Sweat beaded across my forehead as she teased me by sliding down a few inches before lifting back up. I bit my lip so hard I drew blood, five seconds away from throwing her on the floor when she sank down slowly, and I slipped fully into her wet heat.
All the air sucked out of my lungs in one breath.
Holy fucking hell.
She shifted her hands, gripping the back of the chair behind my head as she lifted her body up and down so agonizingly slow, I swore I was losing my mind. We were nose to nose. My eyes dimmed. My hearing muddled. My insides twisted.
But damn, could I feel.
Adriana’s pace picked up, her body rising and falling with frantic speed. It wasn’t enough. Giving up, I dug my fingers into her hips and lifting her up, I pulled her down rough and hard on my cock. Over and over, we worked in tandem, her riding me on top as I pumped my hips from the bottom.
Faster. Harder. Deeper.
My balls tightened, and the pressure built to the point that I knew if we didn’t stop now, I’d come inside her again. I opened my mouth to tell her to slow down when she came.
Hard.
Her hands dove into my hair, her eyes squeezed shut, and her mouth dropped open as her body spasmed, wave after wave claiming her and dragging her under. The violent contraction gripped my dick like a vice, and I came with a roar, my hands holding her hips down until I had nothing left.
We sat there, stunned as we gasped for air. Adriana was still holding the back of my head when we opened our eyes. Her long eyelashes fluttered as we sat pressed together from our foreheads to our noses to our mouths.
Our open mouths.
Stealing breath and flirting with danger.
It would’ve been so easy to kiss her. I didn’t think she would’ve stopped me. But she had rules, and rules weren’t made to be broken.
They were meant to be changed.
So, without breaking our connection, I picked her up and carried her into the bedroom.
I woke up the next morning, still exhausted.
Rolling over, I peered at the clock on the nightstand and groaned. Three hours of sleep wasn’t nearly enough, but I’d trade sleep for sex any day. I smiled, remembering how I took her three more times once we made it into bed, and how she’d fallen asleep curled up next to me.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept with a woman in my arms.
Whatever this was between us, I’d be damned if I’d let her shut me out again. We were going to talk about what happened at Rosita Vergara’s house and stop all this secretive shit.
“Adriana, baby, we have to get up.” Still half asleep, I flung my arm across the bed, only for it to fall on top of a cold sheet.
I ignored the rock settling in the pit of my stomach as I grabbed my discarded boxers off the floor before stumbling into the attached bathroom. “Adriana?”
It was silent.
A combination of dread and rage fueled me as I tore through the house, searching every empty room, the call of her name becoming angry shouts.
Then I looked out the window toward an empty driveway.
“Fuck!” I slammed my palm against the glass, trying hard to resist putting my fist through it.
If she wanted to have conversations behind my back, so could I. All Carrera vehicles were equipped with specialized GPS. One call to Val and he’d track her down in five minutes.
Turning around, I stalked toward the living room and reached for the coffee table where I left my phone only to find it missing too.
“Son of a bitch!” Hurling a nearby lamp across the room, I cursed as it shattered against the wall into hundreds of irreparable pieces.
Chapter Thirty-One
Adriana
The longer I drove, the hollower the ache in my chest became. Why did selflessness hurt so damn bad? Having a taste of happiness last night made leaving him this morning the hardest thing I’d ever done.
Whereas most people hungered for light, I found solace in shadows. But last night, Brody stripped my defenses, and I let myself need someone. Want someone.
I almost kissed him.
His lips were right there. I wanted to kiss him—something I’d never done. I’d fucked many men. I’d pleasured them with my mouth. But I’d never kissed one. However, last night, I was about to give the one thing I held the most sacred to the man who ripped my life apart.
And then he pulled away.
I had my rules, and maybe he had his too. I needed the words to justify the kiss, and he needed the kiss to justify saying the words. But maybe kisses and words weren’t important when actions spoke louder.
Was what I felt love? Was it lust? I didn’t know. I’d never truly been in love before. But if it meant shielding me from gunfire in a crowded nightclub, or doing whatever it took to unlock the secrets to my past, or lying to a man who could end his life just to give me more time to figure out mine—then I guess that was exactly what it was.
But love didn’t invite danger. It met it head-on.
And that’s why I left him sleeping.
Love also knew when to walk away.
He never would’ve let me leave, or even worse, he would’ve tried to come with me. This was dangerous cartel territory. To these men, oaths meant nothing. Pledges meant nothing. Affiliations meant nothing. I would’ve never forgiven myself if something happened to him.
It took a little over an hour to get to the Tlajomulco de Zuñiga address Rosita gave me. The warehouse was hidden three miles down a secluded road. It was everything and nothing I expected it to be. Run-down, gray, plain, and boxy. It blended in as nothing special which was just what he wanted.
As soon as I stepped out of the car, a thick foreboding hung heavy in the air, and the quiet hum of destiny whispered in my ear. That’s when I felt it. That’s when I knew.
He’d been waiting for me.
I didn’t bother to knock. There was no use. I pushed the latch down and opened the door, knowing it wouldn’t be locked. A dank, musty smell hit me as soon as I walked in, a metallic rust that only lingered with the stain of blood. As much as it turned my stomach, I ignored it, keeping a blank face as the heavy door slammed behind me.
My eyes fought to adjust to the dim overhead lighting, scanning for hidden Muñoz soldiers, but there were none. Only a folding table with a metal chair and the bright glowing end of a lit cigar.
“Ignacio Vergara.” The words slithered past my lips.
He removed the cigar from his mouth, his voice echoing off the bare walls. “Marisol Muñoz.”
“It’s Adriana Carrera.” I squared my shoulders. “You’re a hard man to track down.”
His lips parted in a sadistic smile. “Invisibility is a learned skill. I’m good at it.”
“Well, I found you, so obviously, not that good.” Clasping my hands behind my back, I walked a strategic line parallel to the table. “Plus, I know who you are now, so I suppose the only question I have left is to ask what the hell you think you’re doing.”
“I told you before. I’m taking what’s owed to me.”
I paused and lifted an eyebrow. “Am I supposed to know what that means?”
I knew exactly what he meant, so I was shocked when my abrasive belligerence came out of nowhere. I didn’t fear his aggression. I wanted it.