Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Yet Miguel seemed unbothered by any of this even when he grabbed a few napkins and pulled the glass from between Nero’s fingers, as if he were taking a lighter from a child. More people migrated out of the room, but Nero was too preoccupied by Miguel’s closeness to pay them any attention. For such a hot-blooded man, Miguel had shockingly cold hands. Yet despite their unusual temperature, they were big and rough, and could work with delicious precision.
“Yeah. Why would you flirt with this bigmouth no one?”
Miguel sucked his tongue between his teeth and refused to meet Nero’s eyes, focused on dabbing the cut with the napkin. “I work for you. You don’t own me. Understood?”
“You’re just trying to make me jealous.”
Miguel’s gaze, hot like chili cocoa, snapped to Nero, whose insides flipped, making him feel lightheaded. “Is that what you’re feeling?” He tugged on Nero’s wrist, leaving him no choice but to follow.
“I’m not gonna be snubbed for a guy whose claim to masculinity is the size of his pecs and the price of his watch,” Nero said as Miguel dragged him into the main room and toward the bar.
A muscular, daddy-type dude was on stage, failing to hit the highest notes in a Cher song to the amusement of his friends, but Nero only cared about Miguel’s hold on him. He imagined being slammed against the wall and Miguel helping himself to him from the back while twisting his arm.
It would have been so damn hot.
But no. Miguel sat him on a bar stool and glared at the bartender. “Hey, get us a first aid kit.”
The guy opened his mouth with a frown but then spotted Nero’s hand and dove under the bar to retrieve a small plastic box.
“Nice way to talk about an ex,” Miguel said and grabbed a fresh napkin from a pile on the counter.
“He’s not an ex. And he knew you were here with me, so if he can’t keep his mouth shut, he deserves what he got,” Nero snapped but didn’t resist when Miguel placed his hand on the polished wood.
The bartender cleared his throat. “Maybe you could take this to the bath—” When Nero showed off his filed teeth, he didn’t bother finishing his sentence and walked to the other end of the bar, leaving them with the box and a beer glass filled with water.
"You're the only one hurt," Miguel said, focused on cleaning Nero’s cut in the warm light shed on them from under the fake palm leaf roofing.
“This?” Nero chuckled. “I’ve been shot and stabbed. This is nothing and well worth chasing him off.”
Miguel shook his head but remained so very tender it melted Nero’s insides. “Worth it? For more time with me? I’m around all the time.”
He was, but tonight seemed different. As if Miguel actually wanted to be there instead of just enduring Nero’s presence.
Nero pulled his spiky teeth over the inside of his lip, contemplating when his attraction to Miguel had turned him into a jealous toddler. “We don’t often have fun together.”
Miguel put gauze over the disinfected cut and grabbed a bandage. “Wasn’t tonight fun? You got a man eaten by a chimp.”
“Are you really trying to tell me you didn’t enjoy seeing it happen?” Nero asked, snorting as he looked up at Miguel. Even the pain in his hand couldn’t spoil his mood. In fact, he’d cut himself again if it meant those cold, inked fingers kept touching him.
Miguel nodded, wrapping the bandage around Nero’s hand. “Got what he deserved. And now that you scared off your friends and we had ‘fun’, can we go home?”
Nero rolled his eyes, enjoying the gentle pressure of Miguel’s fingers, which sent ants up his arm, to swarm at the nape. “Don’t be boring. The night’s still young. We might as well drink some more.”
“You wanna drink more? With me?” Miguel made that long-suffering face, as if he were about to walk the plank off a pirate ship. Nero missed his touch the moment he tied the ends of the dressing in a tidy knot.
“What else do you have planned for tonight?” Nero asked and snapped his fingers at the barman with his healthy hand. “We’ll do shots. If you can outdrink me, we go home.”
Miguel groaned. “Fine. I had a virgin drink, so I have a head start.”
Nero frowned. “Since when are you so cautious?” he asked and ordered their poison before glancing at Miguel in the golden light that added a shade of honey to his dark eyes. The counter was sticky under his touch, the upholstery of the seats—worn, and the floor needed a scrubbing, but that was how he felt more at ease. This place was used and imperfect, just like him.
Miguel chewed on his answer. “Since you have a tendency to get in trouble.”