Her eyes narrow and she takes a step back. “I don’t.” She shakes her head, fighting more tears. “I don’t have a kid.”

“Another lie?” I tilt my head down, inspecting her. She’s hiding something.

“I swear, I’m not a mother,” she finishes quietly, looking away.

I make a move, resuming my quest for the shower, but her hand ghosts over my abs, stopping me. Then she goes and does something completely unreasonable. She hugs me. Straight up embraces me with both her arms. I don’t think I’ve been hugged in, well, ever? So I just stand, rooted to the ground, not sure what to do, my arms flailing at the side of my body. She squeezes harder, burying her face in my chest, the scent of her coconut shampoo drifting into my nose.

“I’m sorry. And I’d completely understand if you abandon ship. You have a fake passport, you have the Beatmobile. I’ll give you my money. All yours. Just please. . .forgive me. That was before.”

Before we found out we were more than just fugitives with the same hit list.

I peel her away from my body, keeping her a step away from me by holding her shoulders.

“You f*cked up,” I grunt.

“I know,” she murmurs, but her chin is up, liquid fire in her eyes. Still my f*cking fighter, ready to break some bones.

“But here’s the thing, Pea,” I rub her split lower lip, the one that keeps healing and breaking again and again, before I plant a kiss on the dry scab. “You’re a shit person. You’re a liar, a con and a witch. You’re a storm, and you want to hurt those who hurt you. You’re bad. And when you’re mad? You’re even worse. Capable of lying. Of deceiving. Even, I suspect, of killing. And I love you. I’m wholeheartedly, desperately, unapologetically in love with your sorry ass.”

Her mouth falls open, probably because I just made an already complex situation even more explosive, but I continue, undeterred. “You know why? Because you pulled laughter out of me like no one else has. You made me smile more in three weeks than I’ve smiled in my entire twenty-seven years. That’s enough payment, in my opinion.”

“You love me?” she whispers, pointing to herself, disbelief coloring every corner of her face. I nod once.

“I do. I love you.” I love her.

“Say it again.”

“I love you,” I say louder, understanding her need to hear it.

No mom. No dad. God knows where her brother is. She needs it. She’s getting it. I’m going to give her everything she wants before we say our goodbyes.

I erase the space I created between us—I hated it anyway. “I love a chick named Cockburn,” I admit, “and even more embarrassing, I love a girl named Prescott. I love you, Pea. I love you, Miss Burlington-Smyth. Who else?”

Her arms circle around my neck, our bodies sticking together. There’s that smile. That beautiful, confident smirk that even Sebastian couldn’t wipe off with his fists and pointy shoes. “I’m sure you can think of a few other things to call me. Words are your trade.”

“I love you, Hot Ass.” I grab her butt and crush it, until she flinches in pain, and release slowly, knowing that she clenches from the inside every time I hurt her. “I love everything about you. The sun-kissed freckles on your shoulders and your taste in books and music and the way you laugh, that angelic blonde hair, and the way you let me lick your crack when you know I’ve had a long, stressful day.”

She laughs, but her face coils in agony. We’re either not getting out of this shit alive, or if we do, we’re going our separate ways. I can’t stay in the states and she has nothing to do in Mexico. Besides, I know her by now. She’ll try and find her brother, dig until the truth hits her in her pretty face with a f*cking shovel.

Her hands roam my chest and when she looks back up, her eyes are menacing.

“I miss the feeling of your cock filling every space in my body,” she admits.

“It misses you too,” I breathe, pulling her to the bed and yanking her into my lap. She sits on top of me like I’m Santa and she’s a shy kid, but my plans for her are the kind of shit children under eighteen aren’t supposed to see.

“Maybe it’s time him and I get together again. Release some of that tension. Tonight is a big night.” She wiggles her brows. I pat my junk.

“Show me what you’ve got.”

“Prepare to be amazed, Mr. Delaware.” Her husky voice trails downwards, kissing its way from my throat to my chest. She stops with her lips on my neck and pushes me back, until I’m lying down, then continues her journey south.

“Just don’t suck Delaware Jr. You’re terrible at giving head,” I warn when she unbuttons my jeans. Who am I shitting? I’m dying for those pinks to meet my dick again.

My jeans are tossed aside and she peppers my groin with wet, starving kisses, her eyes are closed, and she looks pained. Not the kind of pain I want her to be in; not the kind I can control.

I play with her hair, admiring the view under my chest. She doesn’t stop kissing the swollen flesh of my cock, dragging her tongue and treating it like a lollipop. This is actually pretty good.

“I love your monster cock,” she sighs and I groan, letting my head fall back to the flat pillow. Her hand snakes under me, and she caresses my * with one finger while massaging my balls with her thumb. Fuck.