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Same cane he used to hurt Solimar. Piece of shit asshole.
“Men,” she huffs a laugh before raising a brow. “So, about that studio? Gabriel?”
“That’s simple.” Pulling out, I sit back and lay a possessive hand over her stomach. At only four months, it’s small and round and perfect. “I bought the studio shortly after meeting you. And two, I shipped him back to his country with a few broken limbs and the kind suggestion to never return.”
“Jesus. That’s just...”
“The truth. I’ve never hidden who I am.”
“I know.” A pinking tint spreads across her cheeks, and it’s not from my previous taking. “Is it horrible that I find those actions sexy?”
“Not at all. They just solidify what I’ve always known.”
“And what’s that?” Solimar bites her lip, her legs widening once more. Always so needy. Always so beautiful.
“That you were made for me.”
OUTTAKE
Dear Solimar,
I hope this letter finds you in a better place and away from the people who’ve hurt you, myself included. I’m sorry, prima. So sorry that I let myself get pulled into a stupid game of unfounded jealousy over a man not worth dog shit on the ground.
But this is all on me.
I made the mistake and forgot where my loyalties lie. I forgot who I am, and what I’ll never allow myself to become again.
Please know that I didn’t leave because of you, but because it’s the right thing to do. I need to work on myself, be a better person before this little one is born. He—because I truly feel it’s a boy—doesn’t deserve to live his life with a woman who’s more concerned with her looks than the well-being of her child. With someone so lost in her self-importance that she failed the one person who’s always been there for her.
I love you, Sol. I love you and I’ve hurt you, and for that, I’ll never be able to forgive myself.
Please be happy and hold on to the love you’ve found. He’s a keeper. A good man, and one day, I hope to be able to visit and see for myself the beautiful life I know you’ll build together.
Best wishes and all my love,
Laura.
“WHAT ARE YOU reading?” Alejandro asks, coming to stand behind me inside of my old room. We’ve been married since early this morning, a ceremony lit by the early morning sky and barefoot in the grand garden behind the presidential home. His mother and mine were there along with our siblings, everyone happy and excited over the joining of two families that refuse to be torn apart by greedy, worthless men.
It was the perfect ceremony.
What I’ve always dreamed of.
“Nothing. It’s nothing,” I moan low when his lips settle on my neck and pepper kisses up and down the expanse, nicking my collarbones before repeating the process. Because it is nothing and doesn’t change a thing. And maybe in time I’ll feel differently, but right now the only thing that matters and deserves my attention is this man.
Not someone who threw me away for a cheap thrill.
I’ve been wet for him since this morning, a needy little mess due to my desire to please and thank him for his love and devotion.
Because I see it. The stormy yearning that lives within us that consumes while nourishing our souls. We’ve always been meant to be, and I know that now. I breathe it in each time he looks at me.
It’s in our touch. Our kiss. The way we make love, demanding more from the other, and then soothing the aftershocks.
We’re always perfect, but tonight I want a little more. To explore something I know he wants.
It’s my wedding gift to him.
Hands skim my right side and pull the zipper down. The fabric parts and falls, catching on my hips before I shimmy and then step out. There’s something he doesn’t know and I’m a little nervous, but before he reaches out to grab me, I step back.
