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My ego thuds a fist against its chest.
Her crystal-clear eyes darken as I grip her chin and tip her face up. Then I do what I told myself I wouldn’t. I take her mouth.
Deeply. Forcing her to let me in. Demanding her tongue tangle with mine. Like I have every right to violate her perfect mouth with my demanding thrusts.
I half expect her to bite me. Or slug me in the side of the head with something. What I don’t expect is the throaty growl she lets slip from her.
If I wasn’t in trouble before. I. Am. Now.
Because she tastes like honey, and fire.
And dark, sinful pleasure.
She meets the kiss head on, just like she did the man with the gun, and matches my invasion, taste for taste. Thrust for thrust.
Suddenly, I’m not sure who owns the kiss. But I don’t give a fuck. I’ll take everything the fire-breathing vixen wants to dish out.
I like it hot.
The hotter, the better.
A knock sounds on the door. “Doctor!” The nurse breezes in before I can untangle myself from Simona.
“Ohhh. Lo siento.”
“No pasa nada,” I reply, breathing raggedly.
The nurse clears her throat. “The medication… we have no more.”
Gripping the bed railing, I try to get my head back online. “Which one?”
“The pain medication.”
“What do you have?”
She rattles off three medications.
“That’s it?”
“Si. We have no more. It’s very difficult to get medication in San Miguel.”
When I glance at Simona, she’s flushed and looking a little dazed. “Do you have Lyrica?”
“No. None.”
In Spanish, I ask, “What do you give patients who cannot have opioid medication?”
“Nothing,” she replies in English.
A choking sound comes from Simona.
Gritting my teeth, I say, “We have a problem.”
CHAPTER FIVE
I wretch and shake as the pain sets in, hard. This sucks! Scotch holds my hair back and wipes my face with a cool towel.
God. I hate being sick. It’s so… vulnerable.