by Julia Sykes
“He didn’t hurt you?” The question left his chest on a low rumble. His tender concern held a possessive edge, and something quivered low in my belly.
I shook my head slightly to reassure him that I was unharmed, but the movement was little more than a tremor that raced through my entire body. His gentle fingers beneath my chin held me locked in place more effectively than if he’d pinned me to the wall with his hands around my wrists. If he’d been aggressive with me, I would’ve resisted. I would’ve defied him, even if I didn’t have a hope of physically overpowering him.
But this intense, tender attention rendered me more powerless than his fists ever could’ve managed. No man had touched me like this in an achingly long time, and my body was starved for the intimate contact.
My gaze dropped to his mouth. Just as he seemed to have lost the ability to resist studying me, I couldn’t find the necessary fear to prevent myself from fixating on the delicious contradiction of his soft lips on his granite face. I focused on the small scar that furrowed his upper lip, fascinated by the mark of violence that only enhanced his sensual appeal rather than marring his features.
“He touched you,” Raúl repeated on a primal growl. Suddenly, his free hand gripped my hip, his long fingers wrapping around the exact spot where Daniel had held me in his unwelcome, lecherous grasp.
Heat flared beneath Raul’s hand, and my body jolted at the lightning strike that sizzled through me. His touch beneath my chin remained achingly gentle, but his grip on my hip flexed tighter, keeping me pinned exactly where he wanted me. His possessive hold seared away the toxic taint of Daniel’s grasping hands, branding me more deeply than the younger man’s violation could’ve ever marked me.
My breath caught in my throat, and a shiver raced over me as my skin tingled with sensual awareness that I thought had been beaten out of me.
My parted lips and quivering body seemed to be Raúl’s undoing. Whatever shred of restraint he still possessed snapped, and his mouth descended on mine.
I opened for him without hesitation, just as starved for him as he was for me. His tongue surged into my mouth in a deep, unrepentant claim. His thick fingers left my chin, sliding up my nape to tangle in my hair. A sharp tug drew a gasp from my chest as thousands of tiny pain points prickled my scalp. Rather than frightening me, his hungry aggression fueled my own, and I tipped my head back to welcome him to take more.
His other hand roved up from my hip, unerringly finding the mark on my breast where Daniel had grabbed me. Rather than pawing at me, he kneaded my flesh in a firm massage that awoke yet another, long-forgotten pleasure zone. My nipples pebbled to hard, needy buds, and I arched into his touch mindlessly. He growled into my mouth, the primal sound rumbling deep inside me to stimulate my core.
His fingers turned harsher, testing how much I would yield to him. Even when his undulating grasp pressed almost deep enough to bruise, I shuddered and arched closer. My nipples tingled against the inside of my bra, feeling wonderfully overstimulated but also needing more of Raúl’s rough handling.
He found the tight peak beneath my dress, and the first brush of his thumb over my sensitive bud drew a soft cry from my chest. Scorching lines of lustful fire shot straight from my nipples to my clit, which pulsed to life in a desperate, aching throb.
Something long and hard prodded at my belly, and remembered fear shadowed my pleasure at the evidence of his erection. I stilled for barely an instant before his fingers closed around my nipple, demanding my full attention. I whimpered and leaned into the sting, allowing the flare of delicious pain to utterly consume me. Dark memories couldn’t haunt me when Raúl refused to release me from his domineering hands. He commanded my body and invaded my mind. The intense intimacy and foreign sense of bliss drew tears to my eyes.
My hand closed around his nape, anchoring him to me. I needed more of this: connection, protection, pleasure. I needed more of him.
He devoured me, not relenting until my head spun. Even when my knees sagged, I tightened my grip on his nape, my fingernails digging in to hold him close.
He didn’t release me, but his kiss slowed. It seemed his hunger had been sated somewhat, and he’d decided to take his time exploring the shape of my lips, testing my receptiveness to soft, languorous caresses and harsher nips of his teeth.
I loved it all. His protectiveness had allowed him to ease past my defenses and crack me wide open. The dark, sensual nature I’d locked away so carefully surged free, overtaking me with the force of a tidal wave; brutal and inescapable.
I tried to push up onto my tiptoes and take more, but another sharp tug on my hair and warning growl forced me to stay exactly where he wanted me. He sampled me at his leisure, and I melted under his unyielding, tender lips.
Unable to do more than he allowed, I panted against his mouth as I touched my tongue to the scar on his lip. He shuddered and pressed his weight down on me, pushing me deeper into the wall until my breasts were trapped almost painfully against his hard chest.
Overwhelmed by the sweet release I found in his arms, the tears that stung the corners of my eyes finally spilled down my cheeks. He stilled when the wet heat met his lips, and his huge body tensed.
He pulled back, but before he could draw away completely, I grabbed at his shirt, desperate to keep him tethered to me.
His dark, heavy brows drew together, hooding his eyes and dulling their luminous glow. “Did I hurt you?”
“No. I…” The words caught in my throat, but my rational mind slowly coalesced in the absence of his kiss. “I’m not hurt. Not at all.”
He hesitated for a moment, his full lips twisted in a frown. Tentatively, he reached for my face. When I didn’t flinch, he gently wiped away my tears. The tender brush of his thumbs over my cheeks intensified the sting in my eyes, and my chest tightened. More tears spilled, hotter and faster.
I’d already betrayed him. My fierce protector might die because of me, but it was too late to stop what I’d put in motion. Carmen’s allies planned to rescue her in just a few hours, and I couldn’t go back on my word. Not when my inaction would condemn her to more torment at her sadistic captor’s hands.
Even if I did try to back out, no one’s safety was guaranteed at this point. Daniel was intent on overthrowing Raúl’s boss. My refusal to cooperate wouldn’t change that. All it would accomplish was keeping Carmen locked away, allowing her to suffer because of my cowardice.
I blinked up at Raúl, struggling to see his rough-hewn face one last time before I fled. Tears blurred my vision, but I could still make out his frown.
“I’m sorry.” My soft, anguished apology was barely more than a whisper.
“You don’t need to be afraid,” he promised on a low rumble. “I’ll keep you safe.”
I nodded numbly, not daring to speak again. The thick lump in my throat would’ve rendered me mute, anyway.
Raúl couldn’t keep me safe. Not anymore. Once he realized my betrayal, he’d hate me forever.
Chapter 2
Raúl
The sight of Marisol’s tears knotted something at the center of my chest. Her distress disturbed me in a way that was entirely unfamiliar and deeply unpleasant.
I’d endured weeks of agonizing self-denial, forcing myself to focus solely on her safety rather than succumbing to my physical desires. In that time, protecting her had become my obsession.
She’d become my obsession: pretty, fragile Marisol. The first pretty, fragile thing I’d ever managed to shelter rather than shatter in my rough, greedy hands.
My jaw ticked, and I swallowed a growl. I should’ve killed Daniel for touching her, for scaring her. If she hadn’t soothed the animal in me with her soft sighs and sweet submission, I probably would’ve gone after him and finished the job.
I’d made an oath, issued an edict: No one touches her.
That slimy little bastard had made me break my promise.
I continued tracing her entrancing features with gentle brushes of my fingertips, atte
mpting to calm her. Everything about her was delicate and enticing, from the gentle slope of her nose to the rosebud perfection of her lush lips. Her heart-shaped face and golden skin enhanced her soft beauty, and when she peeked up at me through her thick, dark lashes, her rich chocolate eyes melted something at the center of my chest.
When I’d first been tasked with guarding my meek hostage, I’d watched her closely to make sure no man harassed her. After my first vicious example of what would happen to anyone who dared to defy my protective claim over her—when I’d murdered a man with my bare hands for trying to molest her—no one had approached her.
But I couldn’t stop watching. My skittish captive was beautiful. Tempting.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t simply take what I wanted. My first and only act of goodness was protecting my vulnerable, lost little lamb. I was the person who kept her safe—the only man who could keep her safe.
Honoring my self-tormenting oath, I hadn’t touched her in the darkest ways I craved. To spare myself further frustration, I’d limited contact to an absolute minimum. Although I’d never allowed myself to do more than brush my hand against hers, the gentle touches always brought a small, cautious smile to her sensual lips.
She never smiled for anyone else. Only for me.
My gut tightened with a new, strange hunger that was more than sexual desire. I liked when she looked at me with those warm, melted chocolate eyes; as though she saw a shred of goodness in me.
I hated the sight of her lovely eyes wet with tears. I tried to stem the flow with gentle strokes of my thumbs, but the tender touch that’d made her open for me like a flower didn’t seem to comfort her. If anything, my continued contact was making her cry harder.
My stomach twisted. I definitely didn’t like that.
Daniel. This was all his fault. Marisol was obviously traumatized by his assault, and our intense kiss had happened immediately after that frightening encounter.
I took a breath and forced myself to release her. Judging by her wild, lustful reaction to my domineering hands on her curvy little body, there was no doubt that she’d been just as swept up in our fiery chemistry as I was. She simply needed space to recover from what’d happened with Daniel.
I didn’t want her to think I was like him. I wouldn’t allow her to regret anything that happened between us.
Because now that I’d felt her melt in my arms, there was no going back. Marisol would be mine.
My fists flexed at the thought of Daniel trying to claim what belonged to me. It wasn’t too late to change my mind about killing the bastard. I could still crush the life out of him. More slowly next time.
She shivered in the absence of my embrace, looking so small and breakable that it took every ounce of my limited control to prevent myself from wrapping my arms around her once again.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, the apology hitching in her throat.
Despite her distress, my tension eased. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” I promised. “You’re safe with me, corderita.”
My little lamb should be terrified of me, but she wasn’t. Against all odds, I’d become her protector. My brutal hands served a purpose that wasn’t simply the selfish destruction of whatever and whoever stood in the way of what I wanted: money, power, security.
I wanted Marisol, but I wouldn’t destroy her. I’d never allow anyone to harm her.
Daniel Vera was as good as dead.
Daniel was late. Or maybe he’d simply decided not to come to the meeting Stefano had called. Maybe the arrogant little shit had finally learned he wasn’t entitled to whatever he wanted.
My fists clenched at the memory of his hands on Marisol, groping and violating. Defiling.
She’d been too distressed for me to murder him in front of her, but I would finish the job somewhere out of her sight; somewhere I could take my time meting out my retribution.
I needed to let Stefano know what I planned before I could act, but I doubted the cartel kingpin would object. Daniel irritated Stefano with his arrogance and stupidity. The kid was already one more insult away from death, anyway.
His family might command money and resources that were valuable to the cartel, but Stefano Duarte hadn’t taken his place as king by allowing slights to go unpunished.
When Carlos Vera died from a heart attack three months ago, Daniel had inherited his father’s wealth. The bastard didn’t yet understand that wealth didn’t necessarily give him power. He’d automatically taken his father’s place at the head of his family, stepping into Stefano Duarte’s inner circle as a matter of birthright.
But Stefano had come from nothing. I’d come from nothing. Power was commanded by ruthless men who took it for themselves. Soft, pampered princes like Daniel either learned that quickly or died.
Stefano let out a calculated sigh. The quiet sound of disappointment immediately captured the attention of every man in the room. “I’d hoped Daniel would come to understand the importance of respect, especially after our recent conversation,” he lamented to no one in particular, swirling the mezcal in his heavy crystal glass. He leaned back in his black leather, wingback armchair, occupying the seat like a throne.
Every nuance of his expressions and mannerisms was carefully crafted to utterly command and control the people around him. He was the scariest fucker I’d ever met. Not because he was physically intimidating, but because he was cleverer and colder than anyone I knew.
He’d clawed and scraped his way to power, and I’d been with him every step of the way. I would never be the smartest man in the room, but I didn’t have to be. Stefano wasn’t exactly my boss—I didn’t take orders from him—but supporting him had made me rich and powerful in my own right. I didn’t see any reason for that to change. His sociopathic nature made him incapable of having friends, but I was his staunchest ally.
I cleared my throat, drawing his attention. His black, shark-like eyes cut to mine, quick and incisive. I met his stare without flinching. The other three men sharing the lavish study with us wouldn’t have dared to hold Stefano’s direct, cold gaze. But he needed me almost as much as I needed him, and he knew better than to expect deference from me.
If I ever chose to turn on him, his control over the cartel would be shaken. He was too smart to risk that, especially now. We’d conquered the Ronaldo cartel and claimed their territory weeks ago. Stefano had taken Carmen Ronaldo as his personal trophy, but the survivors in her organization were vying to pick up the pieces. They threatened the stability of our expanded empire.
My unwavering support was more crucial to Stefano than ever.
“Daniel might be too unwell to attend this meeting.” I struggled to loosen my jaw and mimic Stefano’s nonchalant posture. I never managed to match his cool composure, but usually, that suited him just fine. My short temper and brutal strength made me an ideal distraction. Men kept their wary attention on me and forgot to watch Stefano, who was a much more subtle threat.
I rolled some of the lingering tension from my shoulders and met his hard eyes with a significant stare of my own. “I saw Daniel this morning, and I think there’s something wrong with his throat. He was having trouble breathing.”
Stefano cocked his head and drew his brows together, as though he was worrying over Daniel’s health. But he didn’t so much as blink, and his cold black gaze remained firmly fixed on me. “I wasn’t aware that Daniel was feeling unwell. You should have said something sooner. We wouldn’t have been left waiting, and our meeting would be that much closer to finishing.” He cracked what appeared to be a sly grin, but there wasn’t an ounce of joy behind it; the white flash of his teeth was pure, predatory threat. “I have more entertaining places I’d like to be, and I’m sure you gentlemen do, too.”
I was certain he’d find Carmen’s company more entertaining. Ever since he’d captured the rival cartel’s princess, he’d become strangely preoccupied with her. He’d neglected his usual raucous parties in favor of toying with her in the privacy
of his penthouse.
If Stefano were a normal man, I’d say he was behaving like a possessive, jealous lover. A few times, he’d made shows of violent rage when coming to Carmen’s defense. In fact, he’d recently beaten Daniel because the little shit had called Carmen a whore and tried to grope her.
“Daniel is sick,” I announced bluntly. “It’s better if he’s not here. You know he can’t keep his hands to himself.”
Stefano nodded in easy agreement, but his fingers briefly clenched to fists before releasing. He definitely hadn’t forgotten about Daniel’s insult to Carmen.
“I trust your judgment.” He maintained his casual bearing, but the words were heavy.
He was much more skilled and subtle at political maneuvering than I would ever be, but I got the message. He wouldn’t stand in my way if I wanted to kill Daniel.
His black eyes swept over our allies, his lips twisting in a small, affected frown. “Arturo isn’t usually late. Can we expect him to join us, or is he sick, too?” His gaze snapped back to mine, quick and sharp despite his slow drawl.
While I wasn’t entirely surprised that Daniel was too much of a coward to show his face, I’d expected Arturo Flores to join us. Arturo didn’t command as much wealth as the brat, but he was older and had consistently supported Stefano ever since he’d established himself as king—twelve years of loyalty.
Arturo had been throwing his weight around a little in the last few weeks, testing Stefano’s control over the cartel. It wasn’t good that he hadn’t showed. He’d chosen not to come when his boss called.
The insult couldn’t go unpunished. It was a dangerous time for Stefano to eliminate a powerful associate—he needed his oldest allies to stand firm behind him more than ever. That meant I’d have to handle it.
“I’ll go check in on Arturo once we’re done here,” I offered. “Maybe he has the same illness as Daniel.”