“Come for me, Flowers,” he says, and I do, my body shaking and shuddering and convulsing.
He holds me close to him as my body comes down from the rawest, dirtiest orgasm ever.
We lie in the darkness together, our breath mingling. Our heartbeats slowing from a gallop.
“Thank you,” I murmur softly.
Armando lets out a chuff. “You’re thanking me? No, baby. You’re fucking amazing, Hannah.”
His words make my heart sing.
And that’s the real danger. Not how this man handles my body.
But how he handles my heart.
God I hope he doesn't crush it.
What’s even scarier is that he has the power to break my soul.
Chapter Twenty-One
Armando
* * *
I’m running through the streets of Chicago, being chased by the Hermanos. I get knocked down and cornered by the entire gang, all of them pointing pistols at me. But then the faces turn familiar—one of the guys in my face is Emilio, another is Harold, Hannah’s dad.
I climb to my feet and offer my chest as target. “Do it,” I say, but then I hear Hannah calling my name.
Armando.
Hearing her voice changes my plan. I can’t let her see me die. I can’t die when she might need me. I decide to try to fight my way out of it or to escape. I grab the wrist of the nearest guy to wrest his gun away.
“Armando!”
I gasp, sitting bolt upright in the bed, my fingers closed around Hannah’s wrist in a crushing grasp.
“Oh, shit!” I drop her wrist like it’s on fire then snatch it back up again, gently. I kiss her racing pulse. Her eyes are wide and horrified.
“I’m sorry, Flowers. I’m so sorry.” I press her wrist to my lips again. “I hurt you. Fuck.”
She’s naked, her beautiful brown breasts shifting as she adjusts to sit up as well. “It’s okay,” she whispers, looping her arms around my neck in a strangling hug.
I don’t deserve her forgiveness, and I suspect there’s sympathy mixed in there, too, which makes me itchy and angry, but I can’t reject her sweetness. She’s the fucking reason I want to live if I analyze the damn nightmare.
Our sex we just had before we passed out was… fucking animalistic, and I now worry. Am I being too hard on her? Am I allowing the darker side to come out of me too quickly?
Fuck. Am I fucking this up? I called her a whore. A whore!
Hannah deserves better. She deserves a man who can give her flowers and candy and whisper sweet nothings. I’m not this man.
“Let me make you feel good,” I beg because sex is pretty much the only thing I have to offer these days, and she fell asleep in the middle of last night.
She lets me push her to her back and crawl down between her legs, satisfying her with my tongue before I let myself sink my cock into her.
We finish and I roll out of bed and into the shower. It’s Arturo’s grandson’s baptism, so I have to put on a suit and go to mass this morning.
When I come out, Hannah heads into the shower, and I get dressed and make us coffee.
