Page 88 of Sangre
“We’ve gotta go,” Sangre said, pulling Isla away.
“Okay. Thanks again, Isla,” Faith said.
“You’re welcome,” she answered, rushing to keep up with Sangre’s long strides. “What the hell?” she said softly.
“The conversation was done, two minutes after we went over. You need to get some sleep.”
She smiled at his concern and let him lead her into the house. In the kitchen, she poured two glasses of orange juice and put them on the granite breakfast bar. “Did you want something to eat?”
He gulped down the juice. “Nah. We need to get some sleep. How often do you pull all-nighters?”
“Not very often. Terry Z is a taskmaster, so we’ve done more with him than all the other recording studios combined. He’s the best, so it’s worth it.”
“You’re pretty friendly with your neighbors.”
“I tend to be that way.” She poked him lightly in the ribs. “Remember when you moved into our neighborhood?”
“Best move ever.” He winked at her. “Are your neighbors from here?”
She put her glass down. “Faith and Colt aren’t. They moved here from Omaha. I think she told me it was about five or six years ago. The Elderberrys, on the other side of me, are from here. They’re an older couple, and Eleanor will come over and water my plants and flowers if she thinks they need some loving care. I’m grateful that she does that, because when I get busy, I tend to forget about everything. The Farrells, from across the street, have the cutest baby and dog. I think they’re from Denver.” She went to the fridge and came back with the carton of orange juice and poured another glass for her and Sangre. “Having neighbors I actually talk to beyond ‘hi’ is an anomaly for me. In LA, I’d be lucky to even see my neighbors, let alone talk to them.”
“I guess. For now, you need to put the brakes on being too friendly since everyone is a suspect.”
“And I thoughtIwas paranoid.” She laughed and put the empty glasses in the dishwasher.
“You just never know. Even the old lady is a suspect.”
“Eleanor? No way.” Standing behind him, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed his neck. “I think the lack of sleep has made you delusional. Let’s go upstairs,” she murmured against his skin.
When they went into her bedroom, Sangre walked over to the window and stared out for a few minutes before closing the shutters. After shrugging off his clothes, he went into the bathroom. Isla pulled out a short nightshirt from her dresser, peeled off her clothes, and slipped it on. She shuffled to the bed and slipped between the cool cotton sheets.
“You smell fresh,” she said to Sangre as he approached the bed. “I should probably take a quick shower too.”
He slid in behind her, his arm looping around her waist, and pulled her to him, so her butt was against his stomach. “You smell sexy and wicked. Just the way I like it.”
She placed her hand on his, and an overwhelming sense of comfort filled her. “You make me happy,” she whispered.
He scattered feathery kisses on the side of her face. “I’m glad. You do all kinds of shit to me.” His strong arm pressed her closer, fusing them together, and his warm breath on her shoulder brought goosebumps to her skin.
This is so perfect. I never want it to stop.Feeling protected and cherished, her eyelids grew heavy and her breathing became slower and deeper as she dropped off to sleep.
