I stopped talking because Hector’s hands moved away from my hip and they closed around my waist, tight. So tight, his fingers were digging in and that got my attention.
He’d straightened and those black eyes I told the tattoo artist about were intense, beyond intense, they were burning right into me.
“How f**ked up are you?” he asked.
I thought this was a strange question so my head tilted to the side and I asked back, “What?”
He let me go but only so he could pull off his t-shirt and he did this fast.
At the sight of his chest, my breath left me in a whoosh.
“How f**ked up are you?” he repeated, unclipped his gun from his belt and threw it on the nightstand, all the while looking at me. “Sadie, f**ked up. Shitfaced. Trashed. Loaded. Drunk. How f**ked up are you?”
I was still confused, watching him, feeling his heat, his intensity and something hungry about him. Seriously hungry. Therefore, I was watching him, confused, yet getting turned on at the same time.
Way turned on.
He leaned down and pulled off his boots, sending them, in turn, sailing across the room.
Then he hands came back to me, his thumbs went into my underwear, hooking into the sides, then he shoved them down until they fell to my ankles.
Oh my God.
Did he just do that?
“Sadie, answer me.”
“Um, on a scale of one to ten?” I asked, unsure how to answer, unsure what to do, not even sure I still remembered how to breathe.
He lifted me up, I let out a surprised gasp and my arms and legs wrapped around him.
“What are you doing?” I cried.
“You put my mark on you. To show my appreciation, I’m gonna f**k you until you scream my name and I wanna make sure you remember it. Now, how f**kin’ drunk are you?”
My heart was beating wildly, my belly had melted to oblivion and I was pretty certain sure I’d had a mini-orgasm.
What I wasn’t was drunk, not anymore.
“I’m not drunk anymore.”
“Good.” He put a knee to the bed but didn’t put me down. “Now, mamita, where the tat is, I can’t be on top so you got two choices, either you ride me or I get creative. Your choice but chose now.”
I swallowed.
“Hector –” I started.
He cut me off, “Now.”
Oh my.
He meant business.
And I liked his business.
So, I whispered, “Creative.”
He grinned, slow and sweet.