Page 38 of Cartel Devil

“But it sounds like you were together for a while.”

“All of high school and first semester freshman year of college. But it’s been over for longer than we were together.”

“You grew up together. He knows you better.”

“He knew high school and eighteen-year-old me, but he doesn’t know me now. We’re friends, but we didn’t hang out before I moved down here. We float in different circles and only see each other at family gatherings. One night of talking to you, and you know adult me better than he does.” Better than almost everyone.

He nods, but I can tell he isn’t convinced. He looks so uncertain of himself, and it’s rather endearing. I shake my hands free, and he looks like an abandoned kitten. I wrap my arms around his waist like I did outside.

“Joaco, I wasn’t trying to pay you for sex with cupcakes. I wasn’t trying to sneak out. I wasn’t trying to get you to leave. I wanted to have breakfast with you and maybe even spend the day together. I never got the chance to say that. You got dressed and ran out like your ass was on fire. I thought you didn’t want me once you were sober.”

His eyes widen before he gives me one of his serious stares that tells me whatever he’s about to say is as solemn as the Gospel.

“I may have been a bit tipsy, but I was never drunk. I knew what we were doing the entire time. I shouldn’t have been so careless. And I should’ve given you a chance to speak rather than getting my feelings hurt and running away. I’m so embarrassed.”

He finishes on a near whisper, and I feel the shame rippling off him. My heart expands, making more room for him to burrow a little deeper.

“Don’t be. We’re equally to blame for the misunderstanding. But why wouldn’t you talk to me when we were at Sera and Carmine’s? You just—you just—” I shrug and shake my head.

We’ve been standing just inside the bedroom, a healthy distance from the bed. One of those is what got us into this situation in the first place. His gaze shifts away from me and toward the window. It seems easier for him to explain whatever he’s about to say if he’s not looking at me. Even though his face is turned away, I can still see the guilt in his expression, and the slight hunch of his shoulders tells me how uncomfortable he is sharing his emotions. I doubt it’s something he does often.

“Being the center of attention with strangers is my worst nightmare. I know Carmine way too well, but I don’t know Sera that well. I want to get to know you, but I thought you’d already rejected me. You were so uncomfortable that I feared making it worse. I knew I should’ve spoken up, but I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to give Carmine any ammunition since I would’ve killed him at his dining room table if he’d said anything to make it worse.”

“How could it have been worse? I didn’t think before I spoke when I mentioned Alejandro’s parents.”

His brow furrows before his entire expression softens. This man who can kill with his bare hands—hell, with his pinky—looks at me with such kindness that my heart aches.

“Chiquita, thank you for being considerate, but it didn’t bother me. I thought the same thing about my tía and tío. There isn’t a day I don’t miss my father, and there isn’t a day when I don’t wish Mamá still had Papá. But I don’t fault you for not knowing me well enough to think about them before speaking.”

“And the movies?”

He runs his hand through his hair. He stares at me before his gaze drops to the floor.

“I haven’t dated anyone in years. I bungled the invitation. I knew that while we were on the phone, but I got nervous. Then you were attacked in the restroom. I wanted to ensure you were safe, and I still had a duty to protect Toria. I should’ve calmed down more before returning to the theater, but I hated thinking you might believe I ditched you or something like that. I didn’t trust myself not to hold onto you too tightly if I dared touch you. I wouldn’t have let go. By the time my anger and fear subsided, you thought I wasn’t interested. I couldn’t talk to you about it during the movie, and you seemed like you just wanted to go home after that. By the time I took you home after the fight in the bar, it seemed like it was too late to salvage what we had at the reception.”

He brushes the back of his fingers against my left cheek before tipping my chin back.

“Regardless of what happened before today and what we might discover, I want you, Tre. I want to get to know you and spend time with you. I don’t want to hide my interest, and I don’t want to worry that I missed my opportunity. If you want to give me a chance, then I want that too. If you don’t, then we’ll figure out whatever may or may not have come of that night and can hopefully be friends.”

I go onto my toes and brush my lips against his like he did to mine downstairs. He pulls me against him so tightly I can barely breathe, which is hard to do anyway with the way he kisses me. I give myself over to it as his tongue sweeps the inside of my mouth. I can taste the hint of beer, which I’ve always hated when I’m kissing a guy.

I don’t mind it with him. I’d been drinking at the reception, so the alcohol on his breath hadn’t been noticeable. Instead, now, it just heightens one of my already overstimulated senses. With my eyes closed, the feel of his tongue against mine is erotic as fuck. His cologne surrounds me, familiar and enticing. I hear my moans, and I remind myself we’re in someone else’s home.

“Chica, I missed you.”

His tone’s soft—gentle and reverent. It’s arousing as hell. My hands glide up his chest until I can wrap my arms around his neck. Even on my toes, the best I can do is kiss his jaw unless he leans forward.

“I missed you too.”

We continue to kiss, and I feel how hard he is. It reminds me of what I’ve been missing. But it’s not just the most spectacular sex of my life that I want more of. I want more of the conversation and ease that came from hanging out. More of what’s been absent the last three times we’ve seen each other.

His hands slip from my waist to my ass, making my pussy grind against his cock. He groans, and I feel him twitch. I can’t help but giggle, which earns me a growl in response.

“Don’t tease me, chica. I’m barely keeping myself from mauling you.”

“Is it really mauling if I want it?”

His hands squeeze my ass to the point where I want to shy away while also pushing back into his palms. He lifts me, and my legs go around his waist. He carries me to the bed, and for a moment, I both fear and wish he’d fuck me on it.