Santiago runs his finger over my bottom lip and my red lipstick slightly smudges.
"Santi," I hiss. He leans down and nicks my bottom lip in return.
"It's Mr. Alvaro to you, secretary," he rumbles. He ran his hand that was resting on my hips down to...
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I remove my concealer from my makeup bag and grab a cotton ball from the mini pack I kept in my purse. I took out the stick and dipped it into the bottle a couple of times to get all the liquid I could.
It was quite a big hickey.
I press the brush against his neck, and he flinches. "What?" I asked, confused.
"It's cold," he says, and I roll my eyes. "Toughen up, ʻuʻuku liʻiliʻi," I smile. |Hawaiian- Little bitch.|
"What does it mean?" he asks, looking up at me. He has naturally long eyelashes and I'm jealous. Mines are short and stubby.
"Hold still," I say, gripping his neck. The tip of the brush from the concealer onto the hickey and plopped the stick back into its tube. I grabbed a beauty blender and started to pat down on his skin.
"Do you have to do it so hard?" he grits.
I roll my eyes. "Since when are you so sensitive?"
"Since you've been digging your nails into my skin and practically punching me with that sponge thing," he groans.
I sigh. "Well, I'm almost done, and I have to make sure it's blended completely. No one should be able to tell that you're wearing makeup."
"I can tell when you wear makeup," he counters, and I glare at him.
"That is because I wear lashes, eyeshadow, and eyeliner. I make it known that I'm wearing makeup because I like bold," I explain. "Makes sense?"
"Not really."
"Good. Anyhow, I'm done. Look in the mirror."
He gets up from his bed and goes into the bathroom. I follow him inside. "Huh. Not bad."
"You're welcome, by the way," I roll my eyes.
"It was your fault in the first place."
I open my mouth to respond, but quickly close my mouth. That's not fair. He provoked me.
"So, what are you doing with the rest of your off day?" he asks.
"Cami texted and asked if I wanted to go out tonight. She's never been to New York either and she figured we could explore together," I responded, packing up my things.
"Have you responded to her yet?" he asks.
"No," I scoff. "I was a little busy." With you fingering me on a plane.
"Tell her you're busy."
I raise an eyebrow. "Busy? But I'm not busy."
He walks towards me and towers over me. "Yeah, you are. Because I'm taking you out. Tonight."
