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Because even in this, the tease and banter are something forged by people on the same wavelength, who know each other even if there’s still so much to uncover.
That connection that lives and breathes is deep, strong, and delicate.
I don’t know how to explain it, except that it’s so easy to sink into it all with him.
Maybe without different responsibilities in the real world, now I’m older we work even more than before.
Like we’re meant to be.
Diego’s hand slips to my waist, pulling me back against him, and it’s not until I wiggle against him does his cock start to stir. I look from the stage to him and he’s staring down at me.
“The fuckin’ death, Nadie.”
* * *
We stay awhile but no one else approaches apart to order a drink. When we leave, he pushes me against the car, and looks into my eyes. “Goddamn you. This is all gonna be so much harder. I wish to I could pack everyone you want to save and take you all to Dallas.”
It’s the most romantic thing anyone’s said. It’s another declaration of love.
“And I wish I could fix this place to get you back.”
My nephew doesn’t deserve abandonment. The kids, either. The latter, I know I can fashion a workaround. It might keep me longer, but for Diego, I’d do it.
But what workaround is there for Jay?
I can’t ask this man to wait four to five years for me. Not that he’s offered.
“Nadie,” he whispers, “this place would kill me. There’s too much here, soaked into the ground. I couldn’t.”
It hurts. More than I thought. “And we’ve a past with issues.”
“If it was that? I’d work it out now. Our lives go in two different directions now. But if I could, I’d ask for another start.”
“Diego . . .”
“Words fuckin’ suck, and you look fuckin’ hot.”
He drops his mouth to mine, coaxing it open with tender, romantic kisses, the type I don’t expect while pinned to a car. But that’s Diego, tasting of a starless night and heat, of flowers and poetry, cheap bourbon and lust. A wild dichotomy that hasn’t stopped surprising or exciting me.
Our tongues dance, and he’s hot and wet. He’s hard against me, and I don’t want the kiss to end.
But it does. Of course, it does.
Diego steps back like nothing happened. “Come on, cheap ass woman, let’s get this show on the road.
The rest of our trip is a Fibonacci spiral of what passes as the darker edge of Enders Ridge’s criminal class.
I keep my top like I have it rather than fixing it, and just stay quiet, no matter how much I’d love to talk and ask questions.
Instead, I watch him, and as we go into another bar, this one rougher, I keep my nerves in check. I get the sense of the place that weakness can put a person in danger. Several men have eyed Diego and me. I ignore the lustful looks and stay close to Diego.
We stay for about an hour or so. I have no idea if he’s learning anything. But when someone pulls a knife on him as we step out of a rough bar it scares the hell out of me.
The guy speaks rapidly in Spanish, spitting each word. I don’t know what he’s saying, but Diego seems to know, and it surprises me. Diego deals with the guy quickly and so proficiently. It’s like he’s shaking someone’s hand rather than disarming by snapping an arm, punching the guy in the throat, and kicking the man’s legs out so he falls to the ground.
There, he bends and frisks the guy before taking the knife, a gun, and his wallet.
I’m about to say something, but a sharp, dark look from Diego makes me shut my mouth.
