I laugh at her problem-solving skills and finish my glass with while she puts her eyes back at me.
“He really said that?” She cocks an eyebrow, her face full of irritation.
“Oh, yeah, he even asked me if it would really be that bad.” I smile sadly.
“What did you say?”
“That it would be like being eaten by a snake and spit out. Every day.”
“Well, at least you haven’t lost your sense of humor,” she murmurs before bringing her glass to her lips. I’m not worried about losing my sense of humor. I’m worried about losing my life.
“Okay, so how much are we talking about here?” she asks while she opens up the bottle of tequila and pours us a row of shots. I normally don’t drink this much, but tonight I don’t care. I just want to stop feeling, hoping I will get some kind of epiphany in the self-created numb state I’m going for right now.
We each grab a shot in one hand, holding a slice of lemon in the other. We don’t bother saying anything funny or clever because what could we say about this situation other than ‘bottoms up’? We down the shots, and I almost gag, having forgotten how disgusting tequila actually tastes.
“Ten million and fourteen days,” I grunt before I put the lemon in my mouth. I shut my eyes when the sour juice touches my tongue, making my skin crawl. I force my teeth into the piece of fruit, and I feel the tequila burning a path down my throat. When I open my eyes again, Gen is looking at me with wide eyes and a bitter face that matches my own. She doesn’t say a word, but she keeps blinking like she didn’t hear me correctly. Her alcohol-soaked brain is slowly processing what I said, and I see the exact moment she realizes how fucked we are.
“Should have started that call girl service we were talking about when we were sixteen, huh? Selling pussy doesn’t sound so bad when it’s not mine.” I shoot her an optimistic wink, trying to lighten the mood.
“You’d need to sell a whole lot of pussy, girl,” she murmurs. “What the fuck are we going to do? Even if we got some high-end girls like ASAP, we’d need about a hundred girls fucking around the clock to be able to pull those numbers off.”
I slowly move my face towards her, looking at her incredulously.
“You’ve thought about this?”
“I still think it’s a great business plan.” She shrugs, handing me another shot of tequila. We throw them back, and when I straighten my head, swallowing the Mexican gold, my eyes automatically lock with a set of deep blues. His tattooed arms are leaning on the railing, making his strapping body appear even wider than it had initially seemed. The alcohol has me feeling like a rock star as I hold his gaze, my eyes challenging him more with every second.
“Who’s the bad boy?” Imogen follows my gaze, snapping me out of the moment.
“A distraction.” I throw down another shot before slamming the glass on the bar.
“A past distraction or a future distraction?”
“Both. We shared the elevator up here.” I have a slight buzz and thinking about our elevator ride brings a genuine smile to my face. Fuck it all. I don’t know how, but I will fix this. I will find a way out because I refuse to become Mrs. fucking Distucci. My eyes find his again, and it feels like he has an invisible cord connecting us, luring me in with his energy. I feel drawn to him, and I want nothing more than to stroll over there and tug him to my body. Feel the touch of his lips all over my body, his tongue tracing the veins in my neck.
“Callie?” I look at my cousin, totally oblivious to what she just said.
“Hmm, what?”
“Who is the bad boy?” she repeats.
I casually shrug my shoulders, having no answers regarding his name. All I know about him is that he is evoking unfamiliar emotions in me. And all of them are currently centered between my legs, craving the feeling of his dick inside me. Wow, Callie, keep your drunk mind out of the gutter.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “But he kissed me and offered me a drink.”
“What the fuck?! He kissed you? Why the fuck are you sitting here with me then? Go fuck that tattooed stud!” She incredulously points her thumb towards the deck.
“Uh, I’m sorry? Did you not get the memo? I have my hand full of Italians, I don’t need any more men to complicate my already fucked up life.”
“Exactly. It’s already fucked up, may as well enjoy your last days.”
“My last days? Really helpful, Gen,” I counter flatly.
“Just saying.” She gives me an innocent smile, fluttering her lashes at me. “Look, the way I see it, you have a few options here. One,” she puts one finger in the air, “drown yourself in vodka, which sounds like a great plan right now, but trust me, you will regret it tomorrow. Two, you fuck the tattooed Greek god that has been staring at you for ten minutes. Heck, maybe he’ll end up being your Prince Charming and save you from the Italians. Either way, he looks like a good fuck. Three, get your ass on that dancefloor until you pass out.” She points her finger to the DJ, who is blasting loud house music out of the speakers. My legs feel wobbly just sitting on this barstool, but it is damn tempting to give in to the beat and dance my sorrows away. Or at least for a few hours.
I grab her wrist and yank her off her stool.
“Come on,” I say, tugging her behind me.
“Really?” she asks in surprise while she willingly follows me. “You sure you don’t want to take a ride on that bad boy?”
“Nope, no men tonight.” I flash her a smile and pull her to the dancefloor. We start moving simultaneously, feeling the music go through our tipsy bodies. We sway our hips and move our bodies, sweat appearing on our backs within minutes. It doesn’t take long before we attract a small group of admirers, but we ignore them, having more than enough fun with each other without needing to add any men in the mix. We tease the crowd, showing off every move we learned during our never-ending wild days of clubbing. After a while, I feel the fatigue hit my body, needing a minute to rehydrate.
“I’m going to get a drink, you want anything?” I shout in Imogen’s ear. She shakes her head, keeping her eyes on the brown-haired cutie in front of her. He’s clearly some kind of businessman, wearing a classy dress shirt and black jeans. Way too clean cut for my taste. But she has been ogling him for a while now.
“Have fun.” I shoot her a coy smile before I move back to the bar and find myself an empty spot. I take a seat on one of the high bar stools before lifting my hand in the air to order a drink. The bartender saunters my way with an interested smile until he suddenly turns around and helps someone else. I feel a hand on the small of my back, instantly making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I don’t have to look up to know who he is. I know just by feeling his touch. The hand is practically burning through my skin, and my panties feel heavier within seconds. I take a deep breath, doing my best to keep myself together, trying not the slide out of my seat, before I look up at him through my lashes. His eyes are just as intimidating up close as they were twenty yards away. And so beautiful and hypnotizing, I could easily get lost in them. My witty attitude is nowhere to be found, overwhelmed by the beauty of this man. His hand presses firmly and possessively against my body, and I can’t help giving him a smile.
I’m too drunk to play hard to get.
“Two bourbons, please.” He lifts two fingers in the air, without moving his gaze away from me. His eyes narrow a bit, and a cocky grin appears on his face. “Time for that drink, baby girl.”
Callie
Present Day
Day three being at the mercy of the Carrillo brothers.
I let the hot water caress my tense body as I lower myself into the stunning, square tub. Four people could easily fit in here, which makes me feel even tinier than I really am, but it fits right in with the ridiculously big bathroom in general. Next to the tub is a shower that’s the same size, and on the other side of the wall is a his-and-hers sink in the same dark gray marble. I close my eyes, reminiscing about the last few days. After my poor attempt at a
hunger strike, I’m now feeling more at ease with my belly full of breakfast. Or as at ease as I can be, considering I’ve been kidnapped.
What the fuck was I thinking? Not eating. Silly girl.
The tension is slowly leaving my body, and I breathe in deeply.
So now I’m stuck.
On a boat.
Sorry, yacht. With the Carrillo brothers. Liam and Kane fucking Carrillo. These aren’t some random criminals either. These are the Carrillo brothers. They are known to be unpredictable and cruel. Notorious for their partying habits. Well-known playboys. Infamous for their intolerance for people who taunt them. I’ve heard them all, the rumors. The legends. The ‘wild’ stories. But for some reason, no one ever mentioned how fucking hot they are. Like, if I would have met one of these handsome blondies in a club, I would’ve willingly let myself get kidnapped by them.
Uh, newsflash skank-a-licious? You kinda did.
Minus the willing part. That would have required them to have actually asked for my opinion on the matter. Clearly, my opinion is not relevant in this case.
Damn, be careful what you wish for, Callie girl.
I have to admit, it’s harder to think smart and keep my cool when I have those pretty faces staring back at me. I hate those fuckers for keeping me hostage on this floating city, but damn, having breakfast with them was the most thrilling thing that has happened to me in a while.
Of course, that wouldn’t be the case if I hadn’t negotiated some safety. Thank God I did, and thank God Kane agreed with it. Was it really my negotiating that did the trick, though?
Kane Carrillo doesn’t seem like the kind of man who negotiates. It’s confusing as fuck. He is confusing as fuck.
This situation is confusing as fuck.
This morning, he looked at me with a certain look in his eyes. Determination.
The boyish grin that came with it was as arousing as it was frightening.
One moment, it reminded me of all the painful ways he can torture me and how easily he can put a bullet through my brain, since he’s holding all the cards. But the other moment, it made me wonder if he was about to jump me. Like an animal, plotting how he was going to tear up his prey. And fuck me, I want him to tear me apart. The sexual tension is killing me. Before Kane, I hadn’t had sex in a few weeks, so that could be clouding my judgment, but I can’t stop thinking about all the ways he’d set me on fire a few days ago. I want this man to throw me against the wall and take me. Like I’ve wanted since the first time his eyes met mine in that damn elevator.
I should have kept him out of the deal of not wanting to be touched by anyone.
I’m clearly suffering from Stockholm-syndrome.
For sure.
I open my eyes again, and my heart jumps out of my chest when I look at Kane, who is leaning against the sink, taking in my entire body. The pleased look on his face tells me he likes what he is seeing.
When the fuck did he come in?
“Jesus Christ, you son of a bitch. A little privacy would be nice?” I yank the towel off the edge of the tub and cover myself up, even though his grin tells me there is a one hundred percent chance he had been staring at the goods for longer than a few seconds.
He smirks, and I want to smack it off his face.
It’s too damn fucking sexy, and I can’t concentrate on keeping my expression pissed when he’s looking at me like that.
“I actually wanted to take a shower, didn’t know it was occupied.”
“Well, it is, so you can use your own bathroom,” I snap at him.
“I am.”
I look at him in confusion before looking over my shoulder to the door next to the shower. The door that has been locked for three days, the one I had assumed was some kind of closet. The door is now open, and I see a room similar to mine but mirrored. The color tone is darker with a gray rug and gray drapes, and the sheets on his unmade bed are black.
Fuck me. We have adjoining rooms.
That same boyish grin appears on his handsome face, and I feel my eyebrows raise up.
“We have a shared bathroom?” I ask incredulously, tightening the towel in front of my breasts and aching pussy. The soft white fabric is soaking wet, surely hiding everything except for my rock-hard nipples.
“Is that a problem?” he cocks his head to the side, waiting for my response.
“Joint bedrooms, Kane?” I emphasize his name because I need to remind myself he is just a guy. He has no power over me. No matter how often he places himself in my personal space. No matter how much he tries to provoke me. He can’t control me. Not unless I let him.
He just winks and stands there looking like a model.
This man really has no boundaries.
I sigh, trying to push my anger to the back of my head.
“You really are a sick fuck, aren’t you?”
“Why is that, baby girl?” He walks over to the edge of the tub, and out of reflex, I move back, farther out of his reach. He anticipates my move and yanks my legs out of the water, tugging me closer to him. Luckily, I grab the sides of the tub before my head submerges under the water, gasping as my feet rest on his lap. His dark jeans are wet, but he doesn’t seem to care.
“Let me go,” I growl, and in response, he tightens his grip on my ankles. I hold on to the edge of the tub with one hand, doing my best not to give in to his touch, while I keep the towel pressed firmly against my body with the other.
“Are you sure you want me to do that?” he asks with a hungry look on his face as his fingers slowly move up to my calf, making me melt in his hands. His touch is scorching, and it sets me on fire. I part my lips as he moves his fingers farther, all the way to my upper thigh. The area between my legs has developed a heartbeat of its own when his fingers migrate to the inside of my thighs. I hate that I want him. I hate that I melt at his touch. I try to yank my leg back, but it doesn’t move an inch.
“Let me go,” I demand through an insecure breath, sounding even less convincing than the first time. “You said no one would touch me.”
“Without your consent.” He rapidly moves towards me, shocking the hell out of me.
I’m not sure if this is the part where he is going to make me come or make me stop breathing. I’d prefer the first, but like I said, my opinion doesn’t matter. He quickly places his hands under my butt and effortlessly lifts me onto his lap like a rag doll without giving me anytime to process what’s happening. Water splashes over the edges of the tub, soaking the bathroom and his dark jeans, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it at all.
“Dare me. Say no. Tell me to stop,” he whispers, brushing his lips against mine. I blink, trying to wrap my head around what the fuck is happening. My heart is pounding in my chest, and my hands are enjoying the feeling of his hard shoulders beneath them. My legs are straddling his lap with nothing more than a soaking wet towel between us while my hard nipples press against his chest. Being so close to my pussy, I can feel his ready to fuck dick trying to burst out of his wet jeans. My mouth is teased by the small caress of his lips so close to mine. I can feel the warmth of his breath and the way he is holding me is causing my mind to go fuzzy. One arm is circled around my body, keeping me locked in place while the other is fisting my wet hair. His darkened eyes are hypnotizing, urging me to give in, but my mind is telling me to keep my head in the game, because that is all this is.
A game. And I’m in control.
He is fucking with my head, and even though I would love to fuck with his head, I need him out of mine.
He is the enemy.
I cup his face with one hand while still holding the thin, wet fabric between us in place as I gently give him a long, affectionate kiss. Purely for selfish reasons.
I want a new memory of his lips on mine.
He groans against my lips before I feel his tongue at the seam of my mouth, demanding entry. I pull back and look him in the eye before I move my lips to his ear.
“No. Stop,” I emphasize before I jerk my head back.
I lock my eyes with his arctic retinas and shoot him a coy smile. “Now let me go, you sick son of a bitch.”
I push myself away from him, surprise written all over his face.
Like we are right back in that elevator.
He lets me go but grabs my arm firmly as I try to walk away. His grip is forceful and hurts, but I look up in rebellion, anyway.
“Let. Go.” He may be hot as fuck, but no one touches me like this without a fight.
“You have more restraint than I thought. I’m impressed. And I’m not easily impressed.”
“Saying no is easy to an asshole.”
“Your body is betraying your mouth. I know you remember. Or do you need a reminder?” He brings his face closer to mine while his free hand gently rubs a finger through my slick folds, proving his theory. I should feel offended, molested. Instead, I close my eyes for a second and whimper at his touch. When I open them again, that same look of determination is in his eyes, mixed with victory.
He is going to tear me apart.
“You can lie, but your body can’t.” His eyes are narrowed, his lips pressed together. He touches my folds, his fingers moving up and down, and I deserve a medal for keeping my face in a scowl as he continues.
“Just like mine.” He moves his hands to my hips, firmly pressing the bulge in his wet jeans against my body, adding a little pressure to my already throbbing clit. “Liam is a dick, thinking about all the ways he can torture you for being a Reyes,” he whispers, “but all I can think of is how many ways I can make you come.”
His words make me want to jump him. I want to feel him inside me while he takes me on that expensive his-and-hers sink. I want to just see him as the sexy badass I had a one-night stand with. I want this to be a situation where we can agree to ‘no strings attached’ because the sex was too damn good to never experience again. I want this to be the guy I was talking about when Gen and I discussed his bedroom skills over tea and cupcakes at Daisy’s. Giggling and shit about the situation.
Chasing Fire (The Fire Duet Book 1) Page 8