Daring to Fall |18+|

09 | stay the night

NOVA

Ramiro wanted to feed me—but not in that way.

I held back a smirk, watching as the half-naked man fix a plate for me in my kitchen. He wanted to. No, he demanded that I sit down on my ass while I put him to work.

I had mentioned how hungry I was and he couldn't wait to get behind the stove.

He was also visibly shaken.

I had sucked the soul from him and he couldn't have made it more obvious. Did he know I had a lot more to offer than that? I grinned when his eyes met mine, that familiar glint showing all the words he didn't say.

He turned away, shaking his head and I sipped on the drink he had made for me. Ramiro was almost speechless and it made my head swell.

What's wrong with me?

I watched the muscles in his back flex underneath his tattoos, and the sight was hard to stray from. His skin was tanned, covered in ink and a few feet away. It was hard not to continuously touch him.

I ran my tongue over my lip, enjoying the view far too fucking much. It wasn't late, and I didn't know if he had anywhere to be. But even if he left here with nothing but the memory of my eyes looking up at him, I couldn't complain.

He grabbed a plate and started dishing up. It was a pasta—linguine covered in a red sauce that he had made. He was quick, and I was jealous.

It usually took an hour for me to just decide what I wanted to eat, and he had a meal set up in less than thirty minutes.

"Here you go, amor," he said, sliding a plate and fork my way. It looked good. It smelled good. My mouth watered, but Ramiro didn't grab a plate for himself and I gave him a look.

"You're not going to eat?" I asked, scowling at him.

"I'm good," he said casually, grabbing a cloth to wipe the hands he had just washed.

"Ramiro."

"I want to leave enough for later in case you get hungry again," he said, frowning at me as if he couldn't believe I was declining his gesture.

"Please don't fuck with me," I said, sighing. "Sit down."

Eating in front of anyone seemed like a nightmare to me. Eating in front of the person who had taken the time to make it for me seemed unfathomable. I wanted him to enjoy it with me.

His eyes lingered on me, a ghost of a smile trailing on his lips. "Okay, ma'am."

I nodded, waiting while he chose to dish his food in a shallow bowl instead. His preferred dish, I suppose.

He grabbed a fork, seating himself opposite me and I grabbed the fork he had set down for me. I wasn't just hungry. I was starving. He must've been too.

I didn't know where Ramiro came from before me, but his wounds were too fresh and I replaced the wet bandage with a dry, clean one. I didn't want to pry. At the same time, I wanted to know about the self-defence story.

"This looks amazing," I murmured, twirling the pasta around my fork. It truly did. It was even better that all I had to do was be there.

As I sat on the chair, I realised that we were essentially having dinner together. It didn't feel odd. I didn't expect it to. Ramiro was inside of my throat and cooked a meal for me afterwards. If that wasn't the perfect ending to a shitty day, I didn't know what was.

"Yeah?" he asked, smiling from opposite the table. "I hope you like it, hermosa."

I took my first bite, frowning at my plate. Fuck. This is almost better than sex. I took another, and another. It was delicious. It reminded me of an expensive restaurant I had visited a couple of times.