His eyes managed to stay kind. “Let’s hope they don’t.” He let out a long breath and closed his eyes. “Thank you for being an angel.” Then he seemed to drift off to sleep.
I watched him, puzzled at our exchange, until Borrero came over and laid his hand on my shoulder.
“Let’s go, Luisa. You’ve done enough,” he said, and led me up the stairs.
After that, I went straight to the kitchen to down what was left of a bottle of merlot, then I went to my room. I rested there for a while, tossing and turning under the covers. It was a cold night and I felt even colder inside. I was supposed to go meet Esteban for our nightly tryst but I wasn’t in the mood.
I wouldn’t be in the mood again. With a simple, impulsive kiss, Javier had sealed himself as mine again. I had done something terrible, but I was ready to put that behind me now. Hope was so very dangerous, but at the moment it was blooming inside me, like the desert wildflowers after a rain.
I was almost asleep when I heard voices outside my door.
Javier.
Esteban.
They didn’t sound like they were fighting. In fact, they sounded as they usually did. Javier, dry and calm, Esteban, easygoing, like everything in life was one big joke.
Except Esteban wasn’t easygoing at all. In fact, the more time I spent with him, the more I started to realize there was more to him than what met the eye. For one, he was pushy and violent. Enough that I could see him going to a dark place very quickly, a place where no rules applied. The attitude he had most of the time was just a front, covering up something darker. The only problem was, I didn’t know if this was common knowledge and I was just slow to catch on to it, or if he was someone I needed to watch closely.
Of course, now he was. I had made it that way.
It grew silent, and I heard footsteps disappearing down the hall.
I sat up in my bed and listened, trying to make sure he was truly gone. The last thing I wanted was for Esteban to come and find me tonight.
I got out of bed, just wearing a camisole and my underwear, and crept over to the door. I opened it a crack and looked up and down the hall. It was dark and empty.
I took in a deep breath and silently closed the door behind me before I tiptoed down the hall. From one room I heard manly grunts, from another I heard a woman’s giggle. I didn’t know where Esteban was.
But I knew where my husband should have been.
I stopped at his door, noting that Diego wasn’t on duty. This house was half the size of the mansion back at home, so either Diego or Artur was probably patrolling the perimeter of the building.
I tried the knob but of course it was locked. He would never leave his bedroom door unlocked unless Diego was there.
I knocked as quietly as possible, not wanting to draw attention to myself to anyone but him.
The door opened slightly and Javier stared at me through the gap, backlit by the lamp in his room. His eyes were shadowy but I could tell they were surprised.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, looking over my shoulder with concern.
I nodded, feeling almost nervous, like a girl on her first date. “I’m fine. Can I come in?”
“Sure,” he said, holding the door open for me. I brushed past him, feeling the air between us intensify as he quickly looked out the door, checking again for who knows what, before closing and locking it.
I stood in the middle of the room and looked around, as if I hadn’t seen it before. The truth was, I didn’t know where to look or what to say or why I was really here.
“What is it?” he asked. His voice was lower now and smoother than scotch.
I turned to face him. He stood by the door, his hands at his sides, though his fingers were twitching slightly as if he didn’t quite know what to do with them. He was shirtless, wearing loose black pajama pants, this very thin material that left nothing to the imagination if he got a little excited, and he often did. His shaggy hair was messy for once, across his forehead, making him look years younger. But his eyes burned the same. His eyes never lied.
Did mine? I wondered what he had seen in them early.
Had he seen the truth?
I chewed on my lip but didn’t answer him.
He frowned, a deep line between his brows.
His nostrils flared slightly. His shoulders tensed up.
Eyes blazed like the sun.
Then he strode toward me and took me in his arms.
His lips found mine, hot and feverish, and one of his hands was in my hair and the other was wrapped around my waist. His strong fingers dug into me like he was incapable of letting go.
I wished he never would.
I whimpered in his grasp, at the desperation as his body strained against mine. He was kissing me so deeply that I could feel it in my toes, and my nerves were razed and raring, filling me with a need so strong it was almost violent.
“Luisa,” he said, breathing hard as he pulled his lips off of mine and licked down my neck, behind my ear. Just the sound of my name was making my knees liquefy. “I need to fuck you, claim you. My wife.”
His wife. I was so close to drowning in my guilt.
I decided to drown in him instead.
“I’m all yours,” I said breathlessly.
He grunted at that and wrapped his hands under my ass, picking me up and ravaging my neck as we moved backward toward the bed. He threw me down on it, immediately ripping my thin camisole in two while I slid out of my shorts.
While one hand slipped between my legs, the movement silky smooth, his other arm pressed down on my windpipe. With less air coming in, every sensation was heightened. The feel of his stubble as his chin raked against my skin, his large tongue lapping around my breasts, the hardness of his erection as it pressed against my legs, the blissful intrusion of his long fingers finding purchase inside me.