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Now. Tomorrow. Always.
“You told her, didn’t you?”
“That might be a possibility,” I croon, rising onto the tips of my toes so I can nip his chin—something he likes if the small groan that escapes is anything to go by. Not that we care who hears us.
There are bodies being removed. There are people standing by ready to wash the evidence away.
But instead of moving, we stare into each other’s eyes and smile. I enjoy this stolen moment while wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him down to my level and kissing him with everything that I am. With every bit of the strong woman I’ve become by his side.
He is my heaven. My best friend.
And while our lives aren’t normal and death follows us, I wouldn’t change him for anything in this world.
1
MEET ME AT the office. ~Muñeca
She has the worst manners, and I absolutely adore that about her. That inability to ask me nicely—unless it’s my cock she wants. Then, she begs like the pretty little doll she is.
Because behind my woman’s hard facade is a wanton little slut that comes out for me. Only me.
But then again, she knows I’ll indulge her. That I love her just how she is:
Bossy.
Ballsy.
Beautiful.
I don’t reply to her demand right away. Instead, I make a right at the end of Malcolm’s drive and leisurely ride the brakes through the private suburbs where his house is the only one for an entire block. His is also the biggest, and I let out a low chuckle at the face his neighbor makes when my large pickup truck drives past his modest mansion.
But then again, it’s what you come to expect from those who work at the top of other financial firms. The Ashers are a particular bunch—manipulative geniuses—and like to keep other executives/CEO’s close enough to strangle if they so choose. It’s why my family and theirs have melded seamlessly in a way.
They approve of Mariah and love her more than they do me.
Especially Lourdes. That little shit has become my Muñeca’s right hand in some matters.
Like now. Her name flashes across my dashboard, but I don’t answer.
I’ll ignore everyone in her arsenal until the jefa herself calls or sends me the appropriate text.
I make another turn, and I’m heading toward the expressway that leads to the Asher building. Not that she knows this; the tracking device she put in my car last week—the twenty-fifth since we met—is at the bottom of a sewer near a local eatery we frequent three doors down from her favorite cafe and where I’ve taught the head baker personally how to make pan de bono for my morning coffees. The older woman in charge of the kitchen amuses me, spoils me, and lucky for me, she makes them almost as good as my mother once did.
There’s a ping before the text message appears on the screen.
PLEASE. ~Muñeca
“Good girl.” My foot presses down on the accelerator, pushing my truck past ninety within seconds. I’m not that far from our office and it doesn’t take me long to arrive, finding Mariah Lucas standing outside the entrance to the garage with a purse in hand and what looks to be a sleep mask. Before I put the car in park, she’s making a motion with her hand for me to lower my window, which I do with a grin. “Yes?”
“You’re late.”
“Am I? Wasn’t aware we were going anywhere.” This only serves to rile her up, and I get down before she throws her phone at my window. Instead, within seconds, I have my arms around the woman who owns me and my lips on hers. And fuck me, Mariah kisses me back with the same intensity. She’s nipping, fingers embedded in my hair, pulling the longer strands to hold me against her.
This kiss is passionate: beautiful brutality of lust combined with a debilitating love that makes the world fade away. Everyone could drop dead, and I’d give zero fucks as long as she stays as she is.
In my arms. Loving me with the same insanity. Being mine.
Mariah is the first to slow the kiss down to a few pecks; two to my lips and one on my chin and then Adam’s Apple as she lowers her stance. She’s smiling. That mischievous twinkle in her eye makes me want to chuckle, but I keep my expression neutral.
