by Julia Sykes
Suddenly, he released me from his gaze, and his eyes flicked downward. His nostrils flared. I glanced down and realized that he had focused on my hardened nipples. I hadn’t bothered to put on a bra that day because I hadn’t expected to leave the solitude of the bedroom.
I shifted under his inspection, embarrassment and arousal mingling within me. My body most definitely liked his attention, even though my alcohol-soaked brain was still hesitant.
Freaking tequila.
His head jerked to the side as though to tear his eyes away, and he stood abruptly. Without looking at me, he grasped the comforter and pulled it up so it covered my torso. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed.
“I’ll be right back,” he muttered before turning to leave.
I nodded compliantly and closed my eyes, trying to clear the fog from my mind. I was vaguely aware of Ana Lucia and Miguel saying their goodbyes, and then the apartment door locked behind them.
“Drink this.” My eyes snapped open at his firm order. I hadn’t heard him approach. Then again, my senses were dulled. Only, all of them seemed to sharpen as they honed on him. I breathed in his masculine scent, and the heat between my legs pulsed.
Doing my best to ignore the sensation, I reached for the glass of water he offered me. I sat up to drink, and the covers fell away. Santiago’s eyes drifted to my breasts again, but he quickly redirected his gaze to my face. Our fingers brushed as I took the glass from him. It was the first time we had physical contact since he had held me down when I tried to escape. The memory of his firm refusal to allow me to fight him further stirred the lust within me. I craved for him to hold me down again, to feel his weight pressing me into the mattress.
I groaned inwardly. This was so messed up. But my body didn’t seem to care. I snatched the glass away from him to escape the heat of his hand, causing some of the water to slosh over the sides. As I gulped it down, I resolved to think with my brain rather than my lady parts. My mind instantly turned to my conversation with Ana Lucia.
“Ana says you’re a good man.” My words slurred only slightly. “But how do I know I can trust you? You say a marriage will be temporary, but how do I know you’re not lying about that?”
His eyes widened with surprise. “So you’re seriously considering it?”
“I don’t know,” I wavered. “Maybe. I know you won’t hurt me, but I hate what you are. I don’t want to marry a gangster.”
“Is that really what you think of me? Is that all I am to you?”
I looked away from his fierce eyes. “I don’t know,” I admitted, drunkenness bringing out my honesty as well as lust. “Ana told me you joined the Kings because you lost your family. Is that true?” I chanced a glance back up at him. He was frowning, but his expression was contemplative.
“I want you to be able to trust me, Charlotte, so I’ll be honest with you,” he said after a moment of silence. “My parents both died when I was in my late teens. I don’t have any brothers or sisters, and my extended family is still in Puerto Rico.” He paused again, his eyes searching my face before continuing. “I was married. I have a daughter. But my wife divorced me two years ago and made sure I could never see my daughter again. I had no one, and I was full of anger. I left Miami and came to New York.”
“And that’s when you joined the Kings?” I asked, my voice quiet.
“Not long after that, yes. You have to understand. It’s not something I thought I wanted. I just sort of fell into it, and then I realized I didn’t want to leave my new brothers.”
My hand covered his as though of its own accord. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. I didn’t know what else to say. Ana had been right. Javier hadn’t sought out the Kings because he loved violence and power. He had been lonely and vulnerable. It wasn’t enough for me to condone his choice, but I could no longer bring myself to hate him for it.
His hand turned so that our palms pressed together, and his fingers twined through mine.
“Thank you, muñequita.” The words were husky. I loved the way his accent caressed that word.
“What does it mean? Muñequita?” I asked.
He smiled at me softly, and my insides melted a little bit, calling my attention back to the heat at my core.
“It means ‘little doll.’”
I blinked. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. “Why do you call me that?”
“It’s a compliment,” he assured me. “It means you’re beautiful. You’re so small and fragile. It makes me want to protect you from everything your father is doing to you. You don’t deserve this, Charlotte. All I want is to keep you safe. I wouldn’t ask you to marry me if it weren’t the only way I could think of to ensure your safety. I don’t want you to be unhappy, and I don’t like coercing you to do something you don’t want. Please, just trust me. I’m not lying when I say it won’t be permanent.”
His thumb stroked across the inside of my wrist in a soothing motion, and my pulse jumped under his touch. His smile widened, showing his perfect white teeth. They stood out in contrast to his tanned skin. Even though the lines of his face were sharp, his skin looked velvety smooth. Without really thinking about it, I reached out and brushed my fingertips against his cheek, trailing them down to the rough stubble that covered his jaw.
He gripped my wrist in warning. “Don’t,” he ordered. But he didn’t pull away. His eyes were black again, his pupils dilated. I recognized the signs of lust. My own rose up in response, and the pulsing between my legs increased. I loved the feel of his long fingers encircling my wrist. I had never felt so small before; I spent most of my time angsting about being too big. But Javier made me feel delicate.
Muñequita. The endearment made me feel cherished. In our first days together, I had enjoyed the comfort of his arms around me. Now I wanted more of that sweet connection.
My eyes remained locked on his as I cupped his cheek and closed the distance between us. The touch of my lips on his was tentative, hesitant. He was still against me for a moment, but then he growled and crushed his lips to mine. I let out a little gasp of surprise and tried to pull away. His fingers tightened around my wrist in reprimand, and his other hand closed around the back of my neck, sliding up into my hair. He twined it around his fingers and clenched them into a fist. The sharp tug on my hair awoke a delicious tingling on my scalp. An answering shower of sparks crackled through my sex.
I abandoned myself to the lust that flooded me, and I wasn’t at all sure if it was the alcohol that was making me succumb to him. His tongue traced the line of my lower lip. When I didn’t open for him, he sucked it into his mouth and nipped at it. My clit pulsed in time with the little bite of pain, and my lips parted to allow him in.
As his tongue invaded my mouth, he pulled at my hair, guiding me down onto my back. His weight settled over me, pinning me down. He released my hair to grip my jaw, tilting my head back so he could kiss me more deeply. I moaned into him, and my hands closed around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.
A low, warning sound rumbled up his throat, and he caught my hands with his. In one sharp movement, he shoved them down against the mattress, holding them on either side of my head. His palms pressed against mine, trapping me beneath him. I was lost in the feel of him; the hypnotic rhythm of his tongue, his heady scent, his rippling muscles. They flexed against my chest as he easily manhandled me. The sensation made me acutely aware of the ache in my breasts, and I arched up into him, greedily rubbing my nipples against his hard chest. My clit pulsed almost painfully in response, making the stimulation sweet torture. I whined and rotated my hips against his, and I could feel the thick length of him straining against his jeans. Feminine satisfaction flooded me at the knowledge of his arousal. I had never wanted anyone as badly as I craved him in that moment. Not even when I drunkenly made out with my Bio Lab partner on another tequila-soaked night. Nothing had ever come close to this yearning.
He pulled his lips from mine to allow me to gasp in air.
“Javier,”
I breathed his name and writhed beneath him, wanting more.
His eyes clouded over, and he let out a soft groan as he sat up, putting distance between us. He released his hold on my hands, and I reached out for him. He firmly pressed them back against the bed.
“No, Charlotte.” He pulled away again, but I remained where he had placed me.
“Why?” I asked, almost petulantly.
His lips twisted with regret. “You’re drunk. This isn’t right. I can’t do this to you. I won’t.”
I gave him a sly smile. “If I agree to marry you, will you kiss me again?”
His jaw tightened, and he shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re saying. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
Hurt flooded my chest at his rejection. No one had ever taken me so high, and now he was sending me crashing down. My eyes slid away from his as shame-filled tears burned behind them. God, I was a hot, drunk mess. Of course Javier didn’t want me like this. Hell, I shouldn’t want him at all.
“Okay,” I agreed shakily.
“Goodnight, muñequita.”
Then he was gone. This time, he didn’t lock the door behind him. I was grateful for that. Even if it was wrong, the kiss had changed something between us. Or maybe it was his admission about his need for a family. He was human, vulnerable. And I could trust him.
Although my body was still sexually frustrated, that knowledge soothed me as I fell into a heavy, alcohol-induced sleep.
Chapter 9
“How are you feeling?” Santiago spoke softly, but his accented voice seemed to reverberate through my skull. I groaned and folded the pillow over my head to block out the noise. I hadn’t been sleeping, but lying perfectly still with my eyes closed seemed the best course of action.
“That bad, huh?” I could detect a note of amusement in the words. His fingers closed around mine, firmly pulling them free from where they clutched the pillow against my ears. “Come on, drink this.”
I peeled my sandpaper lids back from my eyes and glared up at him. He was holding a bottle full of deep green liquid masquerading as juice. It looked disgusting.
“Go away,” I mumbled.
His low chuckle rattled through my head, and I winced.
“It’ll make you feel better. I promise.” Without waiting for my assent, he wrapped his arm around my upper back and gently guided me up into a sitting position. I closed my eyes as the world spun, and then the cool lip of the bottle was at my mouth. “Drink.” It was a command this time.
God, he was so bossy. My lips parted, and the weird drink coated my tongue. It was every bit as gross as it looked. I made a sound of protest, but he didn’t relent. He held it to my mouth until I had drained the last of it.
“That’s better,” he said approvingly. “Here.” He picked up a glass of orange juice from the bedside table. I snatched it from him and gratefully gulped it down, washing away the lingering flavor of the green drink. When I was finished, I glowered at him for forcing the nasty thing down my throat. But my head wasn’t spinning quite as fast anymore.
As physical discomfort faded, my mind turned to other concerns. The warmth of his supporting arm behind my back felt far too sweet. It reminded me of the heat that had flooded me at his touch the night before.
I closed my eyes again and fought back another groan. Oh, god. I had kissed Santiago. And it had been incredibly hot. Even just thinking about it sent an echo of desire shivering through me, despite how crappy I felt.
When I opened my eyes again, I found him frowning slightly. “Does your head still hurt? It should pass in an hour or so.”
I cut my eyes away from him, my cheeks burning. “I feel better. Thanks.”
More memories flooded to the fore. “If I agree to marry you, will you kiss me again?” How pathetic was I? And how could I have even considered accepting his proposal? Between Ana Lucia’s kind words and the traitorous tequila, I had somehow thought it was a logical solution to my problems. And then Javier had opened up to me about his family. I remembered thinking I could trust him.
Idiot. That had been the tequila melting my mind. It had made me so damn horny, too. I should have remembered that before I accepted it from Ana. I had a history of poor life choices when it came to tequila. It had been what I was drinking on the night I gave away my virginity to a stranger. If it could make me do that, of course it could make me kiss Santiago. Despite all my doubts about him, I couldn’t deny I had been attracted to him from the very beginning.
“We should talk about last night,” he said tentatively.
I gave a sharp shake of my head, and instantly regretted it when my brain pounded against my skull. “I’d rather not,” I forced out through gritted teeth.
He sighed. “As much as I would like to pretend it didn’t happen, we can’t ignore it.”
I blinked up at him, hurt knifing through my gut. He wanted to forget about our kiss? I might be ashamed of myself, but I didn’t think I regretted it. How could I regret the best kiss of my life?
“It was wrong of me to take advantage of you,” he continued, his voice tight. “I’m sorry.”
I seemed to recall that I was the one who had leaned into him to initiate the kiss, not the other way around. My embarrassment increased, and my cheeks flamed.
“It’s okay,” I said stupidly, at a loss for anything to say other than a generic social nicety.
His lips pursed. “No, it’s not. But it won’t happen again. I promise. If you marry me, I won’t expect that from you. You have to know that.”
“I’m not marrying you,” I said quickly. I might have wavered in my drunkenness, but my willpower returned along with my sobriety. I was still processing the fact that I had kissed him. I wasn’t ready to think about my stupid agreement to his terms. How could I when it was so obvious I hadn’t been in my right mind the night before?
He frowned. “I wish you would agree, Charlotte. I don’t like keeping you here.”
“I just need time to think,” I said wearily. “I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly last night.”
He was silent for a moment, and I shifted under his disappointed gaze. “Okay. I’m going out for a while. We talked about trust last night. I want to prove to you that you can trust me. I’m not going to lock you in today. But I’m trusting you not to leave. I think you understand the danger you’ll be in if you do.” His dark chocolate eyes regarded me earnestly. “Please don’t risk yourself. You’ll be safe here, but I won’t imprison you any longer.”
“So I can go back to class?” I asked hopefully.
“I wouldn’t advise it. Not without me walking beside you. I’m asking you to make the choice to stay here. Just like it’s your choice to accept my proposal. You can trust me, Charlotte. I want you to see that.”
Why was he making it so difficult for me to hate him? A little part of me whispered that I could trust him. And if that was true, then I could trust him to end our arrangement. The marriage would be temporary, and he wouldn’t expect anything from me beyond signing the necessary papers and wearing a ring. A small, irrational twinge of regret twisted my heart at the thought that he didn’t want me physically. Because after that scorching kiss, I couldn’t pretend I didn’t want him.
“Okay,” I agreed softly. “I’ll stay here. And I’ll have an answer for you when you come back.” He was allowing me to choose, and it was time for me to make my decision. I had an uneasy feeling I already knew my answer. I was teetering on the edge of acceptance. And how insane was that?
I pushed it from my mind. I would think about it more when my head was no longer pounding.
“Good. Come on. I’ll make you breakfast before I go.”
“I’m not hungry.” I didn’t think my stomach could handle food just then.
“You will eat, Charlotte.” At times, he was all tenderness and charm, but now he was in full-on bossy mode. It would have annoyed me if it weren’t for the fact that every time he issued a decree it was for my own benefit.
I let out a little exasperated huff, but I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. “Okay. I’m going to take a quick shower. I’ll be out in fifteen.”
“Good girl,” he said with approval. I rolled my eyes at him, but the praise awoke a warm glow in my chest. I wasn’t accustomed to praise from men, and I couldn’t deny it was kind of nice. He was kind of nice. Damn him.
Between the shower and the delicious bacon Javier prepared for me, I was feeling much better by the time he left the apartment. Relieved to be free of my prison, I settled myself down on the couch in the living room. It was worn and threadbare, and I wasn’t sure how he had managed to get any sleep on the tattered thing. I felt a pang of guilt for stealing his bed from him.
I didn’t steal it. He didn’t exactly give me a choice in the matter. I would have much preferred my tiny bed in the room I shared with Rachel.
Rachel. For the first time in days, I finally had access to my phone and the internet. I found dozens of increasingly concerned texts from my roommate, and one panicked facebook message from the night before. Taking a deep breath, I typed out a hasty reply.
I’m okay, Rach. I have the flu, and Javier’s been taking care of me. I didn’t want to get you sick. I left my charger in our room, and my phone’s been dead. Javier just got me a new one. Sorry I missed your messages. Don’t worry about me! I’ll see you soon. Promise.
Love love,
Char xoxo
There. That was plausible. It made me sound like a crappy friend who was overly-obsessed with her new boyfriend, but at least it would diffuse the situation. I would rather have Rachel mad at me than worried about me.
I also had several texts from Derek that I had to deal with. Lying to him would be more difficult. He knew I was in a shitty situation, and excuses about being sick wouldn’t cut it. After a few minutes, I decided on a vaguely-worded text.