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His hand slid into my hair, and he gripped my locks to draw my face closer. I could feel his whiskey breath near my lips, but I didn’t give him my gaze like I knew he wanted. “Your ex wouldn’t know what to do with an ass like yours. You’ve never been taken there, have you, Tesoro?” He grabbed hold of my ass, and a shuddery gasp fell from my lips at the feel of his rock-hard cock pressing against me.
“No.” That hadn’t been what I’d planned to say, but maybe it should’ve been on the list? “You’d be the first.”
“Good.” He surprised me by dropping his mouth over mine, only to lightly nip my lower lip as he squeezed my ass, and then he released both my lip and flesh and eased back a step.
I blinked free from my stupor a moment later when realization struck me. “I’m not distracting you.” My hand went to his chest. “You’re trying to distract me. You don’t want me to know something.”
He dipped his chin to look at my palm over his heart.
“Tell me what Jesse said to you. Who is he really?”
He smirked, his hard gaze meeting mine again. “John Wick.”
“Real funny.” I thought back to the man I’d met earlier tonight in the parking lot. “I didn’t know John wore flannel.” I tensed at the fact he didn’t seem to be joking about John Wick. “If he’s a contract killer, are you?”
“No, I’m a chef.” His tone was softer than I’d expected that time.
“And before?”
“Go home, Maria. I’m not doing this tonight. Everything is about to change, and I need one night to—”
“Fall apart before it does?” And what is going to change? I wanted to cry, to beg him for the answers he didn’t want to give me.
“Yes,” he hissed, his chin angrily jutting out. “So leave me alone and let me fall the fuck apart.”
I shook my head. “No, I won’t let you do that.”
“Stay here and watch it happen or go. Those are your choices.” When he tried to turn, to escape, I hooked the waistband of his pants with my finger and tugged.
He slowly turned, zeroing in on my face as if he were on the verge of putting me in my place. Quite literally. And I knew where I longed to be. With him. Or maybe beneath him.
But not tonight. I’d never let him take me while he was drunk—not because I didn’t want it but because he’d never forgive himself for it afterward.
“Fire,” he mouthed, as if warning me I was on the verge of getting burned. “Hell is my playground, not yours.”
“Then give me an invitation,” I snapped back, tears in my eyes. “Because if you’re there right now, then I want to be, too.”
“No, you don’t.”
His dark smile only emboldened me. “Don’t tell me what I want.”
“You think what you learned this morning is bad, it’s just the tip of the iceberg, sweetheart. You wouldn’t walk away from me if you knew everything. You’d run.”
“I don’t believe you.” Well, not about the running part, at least. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, so go ahead, give me your best shot. Try and push me away with details about your past and watch me take two steps closer instead.”
His lips lifted, showing a hint of his teeth as he hissed like a wounded, frightened animal in the wild.
But silence was all he gave me. He really is scared I’ll leave him, isn’t he?
“Fine,” I grumbled, realizing he had no plans to share. “You want a distraction?” I pointed to his bedroom. “Then give me number six.”
His expression softened. “What’s number six?”
“I’ll show you.” I huffed out a breath, flicked off the switch for the gas fireplace, then walked into his bedroom and turned on the light.
I spun around to see him hanging just outside his room with his arms folded while he leaned into the interior doorframe, eyes steady on me.
“Tell me.” His gaze walked up the length of me, landing last on my lips.
