the moan fighting to break free. It doesn’t work. The most delicious little mewl slips through, and I follow the tremble of her mouth. My hunger is unhidden, and I lick my own while tightening my hold. “I’m here, and cornering the daughter of Colombia’s president inside of a bar owned by her fiancé—”
“Don’t call him that,” Solimar whimpers, hands shaking while lowering her eyes. Diosito, please get me out of here. Don’t let my attraction control my actions. It’s a whisper under her breath, almost too low to hear, but I do.
Her confession burns me.
Those words seal her fate.
“Is it a lie?” Brow arched, I dig my fingers into her flesh, leaving behind what I know will be a bruise. My mark. The first of many, because Solimar likes my rough and possessive touch—to be manhandled. The way she gasps and slowly gyrates against my hardness shows me as much. “Does he own you?”
The thought of her belonging to anyone doesn’t sit well with me. It angers me. Turns the blood within my veins into molten lava. What is it about you, Solimar?
“No, it’s not…” at her words, my jaw ticks but I don’t interrupt “…not all is as it seems.”
When it comes to her family, it never is.
“You’re right about that, Miss Quintero.” Grey eyes focus once again on my lips, following their movements. I shouldn’t like the way it makes me feel. The temptation she presents or the adrenaline knowing who she is brings forth. “Many truths hide behind angelic veils.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’ll be seeing me again, and soon.”
“That can’t and won’t happen.”
Before Solimar’s next intake of breath, I flip her around and tip her face up with two fingers. It’s a firm hold but not painful as my eyes bore into hers, lips a hair’s breadth from hers. “I wasn’t asking, Preciosa. This isn’t a negotiation.”
“My father—”
“Will not be an excuse to hide from me.”
“Why are you here?” she whispers, eyes shifting toward the door as if expecting it to open at any moment. “What do you want from me?”
“All will be explained, but not here.” Releasing her chin, I wrap my hand around Solimar’s neck, fingers flexing as she swallows hard—arches against the sink, head tilted back, but doesn’t tell me to move or let go. I skim up her ribs and the side of her breast before curling the ends of her dark hair between the digits of my other hand. One forceful tug and she hisses, the slight sting making her shiver. “You will come to me when I call. You will never deny me your presence.” Her lips part, the rebuttal sitting on the tip of her tongue, but the words don’t come out as I silence her protest with a nip to the corner of her mouth and pull back. Daring her to defy me. “Is that understood?”
“I’m not a pawn.”
“And I’m not a patient man.”
“Be reasonable.”
“You won’t deny me.”
“Alejandro, I want no part in your war against my family.”
A chuckle leaves me and I release her, taking a few steps back. “Follow directions, Preciosa. That’s all you need to do to survive.”
“I—”
“Will not disappoint me.” With that, I turn around and walk to the door. Hand on the handle, I turn and look back at her. From head to toe, I memorize her just like this. Like the deceptive angel she is. “Go back out and have fun with your friends, Solimar. Don’t tell anyone. Don’t let them know that I’ll be watching.”
For a few beats, she doesn’t move, her eyes frozen on mine, and I feel a pang in my chest. I don’t like this emotion bubbling within—her distress hits me in the chest, and all I want to do is comfort her. Pull her against me. Soon.
Her lips part; there are things she wants to say but thinks better of it and nods. Solimar walks to me, only stopping once her hand lays over mine on the door handle. Those eyes, a gorgeous grey, stare at me for a minute.
She’s studying me, her sweet little pants fanning across my chin and lips.
“Go on, Miss Quintero.” Turning the door’s fixture, I open it and leave just enough space for her to pass. “Let’s not make things any more difficult than what they are.”
“Any more and it might break me,” she whispers under her breath, but I hear it loud and clear as if she shouted it from the rooftops. Our attraction is mutual, a complication