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Romero grinned up at me, or at least, I was pretty sure he was—it was too damn dark to see much of anything—before licking my juices from his lips audibly. With ease, he rose to his knees and guided his cock back into my drenched cunt. I clawed his back, trying to bring him closer.
Our mouths collided and my taste on his tongue only turned me on more. Locking my ankles together behind his back, I could do nothing but hold on for dear life as he fucked me like it was the only thing holding him together.
When he sucked in a sharp breath, readying to spill inside me, I bit down on his shoulder. He roared his release to the ceiling, and I couldn’t help but smile. Making this man cum was a powerful feeling.
Finally he sagged against me, burying his face into the crook of my shoulder. We remained like that for a few seconds while we fought to catch our breath.
The silence grew louder around us. And then he whispered, “Marry me, Julietta.”
I reared back, eyes wide. He leaned over me and turned the light on. He looked at me with his full intensity, that quickly morphed to full-blown murderous rage.
That’s when I realized he’d zeroed in on the bruise I sported on one side of my face, a bullet graze on the other. Then to the bandage covering my shoulder. “Who hurt you?”
I looked down at my hands. “My father.”
“Don’t fucking play with me,” he barked.
Cold washed over me suddenly and I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself and looking down at my bare legs. “Did you know that Morgan Barrera was my father?” My words were barely a whisper.
Romero’s body stiffened. “What?”
I met his gaze head on. “Morgan. I met him. He told me he’s my dearest old dad.”
His eyes searched mine before looking around the room—what he was trying to find, I didn’t know. “Morgan is here?”
Fuck.
I gave a bitter laugh. “He was. I killed him.” Tears threatened to fall again, but I blinked them away.
Romero’s brows creased. “What do you—How?”
I swallowed hard before relaying Morgan’s visit yesterday and how I disposed of his body along with his two cronies in the dumpster out back. Romero touched the pink strands of my hair, as though needing to touch me to make sure I was real. When I finished, he swore, getting to his feet and pulling out his phone. A sinking feeling took hold of me. He’d asked me to marry him and now vicious reality had come to slap me in the face. I’d go to prison if I got caught.
I was a murderer.
He made a call, pacing around the room while he spoke to someone. He looked to me and said, “The dojo’s address?”
“It’s down the street,” I answered, pointing.
Romero relayed the address and gave the name of the dojo before he hung up. “Alright, I’ve got a team making sure all of the evidence is completely gone. Morgan’s people probably already know.”
“He had people with him. I shot them both. There’s bullet holes on the floor.” I dropped my head into my hands knowing how bad it sounded. “I was going to leave once the storm stopped. There’s no transportation running in this weather.”
Romero smirked. “Thank God for that, then. Get packed, let’s get you out of here.”
I paused, unsure of what to say. Worrying my bottom lip for a moment, I tried to stifle the fluttering sensation in my chest. “We’re going back to California?”
Romero didn’t move. “Is that what you want, Julietta? Would you like to come home with me?”
I peered up at him from under my lashes. “As your wife?”
He took my hand in his. “Yes. I want you to marry me.”
For several moments I was too stunned to speak. I’d expected his anger, his hurt, his lust, but this…
This I was not expecting.
He got off the bed without another word, and grabbed something from a bag by the door that I hadn’t seen before. When he returned with a small velvet box, I inhaled sharply.
