Page 68 of Chris

Valeria’s shock at seeing Chris slip into her room only lasted long enough for him to close the door before she shot up off the bed like a bullet coming out of a gun. Her hands were already up, palms facing him as she came toward him, reading to push him back.

“You can’t be in here,” she hissed, “you can’t—he’ll be up any minute. You have to go!”

“Val—”

“Get out. This isn’t funny anymore, Chris!”

“Valeria.”

She wasn’t hearing him at all. Her hands hit his chest, and with all her might, she pushed him back toward the door. Or rather, she tried. Chris was a wall, tough as fucking brick, and unmovable. That didn’t mean she wasn’t willing to give her all, which he had to appreciate either way, as cute as it was.

Cute.

Yeah, that wasn’t the right word.

Chris had seen Valeria go through a gamut of emotions and situations since his arrival in Mexico. He’d seen her sweet and loving with her child. Sad and scared with her husband. Indifferent when no one thought she was looking, and she was alone with her thoughts. The woman was a spectrum of feelings—never settling on one thing for too long before she had to put on yet another mask to satisfy her husband, and whatever he was demanding of her for the moment.

But anger?

He’d never seen her with that.

Until now.

Chris had to admit, she looked damn good angry. A red flush colored her golden-brown skin and brightened her eyes more than they already were. Sure, that beautiful smile he loved faded, but that didn’t change his desire to kiss those full, sexy lips of hers at all.

Not in the slightest.

“Do you know what he’ll do to me?” Valeria demanded.

Her hands came up to shove against him again, but Chris was quick to grab her wrists that time. Locking her in place with his fingers like bars around her wrists, he dragged her into his chest without warning, and tipped his head down to press a fast kiss to her lips.

He had control.

Always.

Chris was the one who, in the middle of chaos, would be as calm as the eye of a storm. No matter what, he took great pains to ensure that was the case.

Except with her, it seemed.

There was something about Valeria, something in her soul, he thought, that called out to him, and shredded any sense of self-preservation or restraint he had left. He swore that he could sense her sadness and loneliness from across a crowded room, and he hated that. This woman should never feel those things—ever.

The second his mouth touched to hers, Valeria answered him back. She kissed him hard, her lips moving against his in a way that seemed familiar although it couldn’t be—he had barely touched this woman, and yet, a part of him felt like he had known her for his entire life.

How was that possible?

It was crazy.

Chris let Valeria’s wrists go just so he could cup her jaw and draw her even closer to him as his tongue teased the seam of her lips. He wanted in—wanted to taste her, and if that meant handing over his soul to this woman to get what he wanted, then fine.

So fucking be it.

Their tongues clashed, a war in a kiss, if that were possible. Her fingers found the neckline of his shirt, curling tight, and holding close. She seemed determined to lick the taste of him right from his mouth with her kiss, and as much as he liked that, he still needed to talk to her.

As he was learning, there were few times when he could get Valeria alone like this—she was so protected, so sheltered. Someone was almost always around to keep an eye on her, and that put Chris in a bad position when he needed as much time with this woman as he could get.

And not just for this.

Not for moments like these, even though he needed them, too. No, because this plan—which he hadn’t even figured out yet—would not work unless she trusted him. Inexplicably, and completely. This woman needed to trust him.