[English] The Viper

The Viper
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Which led her to wonder why, of all the people in the world, did Marcos admit it to her. She got the impression he didn’t trust easily. If he was anything like his cousin Chuito, he likely didn’t trust at all, but he had just spilled his guts out to her at Hal’s Diner today like they were the oldest of confidants.

Which meant she wasn’t the only one who felt this connection. With her eyes still closed, she remembered the way Marcos had looked at her, like she was the most beautiful, tantalizing woman in the world. It was so bizarre for Katie, who never considered herself anything more than plain at best.

She’d gone through high school with her nose in a book.

Grayson was the first man she had ever kissed, and that wasn’t until her junior year of high school. He’d always made it very clear that her mind was what appealed to him, and *** with him had been like everything else in their relationship. Neat, scheduled, and to the point. Tuesday and Saturday nights were usually slotted for evening intimacy, well spaced during the week and usually finished before the local news at ten.

For some reason, Katie didn’t think *** with Marcos would be on a towel spread out under her to protect the Egyptian cotton sheets, quick and efficient to ensure they heard the full weather report before bed.

For just a moment, she allowed herself the luxury of fantasizing about something other than ordinary and boring. As sad as it was, for years even her fantasies had been bland because she had no point of reference to extend them. The romance novels, even the really steamy ones, were so far outside her reality, she could never put herself in the spot of those beautiful heroines, with their gravity-defying tits and tiny waists.

Now, for just a moment, fueled by those hot looks from Marcos before he had left, she was able to believe that one man in this world actually thought she was valuable for something beyond her mind. As she sat there, she realized that though she knew Marcos was probably as dangerous for Katie’s nice, neat little world as he claimed, she also knew she was utterly sick of nice and neat.

She wanted something a little edgier. A little risky. She wanted tattoos instead of a briefcase. She wanted someone to like her tits instead of her degree.

She got out of the tub and craned her head to look in the mirror as she stood there dripping. She found what she expected—an ass that had always been a little too big and hips that could afford to lose a few pounds too. Her tits were nice, even she knew that, but they still had those little white lines on the side, and they were too full to ever defy gravity.

Even with the flaws, for the first time in her life, she believed a man could think she was beautiful just as she was. She saw it today in the diner. She felt it in his touch, and maybe she’d known it all along. Maybe there was such a thing as soul mates. Her brother worked at the only car dealership in Garnet County, and he always said there was an ass for every seat.

Well, maybe there was an ass for every man too.

And she got the distinct impression the man her particular brand of ass was made for might not be the safest bet, but he just might have the biggest payout for Katie even if no one else in the world understood it but her and Marcos.

He was dangerous. She knew that now for a fact. He’d flat-out admitted it, but she knew he wouldn’t hurt her, had absolute confidence in it after he’d faced down a DUI rather than leave her alone. That was no small sacrifice, especially considering his past. If he could take that sort of risk for her, then she could do the same for him.

Six months ago, she wouldn’t have believed she would be confident enough to seek out *** from any man, let alone a handsome, MMA fighter who could have any girl he wanted, but the accident changed her. Marcos changed me. She liked who she was because of him too much to let him go without a fight.

She picked her phone up off the floor and logged into craigslist.

Still buck naked, she went ahead and posted one more message.

* * * *

Marcos sat at the small table in Chuito’s kitchen, looking at the water bottle in his hand and trying to ignore the feeling of loss that sat heavy in the center of his chest. “I’ll just head back in the morning.”

“Hey, man, you don’t have to take off so fast.” Chuito turned from washing up the dishes they’d used for dinner. “You’re here now. Stay for a week. You’re off probation, and it’s not like you got a job to go back to.”

Marcos wanted to stay.

Chuito was the only cousin he had left, but he shook his head in denial. He couldn’t tell him that if he stayed, he’d give in to the temptation of Katie Foster and do something even Marcos would have the good graces to feel bad about. He wasn’t going to give Katie another reason to hurt. He’d done that enough already, but instead of explaining all that, he just said, “Nah, I already texted Angel after I left that diner today. He’s got lots of **** to keep me busy.”

“Marc—”

Marcos lifted his head and glared at his cousin, almost daring him to try for a lecture. They both knew Marcos got dealt the ****ty hand. He’d been in prison the night Clay Powers had scouted out the underground MMA scene in Miami and decided Chuito had potential to be a professional. It could have just as easily been Marcos, but instead he’d taken the fall for all Los Corredores, including Chuito, who’d stolen most of the cars Marcos ended up serving time for.

“Don’t let Angel talk you into living there. The more you’re obligated to him, the harder it is for you to get out, and he knows that,” Chuito said after a few tense moments. “And the heat does most of their raids at night. If you’re sleeping there, then—”

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“I’m keeping my place,” Marcos assured him. “He’s not going to own me.”

Chuito put a glass into the strainer by the sink and sighed. “You know I have money I can give you.”

“No, send it to Tía Sofia. She needs it more than me.”

“My mother does all right,” Chuito promised him. “I just bought her another car. I have it to spare, Marc, and I’d rather you take it than—”

“The car was pretty badass. Lexus LS430. Very nice. I forgot to tell you how much I liked it.” Marcos gave his cousin a genuine smile because he was happy for him. “You should see your mother in it. It’s nice seeing her happy. She’s proud of you.”

“I appreciate you spending so much time with her,” Chuito whispered, sounding torn and miserable. “I wish she’d moved here, but—”

Marcos laughed. “Yeah, right.”

Chuito turned off the sink. “I keep hoping that maybe—”

“We don’t even know how you live here. Tía Sofia. Forget about it. She’d hate it here.”

“This place is all right.” Chuito walked into the living room, pulling his shirt off as he went, and Marcos got up and followed him. “It grows on you after a few years.”

“You stick out, bro. Big-time.” Marcos flopped down on his cousin’s bed and looked at the ceiling. “I’m surprised there aren’t more car alarms and video surveillance. You’d think they’d all have them installed when your Boricua ass showed up.”

“Speak Spanish,” Chuito said in Spanish and then touched the wall next to his bed. “The walls are paper-thin. Jules had the apartments made after she bought the place, but it wasn’t designed that way. She can hear everything.”

Marcos looked at the wall, thinking of the pretty redhead, Alaine, who lived next door to Chuito. He knew his cousin had a thing for her. It was the only possible reason Chuito was still living over Jules Wellings’s office rather than getting a bigger place. He was a UFC champion, for ****’s sake, but he lived like the same struggling amateur he’d been when he moved to Garnet five years ago.

“She hears everything?” Marcos asked in Spanish, raising his eyebrows as he grinned at his cousin. “Makes it hard to bring women over.”

“I don’t bring women over.” Chuito tossed his shirt into the hamper and then rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’m going to take a shower. Unless you want to go work out at the Cellar.”

“**** the Cellar,” Marcos said bitterly. “I can work out at home.”

“Maybe if you stayed, showed them what you could do, start training with me and Tino, they’d reconsider giving you the fighting spot. You know Tino is Jules’s brother-in-law. They do listen to him and—”

“No.” Marcos closed his eyes and rolled on his side on Chuito’s bed, trying to block the image of Katie’s wide-eyed look of horror when she realized Marcos had actually killed some of the assholes responsible for Juan’s and his mother’s deaths. “I need to get the **** out of this town.”

“What happened at Hal’s today?” Chuito asked in concern.

“I gave her a reality check.”

“Probably for the best,” Chuito said rather than argue. He looked at the wall as if sensing Alaine on the other side. “Girls like them—”

“Yeah,” Marcos agreed before he could finish, and asked something that had been nagging at him for the past few years. “Are you ****ing her?”

“Her?” Chuito gestured to the wall in surprise. When Marcos gave him a look, Chuito snorted. “Her dad’s the preacher at that big Baptist church on the edge of the town. ****ing Alaine is not an option. Trust me. I shouldn’t even talk to her.”

“But you do? Talk to her, I mean.”

“Yeah.” Chuito shrugged and sat on the bed, still looking at the wall, the longing palpable. “It’s strange. She doesn’t see the bad side of anything, even when it’s looking her in the face. She’s like, too good, you know? Sometimes, being around her, I start to forget the bull****.”

“She makes you forget where you came from, you mean?”

Marcos wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but he was starting to understand. Sitting with Katie today, it made him want to believe in the possibility of a different life. An impossible one.

Chuito turned back to him, considering it for a second before he nodded. “Yeah, pretty much. Then I find out Angel’s bringing half of Los Corredores to the next fight. Talk about a ****ing reality check. I don’t need the Cellar anymore. I got gyms all over Miami offering to sponsor me. My mother won’t move here. You know we’re never on the same page. She has you, but to be away for so long after she already lost Aunt Camila and Juan—” Chuito’s voice cracked on his brother’s name, and he shook his head. “I know I need to move my camp back home, but I just—”

“Stay here,” Marcos told him with certainty. “Your mother wants you to stay here. I do too. One of us needs to get out and stay out. Our family ****ing deserves that much, and you know if you come back—”

“I know.” Chuito looked at the wall again. “It’s just… It was easier when Alaine was nineteen and so totally ****ing naive she didn’t even understand what the danger was when it came to this”—Chuito gestured back and forth between himself and the wall—“but it’s not so easy now. It’s been really ****ing difficult for a while. I’m starting to think moving back home is worth it. I can’t keep doing this.”

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“What’s not so easy?”

Chuito’s look was haunted when he turned back to him. Then he got up and walked to the door rather than answer. “I’m taking a shower.”

* * * *

For once, Marcos was in bed before midnight.

He lay on the couch in Chuito’s living room, trying to let sleep claim him. He’d had almost no rest since leaving Miami, and he should be dead to the world. Instead he was staring at the ceiling, listening to the rain outside, and trying to will away the storm of thoughts that were plaguing him. Some of it was typical, like the conflicting emotions being around Chuito always caused. He’d missed his cousin. They’d once been closer than brothers, best friends, but they had been through too much together. All his darkest memories had Chuito in them. They had the same blood on their hands and the same stains on their souls. He, more than anyone, understood why Chuito stayed in this backward, redneck town. To hide from it all. To pretend, if even for a moment, that all that terrible **** hadn’t happened.

Marcos wanted to hide too.

Preferably in the soft spot between Katie Foster’s lush tits.

When he thought about it, Marcos realized he had never been with a gringa before, and he found himself fantasizing about her, imagining a soft, pink *****. He guessed that she would smell sweet, like the scent of strawberry bodywash he caught off her today. She would probably taste even sweeter. His mouth actually watered, and he had to reach down and adjust himself as he got fully hard thinking about it.

Against his better judgment, he pulled out his phone and went to craigslist, looking for Katie’s old messages and hoping Chuito was actually asleep for the night. His cousin seemed worn out too, as if he fought the same demons whenever Marcos visited.

With luck, Chuito was passed out, because those messages were better than porn at getting Marcos off, and he was having a very hard time letting go of the dream after driving all this way just to touch her. Sleep wasn’t exactly forthcoming. He might have to help things along.

He was just planning to read all the old messages he’d read a dozen times before, except they weren’t all old. There was one that was new, glaring at him from the top of the list before he even had a chance to search.

Man with unusual snake tattoo who “ran” into me on New Year’s Eve in Garnet—w4m

I’m tired of playing it safe. The slow lane has left me with nothing but regrets, and I know it’s been even harder for you as you speed through life on the other side. Maybe it was never about positive or negatives. Maybe it’s about meeting somewhere in the middle instead.

I want us to collide once more, this time on our terms, and I believe you want that too.

I’ll leave the light on.

Marcos stared at the post as his pulse thundered in his ears, and his **** strained against the waistband of his underwear to the point of pain. He couldn’t even form a coherent thought past the single offer of leaving the light on. The need throbbed through his entire body, making all his muscles tight in a raw ***ual desperation he had never experienced before. Usually, he simply took what was offered, and there had been plenty.

He’d never come across forbidden fruit like Katie Foster before.

Never denied himself.

And it was made all the more difficult knowing she was willing if he could just get over that pesky little voice of a conscience that had chosen a really bad time to make an appearance in his life.

He looked at the time on his phone.

11:48 p.m.

And then he went back, read the message again, and noted that she’d posted it over three hours earlier. He was just wondering how late the light was actually going to stay on when a shout broke the darkened silence in the apartment. It was so full of fury and violence that Marcos sat up instinctively, reaching for the gun he usually slept with under his pillow.

This time it was still in the truck.

“That’s for Juan, you worthless piece of ****! I hope you rot in hell, you mother****er!”

Marcos looked to the open door to Chuito’s bedroom, feeling a shudder of something cold and unpleasant roll down his spine when he realized it was more than a dream Chuito was acting out.

It was a memory.

* * * *

The guy had been dead for at least ten minutes, but that didn’t stop Chuito from kicking in the head of the prone and lifeless body of a rival gang member. One of six who’d fired the bullets into the house where Marcos and his mother had lived with Aunt Sofia, Chuito, and Juan. Maybe the dead asshole now sprawled out on the ground was the one who’d fired the bullet that killed Marcos’s mother. Or his cousin Juan, so smart and full of optimism, very different from Chuito and Marcos at that age. They’d already been cutting school and stealing cars by thirteen, but Juan got straight A’s instead. They all thought he would be the one to go to college. He wanted to be a physician, and Marcos had joked that it would be very convenient to have one in the family. A doctor wouldn’t call the cops on them for every damn injury. Now Juan was dead, and this ****er could have been the one to do it. That was the only thought Marcos had as he watched Chuito stomp on his face until it was no longer recognizable as human.

Marcos wasn’t even affected by the gore. He just stood there, keeping an eye on the end of the alley, with his finger on the trigger of his GLOCK. His gaze was completely dispassionate every time he glanced back to see teeth and blood spattered over the pavement.

“Oye, Diego!”

Marcos stiffened, stepping past the edge of the alley to look down the road to the club. He recognized the other members of Diego’s gang, now searching for their missing brother. There were four of them. Usually that would be bad odds, but Marcos was fearless, and he knew Chuito was too.

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What was the worst that could happen? Death? What did it matter? Neither of them wanted to live with the guilt of knowing those bullets that had killed Juan and Marcos’s mother were meant for them instead.

“I recognize one,” Marcos told Chuito.

Just like he had recognized the guy Chuito beat to death in this alley, because Marcos had dashed out of the house that night as the bullets riddled the house. GLOCK in hand, he’d gone after the two cars on foot, running until he couldn’t see them anymore as they sped off in the distance. Marcos always had a weird memory when it came to cars. All the little details stayed with him. The faces in the windows. The license plates. Maybe it was just everything about that night in particular that was burned into his brain. Whatever the reason, it had made it very easy to hunt down the ****ers who’d destroyed his family.

Too easy.

“Guy in the red shirt.” Marcos made eye contact with his cousin, who had stepped away from the body. Seeing that Chuito was going to concede the next one to him, Marcos tucked his gun into the back of his jeans, because they’d decided to kill each of those ****ers responsible with their bare hands. “You can take out the others, but leave him for me.”

* * * *

Marcos was jerked out of the memory when the front door to the apartment opened. Again his hand acted almost of its own accord, reaching for a gun that wasn’t there. A blessing, he realized, as he caught sight of the long strawberry-blonde hair of Chuito’s neighbor.

Alaine.

She walked in like she owned the place, wearing only a thin white nightgown that was conservative but sheer in the dim light. It left little to the imagination, but this wasn’t Marcos’s kind of girl. Alaine lacked the real curves of a woman, but Chuito had always been strange like that. He’d liked the skinny ones back home too, no ass, but he never cared.

Maybe that was why he fit in so well here in gringo land.

“Toma tu tiempo, Marc.” Chuito’s voice from the bedroom was colder now, more dangerous and calculating. “Haz que el cabrón sufra.”

Marcos flushed, and he looked to the gringa, who hadn’t noticed him. She walked to the bedroom fearlessly, and Marcos realized now why she wasn’t running the other way. She couldn’t understand Chuito. He’d been speaking Spanish the whole time. She didn’t hear him, with harsh, unfeeling determination, tell Marcos to make sure to drag out the pain of death rather than just kill the guy.

“Chica,” he called out, because he wouldn’t want to go into that room when Chuito was having those sort of nightmares. “Hey.”

Alaine didn’t hear him. She just slipped past Chuito’s bedroom door and closed it behind her like she was in a dream too. As if she had done it a thousand times before and didn’t bother to notice the tattooed ex-con sprawled out on Chuito’s couch in his underwear because he wasn’t part of the routine.

He looked to the closed door cautiously, his body tense. He was half expecting to have to go in there and save her from Chuito, who Marcos knew from experience could lash out when he was having a nightmare. He’d shared a room with him for most of their childhood and gotten nailed more than once, because the drive-by wasn’t the only terrible **** that had happened to cause nightmares.

After a few breathless minutes, Marcos started to hear whispers. He couldn’t make out the actual words, but he could hear the tone. Soft, endearing, Chuito’s low voice mingling with Alaine’s gentle one.

What the ****?

Marcos knew his cousin wouldn’t lie. They’d depended on each other too much over the years to lie. Honesty was ingrained and bone-deep. If Chuito said he wasn’t ****ing Alaine, then it was true, but what was happening here? A hot preacher’s daughter slipping into his room every night in see-through nightgowns, and Chuito wasn’t doing her.

Had he really been fighting this same battle between conscience and **** over that skinny gringa who just walked into his room like she belonged there? For five years?

No wonder he was talking about moving back to Miami.

That sounded like hell to Marcos, but then he’d never been quite as disciplined as Chuito when it came to things like that. If there was a beautiful woman leaving the light on, chances were, Marcos was going to take her up on it.

Especially one he wanted with every fiber of his being.

Just once.

A single taste to make it easier when he ended up back at the warehouse in the next few days. To last him when he ended up in prison eventually.

Or dead.

He didn’t want regrets, but he didn’t want to hurt Katie for a taste of the other side either. He was searching for a compromise. This conscience thing was new. He hadn’t tested the boundaries yet. He wasn’t even sure where it was supposed to lead. He had been proud of himself for walking out of the diner today, even if he was hard and miserable and filled with the never ending what-ifs because he’d never had a connection like that before. He got the impression he might never again. It felt rare. Like something few got the chance to touch, but he’d left Katie sitting there because he’d realized the risk to her wasn’t worth it.

Now he was questioning all those good intentions.

Marcos had never done well with rules. If something tried to harness him, he almost immediately started pulling at the leash, fighting and snarling like a pit bull who’d been damaged by life.

He looked at his phone, noting the time and remembering he still had the police report from the accident in his glove compartment.

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With her home address on it.

His mind was screaming at him, reminding Marcos of every sin he’d ever committed and comparing it to Katie’s nice, orderly life spent molding the minds of eager young people, helping them reach their highest potential.

Kids like Juan had been.

Marcos needed to keep his Boricua ass on that couch. Even if it meant Katie’s life was never anything more than safe and boring. Lord knew, boring was better than the alternative. The fast lane was cruel to everyone eventually.

Marcos, more than anyone, knew it.

But he got up and pulled on his jeans anyway.

Chapter Eight

Katie couldn’t get into the romance novel. She was high-strung and antsy. Lightning crashed outside, and she jumped as the storm raged and the rain tapped against the windows. She should curl up and go to sleep, but she couldn’t relax. She’d checked craigslist on her phone at least a hundred times tonight, even knowing Marcos would never reply that way.

He had driven from Florida to avoid it the first time.

And it was very hard not to be flattered over that fact.

Katie wasn’t one of those women like Ashley who got lots of male attention. She’d always been kind of invisible to them. Not bullied. Just completely unnoticed. Not fat, but certainly not thin. Brown eyes. Brown hair. Unbelievably pale, even at the height of summer. She didn’t have a big personality or an overly sweet nature. She didn’t cook very well, nor did she have a high-powered job.

Her feminine market value was low.

She didn’t scream good wife material any more than she screamed *** goddess. It was probably the reason she’d jumped on Grayson the second he showed interest in her wits, if nothing else.

It was also the reason things soured so quickly, because Katie wasn’t a doormat either. She wasn’t able to just put up with the bull**** to keep a man. Since her divorce, she’d grown used to the idea of spending her days teaching and coming home alone, knowing she’d eventually retire to her little house like spinsters did from days gone past.

She spent a lot of time wishing she were more creative. Women like that were supposed to knit, weren’t they? That wasn’t happening, so she considered buying a cat instead. She was too practical not to try to plan for a simple but lonely future.

Until Marcos had showed up and disabused her of all those notions.

She checked her phone again like a lovesick fool, knowing it was probably sad to do so. Nothing from Marcos, just a bunch of texts from Grayson. Each one was more desperate and annoying than the last. It seemed he was stepping up his game since the little incident in the parking lot.

This was starting to become a real issue. She wished he would date Ashley and just leave her alone. She was so tired of him.

Katie was still pondering it when her doorbell rang.

She was so distracted, she didn’t bother to remember that it was past one in the morning. In fact, she forgot everything that had kept her strung tight and anxious all evening.

She was thinking it was Grayson. It was the first day of spring break after all. That could motivate him to stay up past eleven, and his texts were borderline stalkerish.

She grabbed her robe off the hook on the bedroom door and tied it on to cover her nakedness, because she had crawled into bed earlier in nothing but a pair of pink lace panties. The boldness it took to post that invitation on Missed Connections left her feeling frisky, and sleeping naked was one of the small benefits of living alone.

And that was when it hit her all at once.

The Missed Connections post.

The pink panties, uninspiring when she thought of Grayson being on the opposite side of the door, felt totally different when she considered the other possibility.

She looked past the window in the front room, her heartbeat now throbbing in her ears, her legs shaky, a pulse of something hot and undeniable between her thighs. Through the rain, it was hard to see the vehicle in the driveway.

“Who is it?” she called, her voice caught between a rasp of hope and fear.

She wasn’t even sure what she wanted the answer to be. Grayson was annoying but safe. She could snap at him and send him on his way like she had the thousand other times he’d shown up at her door.

As for the other possibility…

“You know who it is, chica.”

Katie sucked in a startled breath, that combination of fear and lust slamming directly into her solar plexus.

Ohmigod. Ohmigod. Ohmigod.

He showed up.

What seemed like a great idea two glasses of wine into her bath, was a lot more terrifying when the possibility was looking her in the eye, and she was wearing nothing but pink panties and a shaggy blue robe she’d had since high school.

Her eyes were wide as she stared at the door.

“You don’t have to open it,” he said on the other side, his voice resigned rather than angry, as if he could sense all her fears in the silence. “It’s probably better if you don’t.”

That wasn’t very comforting.

“****, that sounds all off.” Marcos groaned, as if reading her mind. “I’m not saying I expect something. I’m not that guy. It’s just you’re…you, and I’m me and— Coño, I shouldn’t have come. I just—”

Katie jerked the door open, because there was something about the low rasp of pain in his voice that spoke to her. The fear of the moment had caused temporary amnesia of why she had posted all those Missed Connections posts to begin with. She wasn’t sure what it was exactly in him that could somehow mirror all her own insecurities, but it resonated in her so strongly she couldn’t not open the door.

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Marcos stood there, protected from the storm under the shelter of the awning over her porch. His short dark hair was wet but standing up in inky spikes as if he’d run his hands through it repeatedly. The tight plain blue shirt he wore clung to his powerful chest and muscular arms like a second skin. The light from the house reflected in his pale eyes, making the emotion swirling in them stark and undeniable as his gaze ran over her standing there in nothing but the robe. The low dip in it must have made it obvious there wasn’t much beneath it.

“Ay Dios mio,” Marcos choked, his voice low in a way that made all the fine hair on Katie’s arms stand on end. He shook his head, as if doubting his claims that he didn’t need anything from her. “You shouldn’t have opened the door, cariño.”

Katie should ask him in, but she was still frozen in a pulsing, stunned state of lustful shock. As much as she enjoyed just being around him, a part of her couldn’t believe this was actually happening. To her of all people. She was supposed to date men like Grayson, not ones like Marcos, who bled raw *** appeal so potent she could almost taste it on her tongue. Everything about him was hard and unforgiving as he filled her doorway, those inked-up biceps now dripping wet and begging to be touched.

“W-what does cariño mean?” she asked rather than do the logical thing like invite him inside, because the way he had said it in that low, husky voice made it feel almost like a caress. She pulled her robe closed unconsciously, because his gaze kept dipping to the V of it. “You make me wish I’d taken Spanish in college instead of—” Katie’s rambling was cut off when he lifted his light gaze back to her face, that unbridled intensity still swirling in it to the point that she had *****ck in a breath because she actually felt a little faint. To say this was a situation she wasn’t accustomed to was a vast understatement. She pushed the door open wider in invitation. “I-I’m sorry. I’m being rude. Would you like to come in? You’re all wet. I can get you a towel or—”

She stopped when he grabbed her hand on the door and pulled her forward. Her nerves were such, she would have tripped, but Marcos caught her and wrapped his other arm around her back to keep Katie on her feet.

He smelled really good, like soap and man and rain, all things raw and natural. She closed her eyes, needing a few seconds to feel everything about this moment. Her emotions, her thoughts, her heartbeat, and the sharp, hard breaths she found herself taking. Everything was going wild, as if her world had just exploded in a prism of colors after a lifetime of nothing but black and white.

“One night.” Marcos sounded breathless too. As if he was experiencing that same coiling burn in the pit of his stomach that Katie was. “Then you kick my ass out of your house and promise to never post another message on craigslist.” He ran his fingers up her arm, tracing the scars the accident had left her with. “Try to forget I ever happened.”

She blinked at that, the frown marring her forehead before she even grasped the full meaning of his words. When she did, she shook her head in denial. “No.” She couldn’t promise that. Just couldn’t. She wasn’t going to give this feeling up for anything. She wasn’t going back to black-and-white again. “No way.”

“Promise, Katie,” Marcos urged, sounding hard in a way that made it obvious he wasn’t used to people arguing with him. “Do it, and I’ll—” His voice cracked as his gaze slipped back down to the curve of her breasts. Some of the fierceness left, replaced with a smooth, compelling tenor that melted like honey off his tongue. “I’ll make it good. Very good.”

That slight accent she’d noticed a few times before became more pronounced now, but all the more compelling because of it. Katie actually shivered in response. She almost agreed, but she was stronger now than she’d been before the accident. She shook her head instead. “Please don’t ask me to do that.”

“I have to.” His thumb swept over the scars on her arm again, as if reminding himself. “Let me do the right thing. It’s not just about you. It’s about me too. I need to know I can make the right choices. That I’m not all bad.”

“I know you’re not bad at all,” she said with such conviction tears welled in her eyes. “Bad things just happened to you and—”

“I was doing a lot of illegal **** before my mother died.” He cut her off with grim certainty. “A lot.”

Maybe, but that was in the past, and right now all she could say about it was, “I think you’re wonderful, Marcos.”

Katie knew it sounded adolescent and left her vulnerable in a way a full-grown woman with a divorce under her belt shouldn’t be capable of. Another man might mock her for it, but it affected Marcos very differently. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and seemed to waver.

She thought, for just a moment, he would turn around and leave.

Then he cursed in Spanish and cupped her face in both hands, his palms rough against her cheeks as he looked down at her, his gaze now molten with something hot and so tangible Katie could almost taste it. She licked her lips in response, and he groaned, just a small sound of agony that escaped him as he studied her mouth.

“Promise.” His voice was raspy, almost shaking as he took another harsh breath. “Please, Katie.”

Her heartbeat was thundering in her ears now. Her panties were positively soaked from the wild undercurrent of desire that chose that moment to swell up and drown her. It almost felt like torture, some primitive form of manipulation that had her wanting to agree to anything, absolutely anything, Marcos wanted.

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She licked her lips again, looked into those beautiful eyes that had haunted her dreams for months, and took another deep breath before she whispered, “N-no.”

“Why are you so ****ing stubborn?” he snapped, and if he were a different man, she would’ve flinched from the stern sound of it. “Do you know what I’ll do to you if you say yes? I will have you sweating and moaning all night. I swear, just—”

“No,” she said again, this time stronger as she stood there steadfast, her face still between his rough hands. “I need more than one night. I’ve never been with anyone but Grayson. Never even kissed anyone but him. I’ve never had a man look at me like you do. I probably won’t again after you leave and”—she tried to fight his hold to shake her head—“no.”

His breathing was noticeably uneven now, his muscular chest rising and falling in the way a frantic wild animal might do. He opened his mouth, looking like he might say something, and then, just when she thought she might die from the waiting, he said, “**** it,” and used his hold on her face to pull her closer, tilt her head back a little farther, and leaned down until his warm breath was fanning across her lips. Still he stopped there and pleaded, “Say it.”

She stood on her toes, clearing the space between them, finally bringing them together and whispered against the soft, smooth feel of his lips, “No.”

He smiled. Just a trace of it, but she knew it was there because she felt it. Just like she felt the strong, unrelenting thump of his heart because her hand had ended up against his chest. She curled her fingers into the wet fabric of his shirt, and then closed her eyes, still trying to remember every single nuance about this moment.

He forced Katie tightly against his hard body. Chest to chest, he licked lightly at the seam of her lips, and the chaotic stream of thoughts rattling around inside Katie’s mind shattered to the moment. She parted to him, her entire being now focused on a single, silent prayer.

God, please.

Rather than fight it, Marcos pushed his tongue past her parted lips with a languid sweep and a low groan that reverberated through Katie clear down to her soul.

Sweet Jesus, she had no idea a kiss could feel like that. Warm, slow, indulgent. The pleasure was almost jarring, like the first shock of sticky sweet caramel on her tongue, tasting so good her mind couldn’t quite comprehend it, but she still opened for more, completely a glutton for the forbidden decadence. Little pulses of desire shimmered through her entire body, and she could actually feel her clit pulsing.

Somehow they ended up in the house, with Marcos’s hands in her long hair and his mouth on hers. Katie felt her back hit the wall, and she arched into him instinctively, silently begging for more, and something about the action changed everything. The kiss went from slow and languid to rough and desperate between one heartbeat and the next.

When his tongue thrust past her lips this time, it was harder somehow, more primitive. He tightened his fingers in her hair, holding her there as he nipped at her bottom lip. She opened wider, taking everything he wanted to give her. They were moaning and panting into each other’s mouths whenever they parted for air. The quiver of need between them was so violent, it became a physical manifestation, and both their hands shook.

When Marcos pushed his hips against her, she could feel the hard outline of his **** through his wet jeans. She fisted his shirt, stretched out the neckline as she gasped, and her ***** clenched from the rush of knowing he was aching too.

“Oh, I need—” She tossed her head against the wood paneling in the entryway. He responded by leaning down and sucking on the soft spot at the curve of her neck, making her jerk when the pleasure of it found a direct line to her *****. She couldn’t even begin to verbalize her desperation, but she tried. “Please, Marcos. I—”

She choked when he pulled at the tie to her robe. Katie had a brief moment where something other than blinding desire filtered into her consciences. She was too pale. Her tits were too big, too full; they weren’t tight and high like those girls in the spring break videos. They filmed those wild shows in Florida, where Marcos lived. All the girls in Miami were surely supermodel perfect, and her hips were too wide and—

Marcos groaned, and Katie squeezed her eyes shut tighter, feeling the heat of embarrassment burn from her face down to her neck and chest.

“****, you blush all over.” He ran his thumb down the valley between her breasts, his fingers grazing the edge of her right one. “That’s ***y as ****. Your skin’s just so ****ing smooth. Like, flawless. No tan lines, and look how you get all flushed just from making out.” He cupped her left breast with his other hand and grunted, his stomach muscles clenching noticeably. “I have a thing about girls blushing.”

“Y-you do?” She wanted to turn her head and hide her embarrassment, but it was captivating to watch the way Marcos stared down at her body, exposed now that her robe hung loose on her shoulders. It felt a bit like seeing a car accident—a part of her wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. “Why?”

“Hard to fake a blush. When girls get hot, they start getting all breathless and rosy and coño— You’re ****ing perfect.” He couldn’t seem to look away from her tits. He rubbed a thumb over her nipple, circling it reverently, making her moan and arch into him again. Screw embarrassment, her eyes closed because that felt wonderful. “I wonder what you’ll look like after you come.”

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“W-what?” she squeaked as his thumb continued to trace little circles over her nipple that was tight from the pleasure of it.

Marcos wrapped his arms around her back, forcing her to arch into him and holding her on her feet at the same time as he leaned down, sucking her nipple into his mouth.

Good God!

She had no idea anything could feel that good. She got weak-kneed, her body giving out and wanting to slide down to the ground, but Marcos was so damn strong. He held her up. She could feel his biceps clench under her fingers, because she was clinging to him like a lifeline.

Yet, even with all that strength, he seemed to be fighting the same battle for leverage. The two of them slid to their knees on the wood floor. The door was still open, rain was misting in on them, but she didn’t care, because all of a sudden all that hard, powerful strength was over her, crushing her to the ground. He moved his lips back up to her neck, and her body would’ve mourned the loss, but she was already in sensory overload. Everything felt good.

They were both breathless, and when he reached up, tugging her hair, exposing the curve of her neck, she just arched into the tight hold, giving herself over to it like an addict as he sucked and licked the line of her throat up to the tender spot behind her ear.

“I’m gonna eat you out until you scream, chica.”

Huh?

The meaning of his promise was lost until he slipped his free hand under the lining up her panties, touching her intimately, and her face flamed because she was so very wet, swollen, and aching.

“Coño.” He groaned, pushing a finger into her without invitation or warning. She gasped and jerked from the white-hot rush of pleasure as he breathed into her ear. “Oh, yeah, baby. I’m gonna taste that.”

Oh.

It hit her like a ton of bricks what he meant, and that was just, no.

No way.

She wasn’t supposed to do that with a guy on the first date. She’d been married for almost a year before she and Grayson had experimented with it, and then both decided it wasn’t on their menu. Good girls didn’t do things like that, and she knew she was supposed to shove him off her and tell Marcos about the rules, because the concept seemed lost on him.

But she wasn’t stopping him.

She wasn’t explaining anything. Instead she was lying there shaking and needy as he moved down once more. Sucking on her nipples again. Licking at the small white lines on the edge of her breasts as if he actually liked them. Lower against her stomach, and this was all so much more intimate than anything she had done with Grayson. Ever.

But she wasn’t stopping Marcos.

Not even a little.

She was helping him pull off those pretty pink panties. She wasn’t even worrying too much about her not so toned stomach or being completely exposed to a man she barely knew but felt this crazy connection with.

“Waxed.” He gave her a heart-stopping smile as he hovered over the most intimate part of her. His eyes glowed like blue fire in the dim lighting of the entryway. “Nice, chica. Very nice.”

Something caught in her chest, because the way he was looking at her was so genuine. “Do you mean that?”

Marcos leaned up to tug at the back of his shirt. He pulled it off in one fluid motion and then tossed it aside. Katie studied him, now bare-chested, showing off more tattoos. A cross over his left pectoral muscle caught her eye, resting right above his heart. She saw the words written above and below it. Names. His mother. Juan. A date was written down the middle. She understood it was the date they died.

She leaned up, touching the brand on his tanned skin. He cupped her hand over his heart rather than push it away as he asked, “What’d you say before?”

“I forgot,” she whispered.

Because she had.

She forgot about everything but this beautiful, damaged man, marked by life, hovering over her.

Needing her.

What the hell were vanity or rules next to that?

She lay down, giving herself to him. To whatever made him ache as deeply as she ached right now. “Do what turns you on.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, eyeing her in surprise. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.” She nodded. “If you need to forget, I want to help.”

Marcos didn’t hesitate. He leaned down and sucked on one taut nipple again, making her moan and arch her back. She threaded her fingers into his wet hair, holding him to her as he moved lower. His bare skin felt amazing against hers. So incredibly intimate in a way *** with Grayson had never been.

She watched the emotions play over his handsome face as he licked and teased her. A fresh sheen of sweat coated her body, making the slide of skin against skin slick when he was still wet from the rain. Her legs were parted *****pport his hard, muscular form over her, and when he ran his hand down her thigh and hooked his rough palm under her right knee, she let him open her wider.

Like a man born to recklessly take what pleasures life offered him, Marcos ran a thumb down her folds, forcing her to open for him. There wasn’t an ounce of hesitance or insecurity in him, not with this, not stripped bare and staring at her like he wanted to remember all this as badly as she did. Then he bent his head over her, and she watched, mesmerized by the sheer boldness in him as he sucked on her clit as if he owned it.

The pleasure was blinding. She couldn’t help but close her eyes against it. Her fingers tightened in his hair of their own accord, and for just a moment, she was worried it was too much. Then he pushed one finger into her, doubling the surge of bliss, and she couldn’t fight it anyway.

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She didn’t want to.

She cried out his name when his touch curved upward, hitting something inside her that made the feel of his tongue against her clit that much more potent. Grayson had never done it like that, forcing her to feel everything at once. It was overwhelming, but she let herself sink into the rapture of it simply because she had no idea how to stop herself.

“God!” Her legs were shaking as the coil of pleasure tightened too fast to control. She knew it was too soon, but she couldn’t stop it now. Katie pitched beneath Marcos, pulling his hair and opening wide to the onslaught when the ecstasy slammed into her embarrassingly fast. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

The apologies burst out of her as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. Katie’s entire body quivered from it. Her ***** clenched to the hard, fast rhythm of release, and he rubbed against that soft spot over and over in response to the unspoken plea.

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter when she felt herself coming again and tried to ride out the second climax as quietly as possible. She bit her lip, choking on her cries, but she knew her body was betraying her completely. Marcos could feel how strong it was, inside and out.

It hadn’t even fully waned before she became far too sensitive for his mouth, and she tugged at his hair. He surprised her by pulling away, but he was still stroking her with his fingers. Somewhere along the way, he had worked a second one in, and it felt amazing.

Marcos was over her now, watching her as ****ed her with his fingers. It dragged out her second release for what felt like forever, making her bite her lip harder.

He stopped touching her only to reach up and free her bottom lip. She didn’t know what shocked her more, the fact that his fingers left the tang of her *** there or that he leaned down and licked it away a second later.

“No hiding.” He breathed against her lips. “I like hearing it.”

She blinked, stunned by how much something so uncouth appealed to her. “O-okay.”

Katie’s body was still raw and tingling from two powerful orgasms, but she fought the embarrassment. When he reached down and pushed a finger back into her again, she didn’t stop herself from gasping at the onslaught.

“How come so tight, chica?” Marcos stroked her again to prove his point, making her clench around him.

“It’s, um, been a while.” She squeezed her eyes shut tighter as she admitted, “Been divorced a-almost two years.”

“Is that it?” Marcos sounded amused. His accent was pronounced now, and it only served to fuel the flame raging inside Katie, especially when he reached down and grabbed her right hand, pushed it against the crotch of his jeans, forcing her to feel the long, thick outline of his ****. “Or maybe that pendejo just didn’t fill you out like you deserve?”

“Oh.” She cupped him on instinct, watching the way his eyes grew heavy-lidded from her touch. She had to concede, it felt much bigger than she was used to. “M-maybe not.”

With a boldness and curiosity she’d never had before tonight she pulled at the button to his jeans and then tugged down the zipper. Marcos flattened both hands against the wood floor, supporting all his upper body weight, and then dropped his head to watch her free him.

“Ay Dios mio.” He groaned when Katie pushed his black boxer briefs down and stroked the length of him.

“What does that mean?” Katie asked as a distraction, because she couldn’t believe how thick he was, so much so her fingertips didn’t touch at the base, and she was stuck halfway between being nervous and so turned on she couldn’t look away from the sight of her hand around him.

She stroked him from root to tip, and then rubbed her thumb over the head of his ****, wondering what it would feel like pushing inside her.

“Oh my God.”

She blinked up at him. “W-what?”

“Th-that’s what it means.” He grunted and then arched into the embrace of her hand. “Ay Dios mio. Oh my God—****.”

Marcos reached down, struggling to find his pocket when his jeans were pushed low on his thighs. Gold-foiled packets spilled out on the floor, and he grabbed one, putting it between his teeth, but he seemed reluctant for her to release him.

“How many of those things did you bring?” Katie didn’t know why, but she giggled. He gave her a devious smile around the condom packet in response, and she laughed harder before voicing her concerns out loud. “I don’t think it’ll fit.”

He held the end of the gold foil, ripping into the condom package with his teeth before he spit out the top of it, and said, “It’ll fit.”

She was still laughing and not nearly as nervous as she should be. “*** with you is educational for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is the Spanish lesson.”

“Do not repeat any Spanish you learn from me in the next twenty minutes.”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Twenty minutes?”

“I jerked off in the car.” He didn’t look embarrassed by the confession. “And I always last longer the second time.”

She released him to cup a hand to her mouth, unable to believe he just admitted to that. “You did?”

“Yeah, I would’ve blown the second you came against my lips if I hadn’t.” He rolled the condom on himself, still completely unself-conscious. “I know my limits. You push every single one of them.”

She watched the way his hand moved down the thick, tanned length of his ****, feeling breathless again and deciding only Marcos could make putting on a condom ***y like this.

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Katie wrapped her legs around him, because she needed him in her, even if it was going to be a tight fit. She hooked her feet in his underwear that were pushed down over the smooth, tight line of his ass. Together they divested him of the rest of his clothes, and then there was just them, skin to skin. Words and humor were gone as quickly as they’d showed up, replaced with a surge of emotion she wasn’t expecting. She caressed his face when he lowered himself over her. He was heavy, the wood was harsh against her back, but she didn’t give a damn about any of it. The fire in those light eyes nearly consumed her as Marcos studied her.

“Katie—” His voice was choked. “I—”

She placed her fingers over his lips before he could finish. She could sense some sort of confession in his voice, and it was too much. She couldn’t hear it. Not if he was planning on leaving in the morning. It was crazy and insane and made about as much sense as any of the rest of it did, but she knew what he was going to say, and she cut him off at the pass.

“Just make me yours,” she pleaded, because she needed it desperately. “That’s what I need right now, Marcos.”

He groaned in defeat and buried his face in the curve of her neck. His lips felt like heaven, making a fresh sheen of pleasure dance over her skin. She turned her head, giving him better access as she traced the muscles of his back and let him work one hand between their naked bodies.

She could feel his ****, hard and ready against her stomach, but he touched her instead. The seduction felt slow, but she knew it was likely as fast as the first time as he teased her and stretched her and made her so wet and needy she no longer cared how big he was.

Katie was shifting and moaning under him, pushing herself up against his hand. If he didn’t do this soon, she was going to come again, and that was simply unacceptable. Usually, she only found a peak like that by herself. Three times under Marcos before he’d even made love to her was too much by anyone’s standards.

She gasped when he rubbed his thumb against her clit, and begged, “Please.”

He stopped touching her and pushed his other hand into her hair, tugging it pointedly and looking down at her again. “I like to watch. I wanna see your face when I take you.”

She closed her eyes, feeling exposed and all the more turned on because of it. “O-okay.”

He shifted over, and Katie helped, arching up when she felt him against her opening, pushing forward in a slow, indulgent claiming. When the broad tip of his **** breeched her, her mouth fell open because it was so much bigger than anything she’d experienced before. It didn’t feel like it should fit, but it did, just as he’d promised. Goose bumps spread over her skin, the pleasure was deeper than before, more potent, and she dug her nails into his shoulders when it started to overwhelm her.

She tried to bite her bottom lip again, but he growled, “No, let me hear it. Let me hear all of it.” He took her the rest of the way in one hard thrust that made her cry out from the surge of ecstasy. “That’s it, chica. Lemme hear you get off on me ****ing you like the ***y bitch you are.”

She gasped at his harsh words, because they made her feel as ***y as Marcos claimed she was, and that had never happened before. He buried his face against her neck again, and then bit hard enough to leave a mark.

The next time he spoke, it was in Spanish, but the words were just as harsh and jagged, breathless and defiantly ***ual in a way that was easy to understand, even if she couldn’t translate it.

Then he pulled out and took her again before she could catch her breath. Jesus, the friction was incredible. She really was filled out, and it felt beyond good. She found herself clinging to him as he took her hard, over and over again, making the pleasure build and build until she was dragging her nails down his back and coming before either of them expected it.

He rode out the storm with her, thrusting harder, extending the wild rush of ecstasy so long she was winded and sweaty when it started to wane.

Marcos was still moving, and she realized he hadn’t climaxed with her. His voice was ragged as he made those low, masculine grunts of pleasure against the curve of her neck with every thrust. When he did speak, it was still in Spanish, whispered against her ear like the confessions of a dying man.

She could feel the tension in him, in the muscles flexing under her fingers and the way everything about him seemed coiled tight, like a snake about to strike.

That seemed unfair, and she ran her hands up to his hair. She fisted it and lifted his head to claim his lips in a wild, openmouthed kiss. He pushed his tongue past her lips as he started moving faster, harder. Somehow, one of her knees had become hooked under his arm, leaving her completely open to the thrust of his hips against hers.

They were sweaty and sticky, and he really was a heavy man, but none of it mattered as she pulled back and said, “Go ahead. I—” He kissed her again and then slipped a hand between their straining bodies, finding her clit, making her aware of how wet she was, forcing her to feel what a messy, sticky business *** with Marcos was, and she loved it. So much so she moaned into their next kiss and just let him have his way with her, even if what he was asking for was impossible. “God, no. I can’t.”

But she could; she felt it building again.

She might not be able to walk tomorrow, but she was going to come again as he touched her and ****ed her and made her feel like a woman in a way she never thought possible. God, at that moment, she would have given this man her soul if she could.

“Hazlo de Nuevo. Deja escucharte.” Marcos punctuated the foreign pleading by tugging on her hair again and finally growled something against her ear that she understood, “Now, Katie!”