Page 40 of Last First Kiss
”Time for bed, Tiger.” Once the towel was securely wrapped around her, he lifted her up again and walked to the bedroom with her.
He tugged gently on her lower lip. “Why are you pouting?”
She tucked her head into his neck, completely vulnerable and soft, and God, his heart swelled in a way he’d never thought possible. “It makes me sad when you call me Tiger. But it also makes me feel gooey and nice.”
“Sad?”
She didn’t answer, instead she yawned. Sitting her on the bed, he went searching for clothes. When he found a T-shirt, he slid it over her head and down her body, then reached under the shirt and undid the towel.
“Maybe one day you can tell me why it makes you sad.”
“It’s a secret.” Her eyes closed and she pressed her cheek against the pillow. The pill was starting to kick in.
“Maybe I want you to tell me all your secrets,” he admitted, but he wasn’t sure if she was even awake anymore.
He pulled the covers over her and looked at her for a moment. For such a tall, sexy woman, she looked years younger and so sweet on his oversized bed surrounded by pillows and blankets. He turned off the light and was walking out when she mumbled, “I’ll tell you one secret.”
“I don’t think that’s a good—”
“You promise not to laugh?”
“I promise.”
There was a long moment of silence and he chuckled. She must’ve fallen asleep.
Just as he stepped out the room he heard, “I’m a virgin.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Our sources tell us that shooting for El Traficante is set to start tomorrow amid major turmoil. It is believed that Gabriel Mendoza supporters have waged a small war against the government, opening up old wounds, as officials try to stop the protestors. During Mendoza’s heyday, it is reported that at least three flights filled to capacity with cocaine flew into the United States every day. For every million he made, he rewarded his employees and supporters, keeping them housed and fed. During this same time, the rest of Colombia was barely making ends meet, most living in poverty . . .
Annie’s shoulder burned and her face ached when she yawned.
How long had she been asleep?
Oh, fuck! The gala. She jumped upright, and then stopped moving when she felt her head spin from the fast movement and a sharp sting on her shoulder. Damn, Joey. Her pride had taken a nosedive and she was questioning her ability to do a good job guarding Rocco.
Slowly, this time, she moved off the bed. Shit, she looked down and realized that she was in just a T-shirt and had no recollection on how she got that way. Flashes of a bathtub, his rough strong hands washing her body, then him carrying her to bed. She could feel her face warm. He’d seen her naked.
Reaching for her phone, she slid off the bed and padded to the bathroom, looking at the time. Damn it, they had to leave in forty-five minutes.
Her hair was a rat’s nest, still damp. She leaned close to the bathroom mirror and touched the black and blue mark on her cheek, then looked at her shoulder and the angry red mark she was going to need to cover up.
Letting out a breath, she decided to start with her hair. Fumbling with a comb, she untangled the knots and then blow-dried it. She didn’t have any hair product, not that she had the first clue how to do any fancy styles, so leaving it in long waves was the best she could do.
Then she got to the real work. She took out all the makeup she’d bought the other day when they’d gone shopping and began applying it, making sure to pay special attention to her cheek. It took a while, but by the time she was finished, her face didn’t look puffy or bruised, and if it did, the red lipstick she put on distracted from it.
The dress Rocco had purchased for her yesterday hung in the closet, likely having been delivered earlier in the day. She unzipped the bag and hoped the alteration had gone flawlessly, because she didn’t have any time now to fix it.
She slid on her thigh holster and then tucked her ASEK, an army-issued knife, on the inside of her thigh, the Glock on the outside. Then she slipped on the long elegant black dress. She looked at herself in the mirror, surprised at how she looked.
Other than the director’s dinner party, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d dressed up. Too many years, and even then perhaps never this fancy. When she’d started sneaking around with Derek, she had dreams of evenings where she’d dress up and go out in public. Maybe not this formal, but . . .
She shook her head, it was time to work. Time to get all the distracting thoughts and memories out and turn her laser focus on. If there was a night where shit could go wrong, it would be tonight. The event was in an open space and most of the cast would be there. Things could get bad real fast.
As she applied a touch of lipstick she tried to ignore the tingle on her lips from the kiss she’d shared with Rocco last night. It had been a mistake. Something that couldn’t happen again. A mistake that couldn’t be repeated. The bruise on her face and shoulder should be a constant reminder.
With one final breath, she put her second Glock in her clutch, turned off the lights, and headed out to meet Rocco.
