“No,” I say. “I have a meeting, so I’ll skip breakfast today.”
“Okay.” She leaves the hairdryer on the dresser and comes over. “Is something bothering you?”
“No. Why?”
“You seem . . . angry.” She places her hand on my forearm and brushes it lightly.
“I don’t get angry, Milene.”
She arches her eyebrows. “You could have fooled me.”
I grab her around the waist and pull her to me. She smiles. It’s one of the smiles I like—the one where her eyes seem as though they’re twinkling.
People rarely smile at me, and I don’t really want them to. I just need them to do what they’re told.
Squeezing my arm more tightly around her, I smash my lips against hers, stealing that smile. It’s mine. She’s mine. Along with everything else she has to give. Every smile, every kiss, every moan. They’re all mi
