Malo - Page 28

“We’re going to get your father out of there,” I swear to her. “You have my word on that. Lo prometo.”

She stares at me for a moment, and her face softens slightly. “Why are you being so kind to me?” she whispers.

I glance away from her. There are a million answers to that question, a million things I could tell her—but the look in her eyes when she gazes at me sparks an urge to protect I haven’t felt in a long time. I feel responsible for her, and I know it has something to do with all those people I left in that van all those years ago. All those people I wasn’t strong enough to save. Those people I would do anything to go back in time and rescue.

“Because I’ve seen too many people hurt by the cartel,” I tell her finally. “And I don’t want to let them do that to a single other person. Not you, not your father, not anyone.”

“You have?” she asks, sounding surprised. I grit my teeth and try not to let the thought of Harley sting my brain any more than it has to. I have tortured myself for too many nights, thinking about what those bastards did to her, what they have put her through. It only takes one look at her to see how much she’s still hurting from all of it, how cold and closed-off she has become. I don’t know if she’s ever going to truly recover from that hell she survived, but I know wiping every single person who touched her off the face of the map is the closest I can come to helping.

“Yeah,” I reply, glancing away from her. I’m still so fucking ashamed that I let them take Harley and Bella in the first place. If I hadn’t gotten sloppy, God knows if they’d even have had the opportunity to get their hands on the two of them.

She reaches for my face, bringing my gaze back to her. It almost hurts to look at her straight-on like this, as though she might be able to see what’s going on inside my head—see all the shame I’m still carrying. I don’t want her to know about it, not if I can help it. I don’t want her burdened with the knowledge of all the ways I have failed. I doubt she knows anything of what they went through, or that I feel partly responsible for it.

“Hey,” she murmurs, and she brushes her thumb across my cheek. The way she’s looking at me, I can feel a heat between us. Not the same heat from the night we met, no. This is something different. This is the two of us, actually being honest with each other, not trying to put up the front we both did on the night we first met.

“I… thank you,” she tells me, her eyes softening. “I know it’s not easy for you, coming here, doing all of this for me, but I appreciate it. I really do.”

I reach up and cover her hand with mine. I can’t take my eyes off of her. It’s like I’m sinking into her gaze, wanting to lose myself there, wanting to forget everything else in the world, but the way she’s gazing at me, how good it feels for her to look at me like this.

Slowly, I move toward her and plant my lips against hers again. Her mouth is soft, eager. Her lips part at once, and she turns her head and kisses me properly, dipping her tongue into my mouth. She moans slightly, and I slide my hands to her hips, grabbing hold of her and pulling her onto my lap.

She draws back from me for a moment, just looking into my eyes, and for a second, I think she’s re-thinking this. But then, she wraps her arms around my neck and sinks into me again, kissing me once more.

I slide my hands down to her ass, pushing up the hem of her skirt and groping at her gorgeous curves. Fuck, her body is so damn sexy; the way she feels, moving on top of me, is intoxicating, every inch of my body responding to hers. I’m as high as I was during our first encounter, but this time, it has nothing to do with the little baggie in my pocket, and everything to do with how good she feels pressed against me.

I can already feel myself getting hard against her, and she is pushing down against me, grinding into me like she can’t get enough. My breath starts to come harder and faster, and my teeth catch on her lip. I expect her to pull back or protest, but she just moans again, our tongues sliding against each other, as though we’re trying to drink one another up completely.

“I really need to feel you inside of me,” she breathes against my mouth, her voice edged with a desire so intense it makes my head spin. I can hardly control myself. I reach down between her legs and rip off her panties, tossing them aside, not caring that the walls in this place are probably paper-thin. Hell, maybe I want them to hear us, maybe I want the whole city to hear us—to hear how much she wants me, how much she needs me, and how good I’m about to make her feel.

I unzip my pants and take my cock into my hand, already so fucking hard I feel myself throbbing for the feel of her. She gazes down at me, her eyes hazy with lust, and shifts so that she’s hovering just an inch or two above me. I bring my hand to her hip, and slowly guide her down, feeling her envelop me in the warmth and wetness of her pussy.

“Fuck,” I groan, as she tips her head back, letting the sensation course through her. I feel her nails raking down my back as I hold her there on top of me for a moment, just letting myself get used to the feel of her wrapped around me.

Slowly, she begins to rock her hips. I slide my hand to the back of her neck, bringing her toward me so I can rest my forehead against hers. I can’t get enough of the look in her eyes, the way she’s gazing at me, as though she can hardly believe this is happening. Her cheeks are flushed, her breath coming quicker and quicker as she moves on top of me with more purpose. I kiss her again, sinking my tongue deep into her mouth, tasting her, losing myself to the feel of her. I know there is a whole lot of trouble waiting for us outside of this room, but right here, right now, I couldn’t give less of a damn about any of it. Not when she feels as good as she does.

She grasps my shoulders, using the leverage to grind up and down on top of me, and I push down the top of her dress, exposing her gorgeous tits. Her creamy brown nipples are already hard as I lean down to draw them into my mouth, letting my teeth tease over them for the barest moment, and listening to the gasp of pleasure she lets out in return.

I look up, drinking in the sight of her like this. There’s something so intimate about being with her in this way, watching her give herself to me. Not because she feels like she needs to, but because she wants to. Because she craves me, deeply, completely, just as much as I crave her.

I can see that she’s getting closer and closer to the edge, and I need to take her over it, into the release she clearly craves so badly. I want to give her everything. I want to show her how good we are together.

I thrust up and into her, matching the movement of her hips. Her lips part, and her breath starts to come harder, faster. I know it’s not going to be long until she gives me the orgasm I want. I need to feel her contract around me, come for me, just the way she did back in that alley behind the bar.

“Oh,” she moans, and she leans forward, pressing her head into my shoulder as her body gives in at last to the pleasure. I feel her squeezing around me, pulling me in close, like she can’t get enough. Her hands move across my back, tracing the shape of me, as though she’s making certain I’m really here.

And that’s what pushes me over the edge and into my own release. I drive myself up into her one last time and hold myself there, feeling my cock throb inside of her. It’s so much more intense than the first time we were together, even though I’m sober now. More intense, because I know her, I really know her. I know the kind of woman she is, and I want her more than I’ve wanted anyone.

She moves on top of me for another few moments, enjoying every last moment of the orgasm before it’s over, and then, she presses her forehead to mine again. Her hair is stuck to her face, her eyes a little wild with lust, but there’s a smile on her face that tells me she loved every moment.

I pull out, and wrap my arms around her, not ready to let her go just yet. Inhaling the scent of her, I try to commit to memory how good she feels in my arms.

Because I know we might not get a chance to do this again anytime soon. And I want to make the most of all the time we have.

CHAPTER 22

MARIA

As I stare up at the ceiling, listening to Malo’s slow, steady breathing beside me, I try to stop my mind from racing, but it’s no good.