“You would’ve missed my cuddles too much,” I joke.
He tightens his arms around me and draws me closer. “I would have,” he states, not joking. “I did. I never want to again.”
Tenderness and protectiveness war within me, fighting each other to reassure him first. Logically I know he may just be using my emotions against me to get out of this conversation, but my heart doesn’t care. On the off chance he’s sincere, I want to wipe away any hint of unpleasantness he could ever be feeling. “You never will,” I promise him. “My heart is 110% yours.”
His brown eyes dance with amusement as he looks at the death necklace I wore to bed tonight. “Plus you have all this commitment jewelry.”
I hold up my beautiful engagement ring and gaze lovingly at the wedding band that now accompanies it. “That’s right. Mrs. Mateo Morelli. You’re never getting rid of me now.”
Burying his face in my neck, he promptly transforms me into a vessel of pleasure. “I like the sound of that.”
“So do I,” I tell him, while I still have the ability to speak coherently. “So do I.”
Chapter Six
Mia
The busy Chicago streets are bustling with people trying to get where they’re going quickly, few prepared for the sudden onslaught of rain pelting them now as they walk.
“I love rainy days,” I tell Rafe. We’re safe from the rain in the back seat of Mateo’s Escalade. Adrian is driving us—he seems grumpier about it than usual, though. I don’t think he’s overly pleased that Rafe is here.
I’ve warmed up to the idea since Mateo assured me this isn’t some bullshit loyalty test he’s inflicting on me again. He could be lying, but I doubt it. For all his perceived selfishness, Mateo frequently puts my needs ahead of everything else.
More than I ever knew, apparently.
It’s strange how after five years with that man, he can still surprise the hell out of me.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen one,” Rafe replies, but he’s paying more attention to the front seat than the people or the weather. He’s less comfortable than I am with Adrian around. It’s odd, since he’s comfortable with Mateo around, but I suppose Mateo is more polite than Adrian. Unless you’re family, Adrian tends to emanate a distinct “I will stab you for smiling at me” vibe that doesn’t exactly put people at ease. Technically Rafe is family, but Adrian’s mood has hovered around “fuck off” since Mateo tasked him with babysitting us today.
“Desert weather is weird,” I state. “You guys with your outdoor television sets and furniture.”
Rafe cuts a look at me now, smiling faintly at the memory. “You should be glad for the outdoor set-up. At least you didn’t have to run your little ass all the way inside the house to serve me.”
Adrian hits the brakes rather aggressively and Rafe lurches forward, raising an eyebrow in question.
“Pedestrians,” Adrian states, though no one appears to be walking in front of the vehicle. “Mia, why don’t you get out here so you don’t get wet.”
“By myself?”
“No, Casanova here will have to go with you. I’ll be around as soon as I park.”
Rafe smirks at Adrian’s clear displeasure, leaning forward to open the car door for me. He climbs out first, peeling his suit jacket off, then holds it over me so I don’t get wet as we run into the little deli where we’re having lunch.
Once inside, Rafe shakes out his jacket and slides it back on. He’s all wet, but I’m nice and dry. I flash him a grateful smile for his gentlemanly behavior.
He utterly ruins it by asking, “Does he want to fuck you or what?”
My jaw drops. “Huh?”
“Adrian. He hates me. Never used to hate me, and I haven’t done a damn thing to him.”
“Oh, that.” I shake my head dismissively. “Don’t take it personally. That’s just how Adrian is. I think it’s because cleaning up after Mateo is such an all-encompassing, never-ending job. Adrian’s always mean to people if he feels like they’re potentially trouble. He loves me now, but he used to treat me the exact same way before Mateo and I got together. He was mean to me at every available opportunity. He just doesn’t trust you.”
“Is that all?” Rafe asks, lightly.
“It’s your fault,” I state, walking ahead of him so I can look up at the menu. “You shouldn’t refer to me serving you in front of Adrian when he knows our history.”
“Our history?” he asks, amused.
Rolling my eyes, I mutter, “You men and that word. What am I supposed to call it?”
He steps up beside me and joins me in looking up at the menu board. “Well, you did serve me. You want me to lie?”
“How about just don’t ever bring it up again and we pretend it never happened?” I suggest.