“Well, I—”
“What, because I’m Latino, I can’t cook Italian food? You expected tacos maybe?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He leaned forward, studying my face with a satisfied smile. “You’re blushing. You’re really upset, aren’t you?”
His mocking tone horrified me. “No! I just meant that...forget it.”
Content with his discovery, he sat back in his chair and twirled another forkful of pasta. “To answer your question, one of my Houston neighbors was Italian. She used to bring me casseroles all the time, and eventually, I asked her to show me how to make them.”
“Oh, I see.”
“We spent hours together,” he continued, much to my horror. “Sofia was the best—so patient and kind. I miss her a lot.”
I’d heard enough. Shoving my chair back, I gathered my plate and turned toward the kitchen. “Well, she certainly taught you well.”
“Are you jealous, Leighton?” he asked, grabbing my wrist.
“Me? No. Why would I be jealous? She was special to you. I get it.”
“She was also eighty-four years old when she passed away.”
The plate fell out of my hands, crashing onto the floor and splashing cream sauce all over my white dress. “I’m sorry?”
“You’ve got to start trusting me,” he said, his tone leaving no room for debate. “I’ve never had that type of connection with anyone. Not after you.”
I couldn’t let myself believe it. Once upon a time, my choices only affected me. Things were different now, and I couldn’t allow what should’ve been to dictate what was.
Manners required me to stay and clean up my mess. Manners could kiss my ass. “Thank you for dinner, but it’s getting late. I should be going.”
Instead of letting me go, he tightened his hold on my wrist. Mateo’s easygoing demeanor faded, the cartel boss in him taking over. “What were you saying earlier? Something about you not agreeing to cooperate with the DEA for just you and Brody.”
“It’s not important,” I said, shaking my head. “I was flustered.”
He narrowed his gaze, rounding the table until he stood beside me. “I don’t think so.”
“Really, it was nothing,” I repeated, the heat radiating off him causing sweat to bead across my chest. “I have to go.”
His eyes darkened. “But we haven’t even had dessert.”
“I couldn’t eat anything else.”
“That makes one of us.”
The hunger I saw building in his eyes exploded. Sweeping his free arm out, Mateo cleared the dishes off the table, sending them flying into the wall and onto the tile floor. As ceramic exploded everywhere, he lifted my legs off the floor and forced my back against the table, pushing my cotton dress up to my waist.
“What are you—”
“Doing? I’m having dessert.” Ignoring my protests, he grasped the sides of my panties and pulled. As they slid down my legs, he followed their path until his head settled between my thighs. “I’m still hungry, and you’re way too tense.”
I pushed against his shoulders, but his tongue was already probing between my swollen folds, counteracting my blocks with a sharp bite to my clit. I clutched fistfuls of his hair, his strong, rhythmic sucking drawing a tortured moan from my throat. I tried to resist him, but my body betrayed me, eagerly giving into his demands and arching against the heat of his mouth.
“That’s it, mi amor. Cry for me. I’m going to own you until you beg me to stop, then I’ll start all over again until you beg me to finish.”
My breath stalled, and my world spun. The weight of the last week evaporated from my mind, leaving only Mateo and his wicked mouth. I stopped fighting him and gave into the freedom, allowing him to take me over the edge.
My heart thumped heavily in my chest as his lips sucked with the voracity of a starved animal. “Oh, God, Matty, I’m coming!”
“Not without me.” Metal clanged against the glass table, and I lifted my head to see him rip his belt from its loop and shove his jeans down his thighs. He was painfully hard, the broad head of his cock curled against his stomach. “Never without me again, Star.”
Grasping my hips, he jerked me toward the end of the table and pushed inside with one hard stroke. I inhaled sharply at his invasion, preparing for the rough fucking I’d become accustomed to. Instead, he weaved a hand through my hair, tugging me toward his mouth as he pulled out and slowly eased back in.
“Promise me you’re not lying about anything.”
I groaned, throwing my head back. “I promise.”
He circled his hips, putting pressure on my clit before drawing back and driving back in.
“Promise me the man at the bar was just a stranger.”
“He was just trying to help.” Technically, it wasn’t a lie.
“Promise me Luis Delgado meant nothing to you.”
I rolled my head side to side, biting my lip between moans. “I couldn’t love him.”
“Promise me whatever happens, you understand I’m not trying to hurt you.”
“Oh, God, yes!” My breathing shallowed, and my muscles gripped his cock as I shook on the crest of an orgasm.
“Look at me.” Opening my eyes, I met with two burning coals, dark as midnight and just as dangerous. “This ends now. After this, you won’t question me. After this, you’ll do exactly as I say. After this, you’re mine.” Thrusting with one final and brutal stroke, we both broke apart. I screamed, my body wrecked from the waves of aftershocks rippling through it, and Mateo groaned my name, throwing his head back as his body jerked in release.
Time passed in a blurry haze. I meant to leave. I meant to gather what was left of my dignity and drive back to Brody’s apartment. Instead, I found myself completely naked in Mateo’s bed, his strong arms wrapped around me as he held me close.
It should’ve felt wrong. I should’ve felt manipulated, but I didn’t. For the first time in days, the only thing I felt was safe.
Until I woke from another nightmare just as the sun broke over the horizon and rolled over to latch onto him. Pressing my nose in between his shoulder blades, I groggily opened my eyes and froze.
A skull with the bottom half of the jaw missing covered the right side of his back. Wilted black roses lined either side of the cheek and an hourglass settled at the base.
The same tattoo I saw on the man arguing with Luis.
The heavens opened as I walked toward the dark sedan, but I didn’t run. In fact, I may have even slowed my stride a little, the chilled March rain matting my hair against my cheek and drenching my clothes. I imagined Alex puffing on one of his cigarettes and glaring at me from behind the tinted glass, and I smiled, making sure to walk even slower.
A thick cloud of smoke billowed out of the car as I opened the door and slid in the passenger’s seat. “Let’s make this quick,” I said, staring straight ahead. “I have to be at work by ten.”
Alex wasn’t amused by my dismissive attitude. “Well, maybe if you hadn’t danced in the rain like a fucking moron, we would’ve been done already.”
I twisted around to face him, rage boiling inside me. “And maybe if you hadn’t forced me to be your own personal Donnie Brasco, I wouldn’t be here in the first damn place.”