lot.
If we don’t put some distance between us, I might throw all of my rules out of the fucking window.
All this is between us is a flirty exchange, something I used to have with lots of other women, but there is something so special about Nevaeh for me, it doesn’t feel the same. It feels like it means more, like I’m flirting with someone I want more than one night with, and that’s fucking terrifying.
She just… she brightens up my life.
She makes me feelso much, all at once, and I don’t ever want to let go of that.
“Why ‘angel’ out of all the things to call me?” she asks as we sit down in my Velocità Rossa.
I chose the Velocità Rossa 93 Web recently when I was looking for a new car. My grandfather has a whole collection, but I didn’t take any of them with me when I moved out and into Gabriel’s old apartment.
So, I went and bought myself this one instead. It’s a matte black with a single orange stripe running over the hood of it.
Nevaeh’s fingers trail over the smooth interior, tracing the door handle while she studies the car with an expression of awe. Over the last few months of us spending a lot of time together, I’ve come to realize just how expressive her face is. Whether she likes it or not, her features give everything away. If something displeases her, she wrinkles her nose. If something excites her, she grins with her whole face. If something fascinates her, her eyes sparkle with awe and curiosity.
If she’s happy, her features start shining brighter than any star in the sky.
“Oof, I’m afraid that’s my secret to keep,” I reply, smiling at her one last time before putting the car into Drive.
Her head falls back against the headrest as she watches me maneuver out of the parking garage, so I do it a little more smoothly, more effortlessly.
We might be just friends, but I still want to impress her.
“You’re boring,” she complains when I don’t give her an answer that satisfies her.
She’s as beautiful as I imagine angels to be, so I call her“mon ange.”
She feels like heaven to me, so I call her“mon paradis.”
We drive for a while as she stares out of her window, taking in the road that leads to her new home country. Once we’re in Monaco, she sits up a little straighter, studying everything. The buildings I’ve been around my entire life. The luxurious sight of it is simultaneously antique. Monaco is expensive, without a doubt, and it doesn’t just look that way through all the rich people driving Lamborghinis, Velocità Rossas, Maseratis, and every other luxury brand you can think of.
It alsofeelsthat way.
“Are you okay?” I ask when I notice the corners of her mouth are downturned. Man, why is she still so beautiful when she’s frowning?
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” She turns her head to look at me.
“I don’t know, you just look serious,” I say, poking her cheek and making her chuckle.
