As her bladder twitched with pressure, an odd thought struck. “I haven’t seen you use the bathroom since I’ve been here.”
“I went while you were sleeping. Even brushed my teeth.” He touched his lips to her forehead. “Are you concerned about my bathroom habits?”
“No, it’s just…” With her arm resting along his ribs, she traced a finger across the bottom edge of his pectoral, which felt a whole lot like steel. “I guess…I don’t know. It’d be nice to see you do something human.”
“Look closer then.” He lifted her chin with a knuckle and gave her a good look at the hazel swirls of life in his eyes. “I feel pain and hope and fear, just like you.” He moved his hand from her face to hold up his wrist with the pockmarked scar. “To this day, I’m afraid of big black dogs. I take melatonin because I have trouble sleeping. I get indigestion when I eat too many empanadas.”
Her heart thudded and twisted.
“And I dreamt about this, Camila.” He touched her cheek oh-so delicately with the pads of his fingers. “I dreamt about waking up with you for as long as I can remember.”
That was… Wow. He was sharing, and she liked it. Liked it so much it made her uneasy and fluttery, her lips teetering on the verge of a weird smile.
With a ragged inhale, she lowered her gaze to the dense stubble on his jaw. “Remember when we sneaked into the faculty room at school and photocopied our faces?”
“That’s not the only thing we photocopied.”
“That was all you.” She jabbed a finger at his chest, fighting a grin. “You yanked your pants down and sat your butt cheeks on the glass top. My poor innocent eyes.”
“You looked?” He leaned back, eyebrows arched.
“Well, um…yeah.” It’d been her sixth grade year, so they’d been twelve and fourteen. She’d seen him nude as a child, but that day had been the first time she’d ogled him in all his postpubescent glory. “I don’t really remember.”
“You’re lying.” He bit her neck playfully. “You definitely remember.”
A full-blown smile stretched her cheeks as she recalled her shock. He’d looked like a man to her then. All that pubic hair—black like the hair on his head. And balls that hung low beneath a cock she’d fantasized about every night for the next three years. To think, he’d waited until she was fifteen before he let her touch him beneath his boxers.
She shrugged. “Too bad we didn’t save the evidence. When the Xerox machine spit out that grainy picture of your ass…Oh God, do you remember? I’ve never laughed so hard in my life.”
“Yeah, you peed your pants.” His shoulders shook with laughter.
“Down my legs and all over my flip-flops. I had to wear your gym shorts home.” She groaned. “I was so embarrassed you saw that.”
“Why?” His brow furrowed. “Did I say something—?”
“No, you were cool about it. You were always…” So tender and protective and perfect in every way. “You had my back.”
She sighed, holding on to the memory and her smile.
“This is what I missed more than anything else.” He trailed a finger across the curve of her lips. “You’re so goddamn beautiful, Camila, but when you smile, you light up the whole fucking world.”
Her lips fell beneath his finger, her chest tightening with the weight of the huge, indescribable thing between them. She couldn’t pretend this bond didn’t exist. It’d been there her entire life. Even through twelve years of separation, she never stopped sensing it, thinking about it, and now, it sang with his words and vibrated with his touch.
But it was also murky and distorted with ugly truths. He’d purchased her, beaten her against a post, and refused to talk about his job. He was a slave trader, yet he’d helped her dispose of the bodies of slave buyers. Because he cared about her? He was an infuriating contradiction. As much as she wanted to luxuriate in their reconnection, doing so would be a death sentence for the women he preyed on next.
She needed to be smart about it. Nurture the bond. Manipulate it. Keep her fucking heart focused on the reason she was here. Except she wasn’t a manipulative person. She was better than that, and at one time, he’d been a better person, too.
She lifted her hand and clutched his. Their fingers entwined, grasping and shooting tingles up her arm.
With a sudden shift that made her gasp, he yanked her up the bed and put them at eye level on their sides, fingers laced between them and his arm locked around her back.
“I know you felt it.” He searched her face, lips parted. “Last night when I was inside you, and now. You feel us.”
Her chest ached. She tried not to feel anything at all, gulping down her breaths to stay quiet.
“Just stop for a second.” He rested his forehead against hers. “Give yourself this, Camila. Let it happen.”
“I can’t.” She leaned her head away. “It’s like dangling a prize in a trap.”
She desperately wanted to reach for it, to hold him, knowing if she did he’d break her, painfully and irreparably.
“What’s the prize?” He watched her intently.
“Happiness without fear. Love without cruelty.” She closed her eyes, voice raw with honesty. “You without slavery.”
He let go of her fingers and smothered her against him in an embrace that buried her face in his neck. She wished she could see his expression, but his deep, steady breaths told her enough.
“You like my answer.” She matched the pace of his breaths as if she wasn’t trembling inside.
“Mm.”
“What is Mm? I don’t understand you. You seem to want this, us, but you also want your disgusting profession. You can’t have both, Matias. Don’t you get it? As long as you’re enslaving women, I will never stop fighting.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Then explain it.”
“Not yet.” He pressed his lips to the top of her head.
“Why not?”
“You need to see it for yourself.”
Fucking impossible. “I need to pee.” She squirmed against him.
He kissed along
