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“I have to go. I'll be back in a few hours.”
I get up from the bed but she jumps on my back like a spider monkey. “I believe you owe me a truth, Ricky.”
It mildly a
However, I'm finding that I don't mind it so much anymore.
She's right about me owing her 'a truth'. She's been shelling them out left and right and she deserves a few of mine but I don't want to give them to her now.
I tilt my head to look at her. “Can I give you an 'I owe you?', I really have to leave.”
She purses her lips and shakes her head. “Nope. You want me to let you in? Well, that goes both ways.”
She plants a soft kiss on my shoulder and I curse under my breath when my dick twitches and my heart jumps.
She traces the outline of the scripture from the tattoo on my back. “I've never seen this one before.”
“It's from the Green Mile, by Stephen King.” I reluctantly plop back down on the bed. She hops off my back and climbs onto my lap instead. I bite my lip and suppress a groan because having her in my lap right now isn't such a good thing.
It makes me want to find another way to escape, especially since she's insistent that I don't leave.
She's off limits; forbidden fruit, I remind myself. Although every second that passes between us makes it harder and harder for that to sink in.
She looks up at me and searches my eyes. “I didn't know you liked to read.”
“I used to like to read,” I correct her. “See? There's a truth for you.”
“Tell me more.”
I grab her hips and shift us so I'm sitting against the headboard. “What do you want to know?”
Her eyes never leave mine. “I want to know what your nightmare was about.”
Yeah, should have seen that coming from a mile away.
“It wasn't a nightmare exactly. It was a flashback, sort of. It starts off with a flashback that twists itself into a nightmare and then ends with another flashback...if that makes any sense.”
Her head falls against my chest and she wraps her arms around me. Then she begins drawing little circles up and down my arms in a soothing ma
I suck in air and I know my heart's pounding like a jackhammer.
I'm torn because I don't hate the feeling. I'm just not used to anyone touching me like this.
My mother had her nice moments...when she was sober. Moments where she acted like I was her son. Moments where I believed she really cared.
But the one thing my mother never did was hug me, or show me any kind of affection. Usually, she was too strung out and ripping into me about hating me so much because of who I am.
Which of course, she was more than justified for.
And as far as DeLuca goes. The only kind of contact we've ever had was a few fist's to the face.
The bottom line is that I've always been a lone-wolf.
Most people belong to packs, usually their family or circle of friends.
It gives them a sense of belonging and in turn, it teaches them how to build human basic co
But me?
I've never belonged anywhere.
How could I?
My conception didn't result from a basic human co
I'm the epitome of an abomination.
I never once felt like part of a pack, like I ever belonged.
At least, I didn't until Tyrone, Jackson and Momma came along.
They're the closest thing I have to a family and if they find out the truth...I'll lose them.
I've never felt included or wanted before them...and I think it's why on some level, I understand what Lou-Lou means when she says that she loves DeLuca, even if it makes her a monster.
I'll never love DeLuca...but try as I might, I can't deny there's a small part of me that wants him to accept me and wants him to love me.
Because no one else ever has before.
Lou-Lou squeezes me tighter and plants another kiss on my shoulder. “Tell me what happened, Ricardo. I won't judge you.”
I swallow down the lump forming in my throat before I tell her something I've never told anyone else.
I tell her about Graham and the little girl in my nightmares.