Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Paralyzed silence.
Camila sighed. “I asked a question.”
“Yes.” Yessica ground her teeth. “We’re clear.”
“Cool.” She gave them a cordial smile. “Chau pues!”
She turned and headed toward him, her steps lighter, easier. As she closed the distance, however, jealousy tried to work its way into her resolve. She pushed it back with the reminder that she’d fucked countless men, causing Matias the same amount of pain.
When she reached his table, she moved toward the empty chair, but he gripped her arm and pulled her onto his lap.
“Do I want to know what that was about?” He brushed his lips against her ear and nibbled.
Tate angled toward Nico, distracted by whatever was displayed on Nico’s phone.
“No more gifts for Yessica.” She twisted to look at Matias.
“I don’t shop for her.” His eyes glimmered. “I receive all kinds of shit when I travel to the States. Presents from my business partners. I give her the girly stuff to divide among the whores.”
Relief settled through her. “Well, maybe just give that stuff to a homeless person or something.”
“I can do that.” He nuzzled her neck. “What else?”
“They won’t be propositioning you anymore. Hope your ego can handle that.”
“I’ll live.” He nipped the skin beneath her ear.
She shivered with pleasure. “What did you announce this morning?”
“I briefed my lieutenants on your status and had them run the update down their chains of command. Everyone who stays here now knows you’re my equal.”
“Your equal?” Her heart slammed against her rib cage.
“My life,” he said matter-of-factly.
A wave of heat gathered between her legs. As significant as his statement was, it also carried an undertone of need. Every interaction he shared with her was sexual in its delivery. He knew how to arouse her with his growly timbre, a look in his eyes, a caress of his breath against her skin. He didn’t even have to touch her to satisfy her. It was his demanding hunger—that of a confident, dominant man—that she responded to, lifting her face to the rumble of his voice, offering herself to his desires.
She held her mouth against his, touching, not touching. Teasing. “I have two requests.”
“I’m listening,” he breathed against her lips.
“I want…” She touched her throat. “I want my collar back. Or better yet, I want something permanent and comfortable and ours.”
His body went hard a millisecond before he gripped her neck and captured her mouth with his. The kiss was potently seductive, possessive, and consuming, stealing her air and awakening every cell in her body.
Too soon, he pulled back, breathing heavily. “The other request?”
“I want to see the closet.”
MATIAS LED CAMILA INTO THE CLOSET of their private suite and angled her in front of the retinal scanner. His breaths quickened as the lock disengaged. What waited behind that door, the pieces he’d been holding back from her, were the knots of guilt he’d carried for years.
“I’m nervous about this.” He stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her chest, kissing her shoulder and savoring the feminine scent of her, bathed in the clean bite of citrus and lavender. “I’m not one of the good guys. I’ve done things for which there might be no forgiveness.”
“I disagree. You’ve eliminated bad guys far worse than yourself for over a decade.” She touched his inked forearm and turned her neck to press her lips against his bicep.
“Hold on to that thought for the next few minutes.” He let go and nudged her through the doorway.
She looked up at the ceiling as motion lights flicked on then turned in a circle, scanning the shelves of the small second closet. “Boxes? Plain, non-threatening cardboard. Definitely not what I expected.”
He went to the top shelf on the right and pulled down his two favorite boxes.
“We’ll start with these.” He passed her one and carried the other into the bedroom.
They placed the closed boxes on the bed, and he stepped back, hands in the pockets of his jeans.
“Open them.” His pulse accelerated, and a damp mist formed on his brow.
She flashed him a concerned look and opened the first box. Gasping, she removed picture frames filled with her and him, her and her sister, Lucia, and even photos of the old stray dog, Rambo. The citrus grove was the backdrop in most of the images.
“How did you get these?” Her hands trembled as she flipped through bundles of loose pictures.
He’d grabbed what he could that awful night, leaving behind the photos that included her parents. “There’s more.”
Eyes glistening, she darted to the second box and pulled out a slingshot fork from an orange tree, her favorite raggedy doll as a child, and his denim jacket—the one she’d stolen from him when she was fourteen and refused to return.
His heart hammered in his chest. There were a dozen more boxes of memorabilia in the closet. He’d gone through them so many times over the past eleven years he knew the contents by rote. He used to think he’d found comfort in them on his loneliest nights, but looking back now, he realized those memories had only made him lonelier.