The Shade's Of You. | ✓

30

Sophia.

I had been cradling a cup of coffee in my hands when I heard the front door opening and shutting— I had left it unlocked for when he would come back here, again.

He pauses somewhere behind me, this I know because I don't hear his boots against the floorboards as I did seconds ago and I hold my breath for a long moment, waiting but never turning around to face him just yet. He starts walking again and only stops until his directly behind me, slowly breathing down the my back of neck.

I slowly chew on my bottom lip and narrow my eyes. “That car has been circling for a long time.” I quietly state after minutes of silence passes between the both of us.

I feel his hands at my hips as he leads over me to peer out of the window, down at the street and my body humms at the contact, even when his chest presses hard into my back— his scent dances and wraps around me, tightly and securely, making me feel much more calmer now and safe.

“Yeah,” His chest vibrates against me as he speaks with narrowed eyes, watching the car drive pass the building, again. “I'll send some of my men to check that out, okay?”

I stay silent and nod my head in agreement, knowing full well that he would have taken care of it either way too.

Most likely,

He must have spotted it long ago too.

I know I'm definitely not the only one who noticed it.

He doesn't remove himself from me for the next few seconds. If anything, he decides to clutch onto me tighter than before and I smile smugly to myself, not knowing why I find this hilarious but still so sweet and damn smooth.

That was pretty fucking smooth of him. I'm not going to lie about that and internally, I'm clapping my hands for him.

“Babygirl,” His soft lips press on my temple after he sighs. “I'm sorry for upsetting you earlier. I always. . . seem to fuck things up and I'm sorry for that as well.” He whispers.

I open my mouth to tell him that it's fine, that this is how we are and this is how we do and work and that's okay.

But he doesn't let me get a word in because he speaks, again and I let him have his fill— his little moment of sunshine, without disturbing or interrupting him like I would normally do to irritate. I just let him talk to his hearts content. I'll let him apologize. I'll let him do whatever— just for now, anyways because later I might as well tie him up and tape his mouth and I mean that it a very bdsm way which should shock me but it doesn't.

“You're not listening to me, amante.”

“Oh!”

I blush red as if he heard my wild thoughts.

I quickly shake my head, successfully clearing away my thoughts and I turn around in his arms, slowly staring up at him. “I'm sorry, please do repeat what you just said.”

His green eyes narrow at me. “I fucked up with my words this morning.” He states, watching me with dark eyes.

“My parents were fuck ups for parents okay?” He mutters, slowly running his hand through his dark hair. “I just. . . Kids fucking scare me— Charlie fucking scares me! I know I can never be a good parent because I don't know how to. I simply fucking can't. The way I was raised, with guns and dead people, how can someone like me— a fucking leader of killers, grow a fucking child? Me, amante, it would never work.” He rushes to explain himself and my heart clenches in pain at his words because I understand him, I really do.