He shook my hand and honestly…I’m pretty sure I just made the infamous ‘Deal with the Devil’. He dragged the back of my hand to his lips, and his lip ring was cold as he pressed a kiss to it, letting it go and smiling at me like the fucking serpent in Eden.
“Should I strip down and leave now? Want me to walk backwards?”
“Honestly, I’d love to push you out of this coffin and watch you hit the floor, but it’s too early for this shit and I didn’t plan to leave my bed until at least ten. So…you know the way out.”
I pulled my blanket around myself and climbed out, making my way back to my bedroom. “Want me to read you a bedtime story first?” He leaned over, grabbing my book off the table and I just about shrieked. “How ‘bout this one? That page you marked was awfully interesting.”
Face beet red, and dignity crashing out, I turned around and slammed my bedroom door, relishing in his whine when I turned the lock.
I shouldn’t have said a word about him finding out how well he’d fit in that coffin. When I’d decided that I was gonna force myself to get up and pee, it was well after noon, and the apartment was so quiet that I thought he’d taken the hint and left.
He didn’t.
I stepped into the living room to find Malek stretched out, one arm behind his head, the other draped across his inked body—holding my smut face down on top of his hard stomach. He didn’t fit in this coffin at all. Not physically. He fit in a way that made no sense to me. He’s fitting into my dark, weird existence. I could fight this like a feral city cat, but I have this gut feeling it’s not gonna do a damn bit of good. Something about him is constantly pulling me in, and when I have to see himfucking sleep with the innocence of a newborn…it really doesn’t help fuel the fight in me.
But…I think I might have something that could fix this little issue.
I smiled devilishly and tiptoed around the corner to my kitchen, taking the two biggest pans off the rack that hung over the kitchen island. Revenge is so fucking sweet. I had to bite a hole through my lip to keep from bursting out laughing as I inched closer to the coffin. One last look at the little sleeping prince and I went for it, slamming the pots together repeatedly and giving my best screamo rendition of“Baby One More Time”.
I have to admit…Malek’s wailing could have been epic for my backup singer. He looked like I’d scared him enough to make him blow chunks all over my coffin—right before he flipped over the lip, sending my book flying and hitting the floor hard enough for a decent bass additive to my little ditty. I was doubled over in snorts and almost painful laughter while he laid on the floor, both hands covering his face and peeking at me through his fingers. I couldn’t breathe.
“Sílim gur chuir mé cac orm féin…”
Whatever that means.
I can’t get a word out to ask. I laughed myself back to the kitchen to hang the pots back up and heard him chuckle under his breath from the floor behind me. “Okay, so I deserve that.Shite.”
“You do. And then some. To think that you could have woke up in the quiet of yourownhouse…”
“See, I planned to…but I was curious about this wee book. You almost had me believin’ you thought I was a psycho. Here, I find out maybe I don’t need a doctor at all…just a few energy shots and a girl that likes graveyards.”
I went to the fridge and started pulling out this and that, glancing at him while he made no attempt to get up from the floor. “Keep telling yourself that.”
“Do lassies really like this shit, or is this all just entertainment?”
I set a container of chicken salad on the island and pulled out two beers. “Guess you’ll never know. Should I even ask if you’re on your way out?”
“Not if you’re gonna flash a beer in front of an Irishman. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were startin’ to love me, Little Viper.” And cue, the shit-eating grin…with the dimple.
I yanked two forks out of the drawer and gestured to the bar chairs across the island. “Sit. Since you refuse to let me have a moment’s peace, I suppose we need to make good use of the time.”
“That’s hurtful. And you didn’t answer my question.”
“You didn’t ask one.Sit.”
He got up and the deep vee that disappeared into the waist of his jeans was distracting enough that I momentarily lost my train of thought. “Yes ma’am.” When he finally sat, I was grateful to at least have the lower half of him obscured from my line of sight, but the rest of him was still making this chicken salad a second-best option for lunch. “You make that?”
“No,” I said, scooting the container to rest between us and handing him one of the forks. “The other love of your life. Desiree has chicken salad on Tuesdays. You should feel special. I don’t even share this with Greg.” Malek glanced up with a worried look.
“Who the hell isGreg?”
I took a bite and grinned while I chewed. I wanted to make a smart comment, but I wasn’t about to do it when talking about my brother. Gross. “Greg is my only sibling. I thought you knew everything there was to know about me.”
He forked out a bit of the salad, sniffing it before nibbling off the end. I tried not to let on that it was kind of adorable when his eyes lit up and he started digging into it like a starving animal. “I’ll be honest, lass. Your family wasn’t really my centered interest. It’s always been you.” It made me feel better, knowing that, but at the same time…heisin the mob.
I popped open my beer and raised it to my mouth, and Malek’s fork came to a screeching halt halfway to his chin. It seems like anything Idois his ‘centered interest’, and I’m having a hard time not being turned on by it. “So, tell me about your sister. When are you planning on doing all this, and is this gonna be one of those things where we have to burn down the entire establishment? Or are you just gonna hack ‘em one by one?”
He grinned. “I didn’t realize that was an option.” My bottle hovered near my lip, and he stared intently, waiting for…God only knows what. “First swallow’s always the sweetest.”
