“Yes. A lot, actually.”
“Such as?” He bites, and I watch in fascination as he eats. He chews silently, and I love that. A lot of men have no idea how to eat silently.
“When is my debt going to be over? What else do you expect me to do?”
Atlas pushes a bag toward me, and I open it to find a burrito, smiling when I pull it out.
“Do you really want it to be over? Isn’t your life so much fuller now?”
“Fuller? No. Dangerous? Maybe. Annoying? Yes.” I bite into the burrito.
“You have a sexy mouth, and I fucking love to kiss it.” Atlas leans over and does just that. His lips push onto mine. It’s a quick kiss before he pulls away, making me forget I was even eating.
“Why did you do that?” I ask. “Why are you even here?”
Atlas’s cell rings, and he pushes ignore, then looks back at me. “I told you, I like to kiss you.”
“Why—” His phone interrupts me.
He sighs and picks it up. I hear fast talking, then his face does this thing I have come to know. It’s like he places on a mask where everything shuts down, and back in its place is the Atlas I first met. When he finishes the call, he stands, walking over to his shirt and pulling it on before he turns to face me. “I have to go.”
I don’t say anything.
“Theadora,” he says my name, snapping me out of my trance.
“Maybe it’s best you don’t come back.”
“I plan to come back and sleep in the same bed as you,” he says while walking to the door. “Unlock it when I call.”
Then he walks out, leaving me sitting where he left me and having no idea what’s even happening.
It’s almost midnight when I get a message telling me to unlock the door. I contemplate not doing it, or not even replying to him, but I know how relentless he can be. When Atlas wants something, my bet is he always gets it, even if that includes me.
I wait until he knocks, and when he does, my feet are sluggish as I go to the door to open it. Pulling it open, I see his eyes are bloodshot, and his lip is busted. He’s changed and is now dressed in a white button-up shirt and dark jeans.
“What happened?” I ask while stepping up to touch his lip. Atlas doesn’t back away or even tell me to move, he lets me touch his sore lip as if he’s relishing my touch. His eyes even close for a brief second before they fling open and he reaches for my hand, pulling it away from his face but not letting go as he steps inside.
“It’s nothing.” His voice is soft, so I don’t push it. I like it when he’s nice, when he’s good to me. “I’m tired. I told you I would stay, so I am staying.”
“What if I don’t want you to?”
“You do,” he declares categorically while pulling me along as he heads in the direction of my bedroom. I let him, being too tired to argue with him. When we reach my bedroom, he starts to undress before pulling my covers back. His shirt is already off, and his hands start yanking at the top of his jeans as he looks up at me. “You want to talk?” he asks.
“I want answers.”
Atlas rubs his face with his hand, showing his extreme tiredness, but I have put off my questions for long enough.
I want answers.
I deserve answers.
And I am not climbing into that bed with him until I get them.
He finishes dropping his jeans and sits on the edge of my bed, naked. Amber eyes look up at me. “Ask.”
“My sister.” The two words leave my mouth in a rush.
“I’ll let her go tomorrow,” he answers just as fast.
Relief lifts off my chest at his words.
“But if she does it again, you won’t ever see her again.”
My head snaps up.
“She won’t.”
“You believe that?” Atlas raises one eyebrow.
“She won’t,” I protest, shaking my head. “Well, I hope not.”
“Lucy isn’t healthy. She is sadistic and only cares about what she wants.” His words are the truth, and I know it. But the fact that he does know that makes me believe he knows her maybe even better than I do, so I ask, “How well do you know her?”
He reaches for me, pulling me forward to him, his head lies on my stomach, and his hands grip my ass. “Well enough.”
My hands shake as they lift and touch his hair. He doesn’t move, and I wonder if he’s even breathing as I start stroking it.
“You were never with her?” I ask, confirming it one more time.
Atlas keeps his head on my stomach as he answers, “No, never was. Even when she tried so hard,” he said. “You know my type… you.”