“It is,” Valeria blurted, “but my daughter comes first for me ... always. No exceptions, and so if something about you might put her in danger, even unknowingly, then I have to handle that. Surely, you can understand.”
Chris’s throat jumped at her words, like maybe he swallowed something back before he muttered, “Hurting her—accidentally, or not—is the last thing on my mind, trust that.”
“Still, what did you say to her?”
“Val—”
“I want you to tell me.”
His gaze darted away, but his tone came out low when he said, “I asked her about Haven ... and New York. I needed to give her something she understood. Something that would resonate with her, right, because she needs to believe I’m not like the rest of the people here. I’m different. She misses Haven and her school in New York. She doesn’t like you crying a lot, or that her father hurts you.”
That was not what Valeria expected. A mixture of things had a lump growing in her throat, the emotions lodging there to take her breath away, and make her want to sob at the same time. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, and she clenched her fists into tight balls at her sides.
The mention of Haven—her only friend they forced her to leave behind when Jorge found her—made her emotional, but the rest just drove the knife in deeper, and twisted until everything was pain.
“You’re aware Haven got married,” Chris added, “to Andino Marcello since you were there. That’s who hired me. To come here, and figure out a way to get you the fuck out of here, in case you wondered. That’s why I’m here.”
God.
That wasn’t possible.
She didn’t dare say it though, because a brief flutter of hope danced through her heart, swelling to epic proportions, and threatened to drown her with the emotion. It had been so goddamn long since she felt anything akin to hope. How sad was that?
“She told me you’re unhappy,” Chris murmured. “Your daughter, I mean.”
“Don’t put her in danger by asking—”
“You don’t give her enough credit, Val. She is young, but she is not stupid.”
Valeria met his gaze, unsure and wary. “You made her a promise. I heard you say that. What was it?”
His grin deepened. “I shouldn’t tell. I made a pinky promise—”
“Stop it.”
“Relax,” he said, one of his hands coming up to stroke the line of her jaw with his thumb and forefinger. The soft touch made her sigh and tilt her head into his hand a little more, not that she had any business doing that at all. “I promised you would be happy soon, and no one would hurt you. All she wants is for her mom to be happy again, okay?”
Fuck him.
For doing that, and telling her, even if she asked. For giving her hope.
A tear fell from the corner of Valeria’s eye, but Chris quickly wiped it away before it got very far. He did the same for the other side of her face when she blinked, and more tears threatened to fall.
“Why did you do that in the stables ... kiss me, I mean?”
“Not sure,” Chris murmured, his thumb sweeping her cheekbone as he spoke. “It’s not something I was supposed to do. I asked first, you nodded.”
“I did,” she agreed softly, “although I’m not sure why.”
“Then, we’re in the same position.”
And what a position.
“Not part of the job, then?”
His stare snapped down to her mouth. “No. I just ...”
“What? Because I don’t think you understand how dangerous this is for me.”
“I do, Val. I promise I do, and if you don’t—or didn’t—want me to do that, all you have to do is say.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, her back straightening at the directness of his tone. “I don’t, no.”
Chris frowned. “What?”
“Get a say. About sex. Or I never have, and I realized you’re right, too.”
His hands dropped to her thighs overtop the skirt of her dress, and his fingers flexed gently. As supportive as it seemed, his silent acknowledgement of her truth, it also reminded her all he had to do was push up her dress around her thighs, spread her wide, and he would have her.
She wanted it.
“Sex ... anything like it,” she whispered, “has always been used against me, and I’ve never wanted someone else before. Not him, not a stranger—no one.”
“Except me,” he murmured.
Valeria peeked up at him through her lashes, only then realizing she had been staring at the corded band of muscles lining his broad shoulders, and the way his throat jumped when his gaze dropped to her lips.
Desire.
Lust..
Always the possession; the thing Jorge won. Used because her husband wanted to. Coveted for his pride.
Men around her husband desired her for their own selfish reasons or gains. Because they saw her as the perfect cartel wife, their belief they too would be a king with a queen they handpicked and demanded. Or to others because they believed her unworthy of her status after running—a traitor to break.
And yet ...
“No one has ever looked at me the way you are right now,” she said, her voice almost unrecognizable to herself with the heat she found there. “I’ve never been wanted—not like this.”
“And you never wanted—until now.”
That’s why this had seemed so confusing to her. From the walk around the pool with an almost flirting, but very charming man, to the kiss in the stables had all seemed foreign to her in a way. She played a game she had never needed the rules to before now.
“Val,” he said, tone thick.
“Yeah?”
Chris leaned in close enough so if she wanted—because he had made it clear this was on her terms, she had the say—moving forward would let her capture his kiss. His lips quirked up at the edges, sexy as ever, when he told her, “Has a man never loved your body the way it deserves to be, sweetheart?”
God.
If it were possible, she felt his voice everywhere. At the apex of her thighs, in between the beats of her heart, and straight to her mind. All the parts of her attention that a single man never caught of hers before.
Chris didn’t give her the chance to respond before he added quieter, “Not with his cock—not while he’s fucking you. Just him, Val, and his hands or his mouth. Touching you with parts of his body that makes it more intimate than just his cock. Has no one done that the way you want them to—the way they should?”
She swallowed hard.
Shook her head.
“No,” she breathed.
“Fucking shame,” he muttered, arching a brow. “Can I?”
Valeria blinked, the word slipping from her mouth before she even understood she had said it because staring at him was intoxicating. “Yes.”
“Which do you want, then? My fingers, my mouth—both? Because we don’t have a lot of time, and as much as I would like to spend hours showing how you should be fucked and adored, I only have a few minutes before someone realizes we’re not out back where we should be.”
He also had a way of reminding her about reality.
Damn.
“Just ...”
He leaned an inch closer. “Which one?”