Page 97 of Interpreter

He shakes his head and then kisses me, gripping my hips with his palms as he controls my body to his liking.

“I’m coming with you,” he grits out between thrusts.

“No.”

His next thrust is harder, and I imagine he’s fucking out all his aggravation on my body.

“You drive me crazy.”

“You’re still not coming with me.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

I put my hands on the sides of his face, stilling him for just a moment. “I’ll come back,” I promise.

He grins. “Sweet. Anniston and the guys would probably kill us if we didn’t visit.”

Have mercy on my soul. “Tim, you aren’t going with me.” Did I not mention he is stubborn?

“You didn’t leave me,” he says all hot and gravelly. “I’m not leaving you.”

What am I supposed to say to that?No, please don’t come with me when you say sweet things like that.I hold his face and press my lips to his, slipping my tongue in. He tastes of love and freedom, and I use every second to memorize the way he feels in my hands… on my tongue… and in my core.

“I won’t leave you, Papi,” I whisper, coming up for air and placing my forehead to his. “We’ll figure this out.”

Tim doesn’t answer me. Instead, he tells me everything as he moves me over him, deep and slow, making love to me onstage until we’re both sweaty and spent, shivering in each other’s arms.

“Come back to bed,” I say finally, pulling back so he can read my lips. I ease off his lap and immediately feel the wetness between us, and this time, it’s not just my wetness.

Tim’s eyes go wide. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I try soothing. “I’m on birth control.”

He nods, but he still doesn’t look sure.

“Come on. Let’s get cleaned up.” I blow out the candle, leaving the guitar for in the morning and tug Tim up the stairs where we shower and lie down. It’s only a few minutes before his breathing evens out and he’s asleep.

I slide out of bed and pad into the kitchen where Pe is seated at the island. “Your phone is buzzing,” he mumbles, looking like a haggard mess wrapped in a throw.

“Why are you still awake?” I ask him.

His eyes narrow on the plane ticket on the counter. “I couldn’t sleep.” Oh.

I sigh and open the refrigerator for a bottle of water. “You need to ask Marcus to move in,” I tell him. “It’s time, Pe. The man loves you and puts up with your sharp-ass toenails. Marry him.”

Felipe scoffs. “My toenails look way better than yours.”

I grin, glad to be able to pull him out of his funk, if only for a moment. I grin at the idiot and then hear my phone buzz again. “Don’t replace me,” I say suddenly. “I’m not that selfless. I’m still your bestie, even if it’s a country away.”

Pe’s big brown eyes redden before they well with unshed tears. “Shut up, bitch. You could never be replaced.”

Yeah, I raced around the counter and buried my head in that silky-smooth chest that smelled like Marcus’s cologne. “I love you, Pe,” I grate out in between sniffles.

“I love you to, Mami.” Pe pulls away first, wiping his face on my shirt before masking the pain in his eyes. “He’ll never let you go,” he says, seeming a little stronger.

“Tim?”

He nods with a grin. “Never underestimate a man with that kind of ass.”

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