Page 37 of The Coldest: Stay Dangerous Part 2

I turn to my left, toward the bathroom door, and blanch.

Richard Alvarez, in all his half naked glory.

Bronzed skin stretching over lean muscles. He was lanky before, the last time I’d seen his body.

Not anymore.

Rico’s still thin, but definitely solid. Veins line corded muscles on his forearms. Pectoral muscles that are probably heavenly to lay on. Six abs. An Adonis belt I could eat on, leading to that one-eyed monster clad in tight, black briefs.

My eyes balloon as it begins to stiffen. I snatch my gaze back to his face, wincing when his good eye, not covered in an eye patch, is narrowed at me.

“Did you need something?”

I stab a thumb into the air, shaking my head free of any impure thoughts. I hate this man. This infuriatingly sexy man.

“So, about the kid who is claiming Fredo is his dad?”

Rico’s back stiffens, and I fold my arms.

“Don’t even try it, Richard. You just said–”

“I know what I said, Snow.” He saunters across the room, disappearing into what is probably his closet.

I guessed right, because seconds later he’s strolling toward me with black shorts hanging off his tapered waist.

Jesus Christ.

The sex appeal wafting off him makes me that much more self-conscious of the grime covering my body, and fuzz growing underneath my arms.

“C’mere.” He gestures for me to follow him, and I oblige in my half-drunken state.

It’s possible to be drunk off lust, right?

It’s been so long since I’ve felt that way.

But then I think about the last time, and my lip curls.

Good. I’m remembering I hate him.

He grabs his first-aid kit and I plop down on the toilet, presenting my hand to him.

He takes off the bandage, tsking at me before throwing the soiled gauze in the trashcan.

“Does it hurt?”

“No. Well, a little when you pulled it off, but it’s okay.”

He grunts, cleaning the cut as gently as he can with antiseptic wipes.

I curl my toes at the pain, but other than that, I take it to the chin.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to apologize for cutting him. After all, I can’t take my eyes off the ridiculous eye patch, but I refrain. I’m tired of apologizing. And I’m tired of feeling bad. I don’t think I could ever want to hurt someone, but it does feel good to not be the only one hurt for once.

So instead, I blurt, “I didn’t know you had so much family.”

“Nan has a lot of cousins. Most of the older ones stay here, but their children and grandchildren are all over.”

“And where is ‘here’?”