Page 32 of Apple of His Eye
He looks down at me with a smile, and I see his response. I feel it when he leans forward and presses a tender kiss to my forehead.
“You better get ready, wildcat, because I haven’t had my fill of you yet.”
TWELVE
EVERLEIGH
Much to our dismay, Kohen was called out this morning for a Club emergency. My heart beat a little faster now, worrying about the danger, but I had to trust him and the other Dirty Jackals. They know what they are doing.
I’ve spent the day floating on cloud nine and remembering every moment together with each bend and stretch of my body. It was everything I dreamed it could be, but so much more.
He made me feel things I never thought possible, and he pushed my body—my pleasure to every limit I thought I had, and beyond. He taught me what it meant to want, to need, to love.
It didn’t bother me when he didn’t say the words back, because I could see what he felt for me. I could feel it as he took me over and over. He poured everything he had into our night together.
“Girl, get your head on straight before you burn my sauce,” Millie chuckles, the same way she’s been chuckling since Kohen, and I came downstairs hand in hand.
“Yes, ma’am,” I smile and stir the giant sauce pot.
When Millie told me what she was making for dinner tonight, homemade spaghetti, I didn’t hesitate to offer my help. I always wanted to learn how to make sauce.
“I’m going to switch over the laundry. I’ll be right back,” Millie tells me from over her shoulder.
I sigh, letting myself get lost in the memories and feelings from just hours ago. He asked me not to shower him off yet before kissing me goodbye, and I happily obliged that request. I enjoyed smelling him on me. It only made my day brighter.
“There you are,” Maria enters the kitchen with a smile, almost squashing my cheerful spirit. She’s wearing low-cut jeans and a bright pink tube top. Her dark hair is teased into a mass of curls and her lips are painted a shade of pink that matches her top. She is wearing a pair of espadrilles to finish the look. Frankly, she looks cheap, like a woman who’s trying too hard. A woman who knows she might be on her way out. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“You have?” I ask, setting the ladle I was holding down, before I get the idea to slap her across the face and beat her senseless with it. I place a hand on one hip and lean on the counter. “Why is that?”
“I want to apologize about yesterday afternoon,” she offers, but I say nothing, and wait, watching her squirm with my lack of response. I’ve no doubt someone told her about Kohen and me, and how we were found in his bed—knocked out after round three. I know we were loud, too. “I shouldn’t have said what I did.”
“You mean, when you implied you and Kohen were a thing?”
“I was only kidding,” she shrugs, like it wasn’t a big deal. Like I should have known she didn’t mean anything by it, but we both know that wasn’t true. She wanted me to doubt what was between Kohen and I. She wanted me to believe her lies. Now she’s in damage control mode.
“Sure,” I reply, also with a shrug. But there’s something about the way she looks at me, like she has me all figured out. She has no fucking clue, so I play into it a little, trying to figure out her angle. “I believe you.”
“No, you don’t, and you shouldn’t.” She twists a finger into her hair, looking at me pointedly. Okay, so she’s got me there, but she’s been at this game a lot longer than I have. “Look, I know the girls filled you in about me and I don’t have the greatest track record with them.”
“Track record?” I scoff, letting her see how ridiculous I think she is. Mimi and Yaya are amazing women. They are my friends and have been since the moment we met. They’re the ones who warned me not to believe Maria in the first place, but the bitch played right into my inexperience. “Come on, Maria, be serious.”
“Fine. They hate me. I hate them. Blah, blah, blah.” She pops a hip out and crosses her free arm under her breasts.
“What do you want, Maria?” I ignore the way she pushes her breasts higher, as if she’s offering me something other than friendship. Instead, I focus on dipping the ladle into the sauce and stir it, waiting for whatever sob story she plans on trying to feed me next.
“I fucked up, Snow,” she half-whines, half begs. Maria doesn’t seem like the type of friend I’d ever want, but then again, she doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who would beg for another chance, either. Maybe I’m wrong about this. Maybe she really wants to be different. “Please, can we start over andtryto be friends?”
“You want to me my friend?” I ask skeptically.
“Is it that hard to believe?”
“You’re not exactly the friend type,” I level, watching the way my honesty strikes her. If I wasn’t standing there watching her reaction, I wouldn’t of believed it, but the woman actually flinched.
Damn, maybe I have her pegged wrong after all.
Maybe we all do.
“It’s not like I asked for this… to be like this,” she murmurs, dipping her gaze from mine. “It’s more of a defense mechanism. I push them away before they can hurt me.”