Page 39 of Shades of Ruin (Sharp Edges Duet #2)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

ANGéLICA

I don’t know whether I expected things to change between Grey and me after he said I love you— for there to be this noticeable shift in the way we act with each other.

For the most part, there hasn’t been any change at all.

Grey is the same demanding, brutal, passionate, caring person he’s always been.

He works me just as hard, critiques me just as rigidly, hurts me just as much as I want him to, and fucks me just as viciously as he always has.

And I’m relieved that love hasn’t softened any of his sharp edges.

Our trip to Paris ended two week ago, and I can’t stop thinking about those few, perfect days Grey and I spent together, eating and fucking beneath the twinkling Parisian night sky.

There’s something special about the city, a sort of creative pulse that you can feel thumping at its center like a heartbeat.

Paris is a living thing with an old, artistic soul.

I feel her call to me even now, beckoning me to the cafes and restaurants and clubs and markets where I felt so at home.

Maybe one day, Grey and I could make it our home.

For now, home is Grey’s apartment, overlooking the distant skyline of Chicago.

We’re happy here, but I’m growing anxious for something new and exciting.

Grey can probably sense the need for change stirring under my skin.

I never sit in one place for too long; it’s a pesky habit I picked up after I left Colombia.

Constantly looking over your shoulder leaves you looking for a new place to hide every time you focus on what’s ahead of you.

And the urge to drop everything and run is like an itch I can’t scratch.

I wonder if Grey would come with me if I did?

Today is the one day of the week that we don’t have to work at the restaurant.

Sunday tradition dictates that Grey and I spend the whole morning fucking—which we follow with religious dedication.

Afterward, he cooks breakfast while I go back to sleep to rest up for the next round of taking his cock in one or more of my holes.

This morning is eggs Benedict with an apple cider hollandaise sauce, crispy roasted potatoes, and smoked ham.

I guarantee his five-star meal will earn him a five-star blow job after the dishes have been cleared.

“Why don’t you shower while I clean up the mess in the kitchen?” I offer while gathering the stray dishes and glasses strewn across the bed and stacking them on the tray he used to bring them in. Grey grabs my hips and pulls me against him. Somehow I manage not to drop everything on the floor.

“Why don’t you fuck the dishes and join me in the shower?” he growls against me ear, nipping at my earlobe.

“I refuse to have shower sex while the kitchen is a wreck and dirty dishes are all over the bed.” I try to push him away, but that only results in me rubbing my ass against his obvious erection. “How are you still hard? We’ve already fucked three times this morning.”

“I have to spend the entire week resisting the urge to bend you over and fuck you while you sway this perfect ass around in my kitchen. Sundays are payback for every time I didn’t stick my cock in you. We have at least five more rounds to go before I’m moderately satisfied.”

“ Five ?” I gasp. “I’m not sure I can survive five more.”

“Well then, we’ll have to work on your stamina, chef. Starting with the shower.”

He starts to undo the buttons on my shirt before I brush his hands away. “How about you let me tidy up first, and I’ll agree to four more rounds?”

“Deal if I get to pick where,” his fingers slide down my shirt and undo the last two buttons, “and how.” Suddenly his mouth is against my neck, kissing me into a stupor. I won’t have the strength to deny him much longer.

“Should I be worried?” I sigh as his tongue slides up and down the length of my throat, tasting the salt on my skin.

I feel him smile. “Probably.” His hand slides under my open shirt and squeezes my tit before tugging on my pebbled nipple. I moan at his touch, shamefully susceptible to his skilled fingers.

“Fine. Deal,” I choke out before he manages to drag me willingly to the shower for a fuck against the slippery tile wall—or floor.

“I’m going to punish you for making me wait,” he breathes across my skin. It’s a threat that sends shivers racing down my spine.

“Yeah, I’m counting on it,” I answer with a smirk. “Now go rinse off. You smell like sex.”

“Enjoy your moment of safety while you can, angel. I’m going to tear into you as soon as I get out.”

“Promises, promises,” I laugh before gathering the tray of dishes and heading for the kitchen.

I discover that the kitchen isn’t actually in a terrible state, so it won’t take me too long to wipe down and put everything in the dishwasher.

I slide our plates into the sink, jolting when I notice a little blonde head and a pair of blue eyes staring at me from across the counter.

“Fuck,” I screech, clutching my chest in surprise. “How the hell did you get in here?”

The little girl of about five stares at me suspiciously. “You’re not Uncle Grey,” she accuses, staring me down like I’m the one who shouldn’t be here.

Uncle Grey . He mentioned that he had a sister, so this must be her daughter, his niece.

The girl’s eyes go even wider when I circle the counter, and I realize that my shirt is still completely unbuttoned.

“Shit, sorry.” I start to shove buttons through the holes as fast as I can while she watches me intently.

“Elia,” someone calls down the hall. The little girl doesn’t break her stare. “Lia!”

A woman with dark hair and eyes the same shade as Grey’s walks into the room, gasping in embarrassment when she sees how underdressed I am. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she apologizes, averting her eyes as she reaches for her daughter. “Greyson never has anyone over on Sunday.”

“What the fuck is going on out here?” Grey walks into the kitchen wearing only a towel wrapped around his hips, his hair and chest dripping wet. He looks across the kitchen, and his eyes flash with mortification.

“Jesus, Liv, you can’t just barge into my apartment without calling first.” He fumbles with his towel, but there isn’t much that can be done to conceal the fact that he’s naked underneath.

His niece giggles. “You look funny with all those pictures on your skin, Uncle Grey.” His tattoos are pretty striking when he shows this much of his body.

“Your mommy has funny pictures too, Lia. She just keeps them covered up now,” Grey teases.

He looks over at me, and I have to try very hard not to salivate over his half-naked body while his family is watching.

“This is my niece, Elia. And my sister, Olivia. She has a terrible habit of using the emergency key I gave her to walk into my apartment unannounced whenever it suits her.”

Olivia glares at him in annoyance. “That’s because you never answer my calls or come to see us.”

Grey shrugs. “I’m busy, Liv. I run a very successful restaurant, remember?” I roll my eyes at the false arrogance in his tone.

“Too busy for your niece and only sister?” she challenges. I look at Elia to see if she’s picked up on her mom and uncle’s argument, but she’s spotted Grey’s pantry and makes a beeline for the snacks.

“Most of the time, yes.”

Olivia levels him with a terrifying glare that must be a Greyson family trademark. “Stop acting like you’re a dick. It doesn’t suit you.”

Grey crosses his arms over his bare chest. “What makes you think it’s an act?”

Her scowl melts into a smile. “If you really didn’t want to see me, you wouldn’t have given me a key.”

The moment Grey cracks a smile too, I know he’s surrendered. “I hate it when you’re right,” he sighs.

“I’m always right. That’s what little sisters are for.” Her ability to put Grey in his place makes me like her immediately. “So who is this?” She studies me curiously, no judgment in her eyes in spite of the fact that she’s caught her brother and me half-naked.

“Angélica, my pastry chef,” Grey answers in a bland tone. It’s true, but that doesn’t make his response hurt any less. Last I checked, he didn’t stuff his employees like profiteroles every chance he gets.

Olivia narrows her eyes. “It’s Sunday, so she can’t be working.”

Grey groans like the next confession physically pains him. “She’s also my girlfriend. ”

“Girlfriend?” Olivia repeats like she can’t quite believe it.

“It surprised me too,” Grey admits with a laugh, his warm eyes finding mine. “But I can’t live without her now.”

“Ahh, that explains the obsessive glint in your eye every time you look at her.” She glances at me conspiratorially. “I don’t know how you put up with his shit.”

“It’s not too hard,” I reply. “When he gives me hell, I just give it right back.”

“You’d have to be able to hold your own around this asshole,” she laughs in response. “You have such a pretty accent, by the way. Did you grow up in Colombia?”

I try to hide the uneasiness that always comes when talking about home. “I did. How did you guess?”

“I did a trip there for my Spanish course in college. It was only a few weeks, but I loved it there. I still dream about the arepas. Nothing here has ever compared.”

“Well, I happen to make very good arepas. You should come over for dinner one night.”

“Did you hear that, Grey? Your girlfriend invited me over.”

“And she and I will have a talk about keeping away annoying sisters after you leave.”

Elia stomps into the room, her wide eyes disappointed to find us all still talking. “Uncle Grey, I’m hungry,” she pouts.

Grey’s face softens into an expression I’ve never seen before. “What do you want to eat, Lia-bear?”

“Chef’s surprise!” she shouts with far too much enthusiasm to fit such a little body.

“Dare I ask what chef’s surprise is?” I ask, my eyes darting to Grey.