Yara |18+|

33

YARA

"I'm full," I breathed and ran my hand over my stomach, slouching in my chair.

My dress was suddenly tighter, and I grinned when Vico grinned at me too. He was opposite me, his elbow on the table and his chin resting in his palm. The smile on his face spread over his lips and had his dimples denting into his cheek, a little glimmer in his eye.

I like the way he looks at me.

It was one thing to be sweet talked, but to be looked at with such adoration and awe—it was almost too much to take.

"I hope so," he said, his pretty brown eyes never leaving me. We had officially gone on a date. A successful one. In this restaurant, we were the only two underneath the dim light.

It was beautiful, serene and the perfect ending to a long day. The best part of it all was my company. A man whose eyes smiled whenever he looked at me. And a man who let me talk my heart while he sat and listened attentively.

I was never much of a talker, or a conversationalist—but the way he paid me the world's greatest attention had me wishing I never ran out of things to say.

"Dessert?" Vico offered, and it was hard not to smile at the eagerness he emitted. But it was way too soon. I'd eaten way more than I thought I could handle and we had just finished.

I glanced around the luxurious and Spanish colonial style restaurant, the staff nowhere to be seen. It was good to have privacy, although it almost felt a bit as if we were treading into dangerous waters being alone.

"Thank you, but you're going to have to give me a minute," I said, our fingertips meeting in the middle of the glossed wooden table.

It was big enough for our plates, but small enough for our hands to meet with ease. I liked playing with Vico's hands. His inked, bruised and big hands. I liked tracing his veins. And I liked that he let me have it all to myself while I talked his head off.

He seems to enjoy it as just as much as I was. If not more.

"Just let me know when you're ready," he murmured, lifting the both of our hands to lean closer and lay a gentle kiss on my knuckles.

Gentle.

In the bedroom, he strayed far from being gentle. But in intimate moments—like sitting in the middle of a romantic setting that he had planned—he was as soft as a cloud.

He was almost too perfect.

"When do I start?" I asked, my gaze running over the tattoo on the side of his neck. It peeked out of the collar of his shirt. His jacket hung over his chair, but his tie was on and I had rolled up his sleeves. Running my fingers over the rim of his watch, my eyes met his once again.

"Whenever you want to," he said, and I could see that he meant it. "Tomorrow. In the next year."

"In the next year?" I repeated, a small chuckle slipping out of me.

Vico shrugged, "Like I said, whenever you want to, hermosa."

The thought of working with Vico didn't scare me. It was the potential fuck ups I might bring into his life. Or what if we had a falling out and I ended up with nothing but an enemy? Having Vico as an arch nemesis was almost funny, but that didn't mean I wanted that.

It could, quite possibly, be the end of me.

"There's nothing I need to do?" I asked, curious.

I couldn't help but wonder how it was so easy for him to let me in.