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“I chose you. Not the cartel.”
“It’s one and the same, avecita.”
He reaches for my face, but I grasp his hand mid-air, glancing at his split knuckles; a very real reminder of exactly who and what he is. My gaze lifts from his bloodied skin to his face. “You hurt yourself.”
He tightens his fist, and the skin starts to bleed again. “It’s necessary. Sometimes you break something to make it stronger.” I trace my fingers over what looks like years of scar tissue over his knuckles. Broken, again and again, to make the skin tougher and stronger.
Make it stronger. Like him. Like Una. “Teach me to fight,” I blurt.
He frowns. “Anna…”
“Make me stronger. Please.” I need to be stronger in every way.
He tilts his head back on a groan. “You don’t need to fight.” His gaze meets mine, and he strokes fingers over my cheek gently. “I’ll always protect you.”
“And what if you can’t always be there?”
His eyes tighten. “Are you planning on leaving?”
“Rafael, I can’t always be tied to your side. Those guys came into your house and took me while you weren’t there. If I’d been able to defend myself…”
“You can defend yourself.” He stands up, taking me with him before he drops me to my feet. He says nothing as he marches back toward the house, dragging me behind him. Leading me through the house, we go to his office. He goes over to a picture behind the desk, an oil painting of a beach. It swings away from the wall, revealing a safe behind it. With the press of a few buttons and a beep, the metal door swings open.
“I gave this to Violet on her sixteenth birthday,” he says, his back still to me. Turning around, he places a gun on the desk. “I want you to have it.”
I glance at the silver gun, so inconspicuous, but it was his sister’s, which means it has meaning. “I can’t take your sister’s gun.”
He sighs and braces both hands on the desk. “It’s not like it could have saved her, Anna. Please. Have it.” Picking it up, he checks the clip before handing it to me, butt first. “And now you can defend yourself. You don’t need to fight.”
There’s something in his eyes, almost close to panic, so I decide to let it go. For now. “Thank you.”
I shove the gun into the waistband of my shorts, and he smirks. “Be careful.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not going to shoot myself, Rafe.” He rounds the desk and presses a kiss to my lips. The smell of sweat hits me, along with that underlying citrus. I wrinkle my nose. “You smell.”
He laughs and backs away towards the door. “I’m going to take a shower. Care to watch?” My face heats, and I say nothing. His laughter echoes down the hallway after he leaves the office.
I pull the gun from the back of my shorts and stare at it clutched in my hands. His sister’s gun. I chew on my bottom lip, turning the weapon over. The light glints off the silver barrel, highlighting the engraved patterns on the butt. He gave me Violet’s gun, and I know how much that means. He gives me so much. And yet again, that sense of inadequacy settles in my gut, eating away at me like a disease. He’s given me everything, and I’ve given him nothing.
What if I could though? It’s not like I’m not well versed in fucking men. Why am I so incapable of doing it with him? Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. At the thought, fear grips me, sending my heart sprinting in a pounding beat. My stomach clenches and bile creeps up my throat. I can’t...But then I imagine what it would feel like to lose him, and that fear is far more intense. It doesn’t matter how tight I hold onto him, we’re slipping apart. And I need him. He’s become like air to me, and the thought of him walking away…it hurts, far more than my lost dignity. Steeling myself, I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath. I can do this. I’ve done it plenty of times before.
Turning around, I walk out of the office and straight up the stairs. Once inside the bedroom, I can hear the shower running through the cracked bathroom door. My heart pitter-patters right along with the falling droplets. Taking the gun from the back of my shorts, I place it on the dresser. I pace the room for a few seconds, fighting nerves.
Enough stalling. I open the bathroom door and step into the steam. The sound of water over tile gets louder, the steam cloying my lungs and clinging to my skin until I feel my hair sticking to the nape of my neck. My breaths are audible to my own ears, and I try to calm myself.
He doesn’t seem to notice me, so I get closer until I’m standing almost against the glass. On a deep inhale, I reach for the hem of my tank. The door slides open, making me jump. His fingers wrap around my wrist, and he yanks me forward until I slam against his enormous body. Hot water drenches my tank top and shorts instantly. The door closes behind me, enclosing me in here with him.
“Ah, avecita. Such a curious little kitten.”
I suddenly feel like cornered prey. Why did I think this was a good idea? Stupid, stupid, Anna. Adrenaline spikes my blood, and my breaths come out in rapid pants that I know he must be able to hear over the water. Before I can think it through, his fingers knot in my wet hair, tilting my head back before his lips slam over mine. This kiss isn’t gentle or careful, it’s hard and desperate—a man on the edge. His fingers leave my hair and grip my thighs, lifting me and slamming me against the tiled wall. My heart leaps in my chest, and I close my eyes, trying to drag desperate breaths into ever-shrinking lungs. I know he’s naked, and I know exactly what that hard bar pressing against the inside of my thigh is. The more he touches me, the more that tiny grain of confidence I had, shrinks. You can do this.
I place a trembling hand against his chest, and he stills, his lips breaking away from mine. “You’re shaking,” he says.
I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
He groans. “You shouldn’t have come in here.”
I don’t know what to say, so I simply wind my hand around his neck and tug him closer until I can kiss him. My mind races right along with my pulse as I slide my free hand from his chest, down over his stomach. You can do this. I’m so close to touching him when his fingers wrap around my wrist. Tugging my hand away, he pins it to the tile above my head.
