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With an expression I can’t read, he inspects me from head to toe. “Now, why would I tell you? I think I’d prefer to leave it as a surprise. Just know I will require your assistance to follow through with whatever I eventually decide. Can you do that? Forfeit a fraction of the control you seem so desperate to maintain?”
In an effort to gather my thoughts, I sit beside him and dip my bare feet in the water.
“You’re wrong,” I tell him softly, choosing to focus on just one part of his accusation. “I am never in control.”
“Oh no,youare wrong.” Taking my hand again, he unfurls the fingers and places them on his thigh. Holding my breath, I read into the gesture far more than I should—the proximity to his cock. The strength coiled in every flexing bit of muscle. The way he seems to relax into my touch as if relishing it. He’s trying to convey something through this contact.
Possession?
“You steal every ounce of control you can,” he tells me. “You wield it like a weapon, you do. Both a whip and a shield. With such rigid control over your mind, a smart man knows you won’t be easily swayed. It takes far more than fear and brutality to get inside this—” He taps my skull with the forefinger of his other hand. Then he smooths the hair back from my face, lingering near my jawline. “You keep your soul locked up tight. Tell me how you met your ex-lover.”
I risk turning my face from him to hide how I bite my lip. Does he truly not know? Or is he playing the same word game I was? Lying via omission.
“I was young,” I say carefully. “Too young. I didn’t know it then, what kind of man he was...”
I hope the vague descriptor is enough, but he isn’t satisfied. His grip on me tightens. “And that is?”
Defeated, I sigh. “Dangerous. Unstable. Violent.”
“No, not that.” Jaguar captures my hand again and brings it to his chest. His heartbeat taunts me through his skin, ruthlessly steady. “What drew you to him romantically, chica? What did he do to hook his talons into your heart?”
Unshed tears prickle my eyes. I never intended to be this vulnerable to him. A part of me wants to run away or provoke him into a petty argument. Anything but give him yet another piece of myself to play with.
“I want to hear it from your mouth,” he prods. “I know the rumors. The lies. Tell me how it truly was for you.”
“It was…sudden,” I say, gazing into the water below. “He had a way of making someone feel as though they were the only other person in the universe. That you were invincible. That he could take your pain away with a smile.”Dios mío.I hate the nostalgia apparent in my voice. I’m sure even Jaguar can hear it.
“You aren’t that sentimental,” he scolds, his tone flat. “I want to know whatreallydrew you to him.”
I shudder at the question, hating the introspection it requires. What drew me to Diego? In essence, it’s simple.
“Beside him, I was strong. Someone who couldn’t be overlooked. On his arm, I got a taste of power, and I was so damn naïve that I loved it. I craved it. He made me feel like the strong woman I always thought I was. Then he took that woman and locked her inside a cage.”
“And you, Lupe, you don’t like being trapped,” Jaguar says. “I’m sure that riled your feisty spirit. Is that why you left him?”
“No.” I shake my head, more troubled than I want to admit.Dios mío,this man has a way of dragging the truth out of me. “I didn’t fight back against his captivity,” I confess. “I endured it. I told myself that it was the least I could do for him, and I let him drain me dry.”
Suddenly, Jaguar releases my hand and pushes himself off the ledge, entering the pool fully dressed. Unconcerned by the prospect of ruining his clothing, he propels himself toward the middle of the water, all while crooking a finger for me to follow.
I consider ignoring him, but some impulsive curiosity won’t let me. Instead, I copy him, wincing as the cool water laps at the scabs on my back. Swimming is a struggle with the length of this dress. It takes punishing effort to reach him, but in the end, I only traverse the length myself halfway.
He surges the remaining yards to meet me, hooking an arm around my waist. The action presses me against him in a way that makes my breath catch. To maintain some semblance of leverage, I wrap an arm around his neck.
“See what I mean,” he murmurs into my ear as if the way my trembling fingers graze the back of his head is proof of his accusations. “I find it hard to believe that you could ever be submissive to anyone. You make this man seem more intriguing than ever, but there is one thing in particular that I want to know.”
His hands skim my hips before grasping my ass beneath the water.
“It sounds like he had you on a tight leash. So why the stunts? A fearful woman doesn’t jump from a window and demand her enemy come out and face her.”
“I wasn’t always this way,” I confess, leaning into him.
Being out in the water like this does something to me. It feels as though we’re miles away from the rest of the world, able to have at least one conversation without our usual dynamic. That’s both freeing and terrifying.
“I find that hard to believe,” he says, another note of scolding in his voice.
He thinks I’m lying, but I don’t shy from the skepticism.
“I wasn’t. I would cower and hide in his shadow. I did whatever he asked of me. So, if you were working with him, he could never stomach such outright disrespect. He’d come out and face me.”
