I close my eyes as I slide a trail through damp hair, trembling beneath his scrutiny, but suddenly anxious to see if my body still works the way it used to; to see if it’s possible to relearn what’s been unlearned.
My panties are soaked, the moisture seeping out and coating the tops of my thighs. I brush over my clit, feeling that long-forgotten stab of pleasure, before I’m sliding my middle finger inside my body with another moan.
“Describe it to me.”
My eyes fly open again. “I can’t!”
“Do it!” His forearm hits the wall next to my head as he shifts his weight to the side to watch. The dark is almost light now. Naked lust is carved into his handsome face, making him look even more damned and beautiful.
My fingers start thrusting of their own accord. “Tight, so tight!” I whimper.
“Jesus Christ…”
I lean forward a notch to slide my finger in even deeper, feeling the soft muscles rippling and clenching. I’m so deprived I have to thrust a second finger, and then a third to fill my heat.
“Work those fingers, Luna,” he growls hungrily. “Imagine they’re my dick, and fuck yourself to pleasure. Let your greedy little cunt swallow them whole.”
“Oh, God!”
I do as he says, and soon the wet sounds of my desire are louder than my moans.
I’ve missed this—this fall, this rush—the black hole opening up below my feet and plunging me into a pool of pleasure. I’m so close… I slide my fingers out and rub my clit, faster and faster, until there’s only one destination, and then it happens. It happens.
“Joseph!”
I come so hard, my back arches away from the wall and my stomach collides with his erection. Stars burst behind my eyelids… My lungs feel like they’re about to explode. The molten heat between my legs spills out onto the both of us as he palms my pussy to catch the shudders of my orgasm.
I’m crumbling. I’m still weak and useless from the fallout when he crashes his lips down onto mine, pinning me to the wall, thrusting his tongue between my teeth, and reaching into the very heart of me as I ride out the final fragments into his mouth. He’s whiskey-wrong and salvation—burning me up, all over again, with the roughness of his kiss.
It barely lasts a second before he’s dragging his lips away again.
“Your reward,” he grits out, pressing his forehead against mine so hard it’s like he’s trying to push his way inside.
“What is this thing between us, Joseph?” I croak, steadying myself with a hand against his chest again. “Can you define it? Because I sure as hell can’t.”
“Why the fuck do we have to define it? Why the fuck do we have to define anything?”
I see the silhouette of a truth moving behind his eyes. It’s something I haven’t remembered yet, but I know, with inexplicable certainty, that the epicenter lies in the night he rescued me. Whatever went down between us six months ago was enough to drill a hole into my soul and lay a foundation of gray-blue stone.
Moon.
A promise.
“What am I to you? Why can’t you let me go?” Why can’t I turn away from you?
“You’re life, Anna,” I hear him say harshly. “So do me a favor and start living it.”
“What if I don’t remember how to?”
The corners of his mouth twitch. “Memories are like the surface of the water. Some have tidal waves that reach our shores. Others ripple before sinking, but they all flow back to the same source.” I watch his hand stray briefly to the chain around his neck, and then drop again. “Find the source.”
You’re the source.
Again, I don't know how I know this, but I do.
He opens his mouth to say something else when the bedroom light suddenly snaps on, followed swiftly by the click of a safety.
“Get the hell away from her, you pinche puto,” hisses a familiar voice, “or I’m decorating every surface of this motel room with your tainted blood.”
Viviana’s standing in the doorway, and she’s aiming a loaded gun at his head.
19
Anna
Holy shit.
“Vi!”
“You’re going to be okay, Anna,” she says calmly. “I’ve got you, parcera. I owe you.”
She takes a couple of steps into the room and kicks the door shut behind her, never once taking her eyes off Joseph. She’s a rainbow of color for all the wrong reasons. Her face is a mess of purple and red under the harsh yellow light, and the black edges of her tattoo are like a second threat. Her white dress gave up that claim to fame a few hours ago. It’s now streaked with dirt and blood.
“How the fuck are you awake so soon?” I hear him snarl at her.
“I guess you fucked up, you pinche puto,” she says, her expression souring into all the sharp contours of hate. “I guess you didn’t use enough sedative when you stuck your goddamn needle in my neck.”
No!
I slam my gaze into Joseph’s, letting him know that what he did is several steps removed from okay. His face is expressionless. His wall of cold is as dense now as it’s ever been. It feels even colder still half-pressed against me.
“Did you hear what I said, asshole?”
“Yes, I heard you,” he says irritably.
“Then what are you waiting for? An invitation?”
“You’ll regret this,” he warns, acting casual in his compliance. Sliding his arm off the wall as if it’s a huge inconvenience, and then slowly backing away from me. There’s no fear in his movements, just anger. “Where did you get the gun?” He takes up position against the opposite wall, a couple of meters away from me and equidistant to her. He may look calm, but his fists are clenched when he crosses his arms. The only thing scarier than playing with fire is betting against ice.
“I found it in your car, along with the bullet holes.” She swipes a strand of dark hair behind her ear in an edgy motion. “They match the blacked-out windows and the alloys. A real cartel special… Do you know who this is, Anna?” Her voice sounds weird suddenly. Softer. Scarier. Her hand is shaking as she walks over to the bed and picks up another weapon from the center of the brown quilt. Joseph’s. “Get the rest of your clothes, girl. We’re going.”
“What the hell happened to your arm?” I catch him staring at me—more specifically the blood-soaked towel wrapped around my wound. He may have distracted me from the pain for a while, but it’s back to full-force now, radiating up into my shoulder and neck.
“None of your business,” snaps Vi, ramping up her fierce tigress woman persona. “Anna, move it.”
“She’s not going anywhere!” he thunders. “She needs medical attention. And neither are you, for that matter.”
“Why do you care so much about her goddamn arm when you’re itching to carve up the rest of her? Did he hurt you, Anna?” she calls out to me.
“No, I—”
“Thank fuck… You deserve more than a bullet, El Asesino, for all the things you’ve done to the people of this country,” she says, switching on the hate for Joseph again. “You and your jefe.”