Page 213 of Embriagado

“Who?”

“Her rapist, my father, whatever you’d call that piece of garbage. He was my second kill.”

I knew I should have been alarmed by his—yet another— murder confession, but instead, I was more curious to know⁠—

“Who was the first?”

He turned to face me, a smirk on his face. “Looks like you’ve developed an appetite for asking questions, Mr. Rivas.”

Despite feeling utterly gutted from within, I somehow managed to smile. “You’re the only one to blame for that.”

“Such a kid thing to say.”

“Hey,” I grunted. “You’re only three years older.”

“You saying that just proves my point.”

Well, I couldn’t argue with facts, but most importantly⁠—

“What happened to her?”

His whole posture stiffened, his demeanor changing in a split second.

“She’s dead now.”

“Did you⁠—”

He shook his head before I could even ask. “No. She overdosed. I only found her body.”

Deadly silence followed his words, the type of silence that left no room for condolences.

“She’d often pass out after using—that’s why I knew to check her pulse since the age of five. That day, I couldn’t find it, so I just… lay next to her. I lay there for a whole week, holding her hand until the smell got so bad I knew the neighbors would call the cops. I only left then.”

The more he spoke, the more my heart broke for him. “How old were you?”

“Twelve.”

He seemed to sink deeper into his past demons, and hating being the cause of it, I was determined to change the subject. Not because I didn’t care, but the other way around. There was only so much a man could share about his past at a time.

“I do have another question, though,” I said, eyeing him.

“Yeah?”

“What’s your real hair color?”

“Excuse me?”

I pinched a strand of his hair between my fingers.

“I would have guessed myself, but you’re completely shaved down there.” I gave him a knowing raised brow when he stared at me, shocked. I was sure he’d hit me, or at the very least scold me, but instead, he burst out laughing. Actually laughing, and I swear to fucking God, hearing him laugh was probably the best thing I’d ever experienced. With his eyes closed and lips stretched wide, he held his stomach and laughed until he was out of breath, and tears studded his eyelashes like diamonds.

“God.” He paused for air. “My whole face hurts now.”

“Want me to kiss it to make it go away?”

Meeting my stare, I was struck by how gorgeous he was, and not waiting for his answer, I took the initiative and leaped in for a kiss. Only for a change, it wasn’t a fight for dominance, nor was it a battle, but acceptance. Slowly dragging my lips along his, I took my sweet time, enjoying this rare moment where his heart was open.

I deepened the kiss as he placed his hand against my jaw, giving me more access to his mouth, and hopefully, a hell of a lot more. And as if we were kids again, we just sat there and kissed until our lips turned dry and swollen. And even then, I struggled to let him go, so⁠—