Page 93 of Bad Blood

Something in his voice makes me pause.

“Is that why you’re dragging your feet, Santi?” I say slowly. “Do you not want me to make that decision? To leave as soon as my locks turn? You could have given me that money from the start, but you made me wait a week, even though the maximum damage you could inflict on my family was made the moment I said, ‘I do.’ The rest was just cartel posturing. A blown-up bar here, a political hit there—”

“A crate full of dead women down on my fucking dockside.” He leans back in his chair again to study me. “Are you saying youwouldn’tleave if I gave you the fifty-thousand?”

“You and I could never work, Santi,” I say with a sigh. “Even if we wanted it, there’s too much bloodshed under the bridge. What we have is hate lust. Hate fascination. It’s toxic and it’s beautiful, but it only ends one way.”

I remove the rings from my finger and place them on the desk between us.

“I’m not going to sleep with you because I want your money, or because I’m your wife and it’s my duty. I’m going to sleep with you, simply because I want to. Because it’s something that’s mine to give, without threats or coercion. You say that you’re this big, terrible man, so come on… Show me your worst. Destroy your enemy’s daughter’s innocence. Deliver that killer blow to my father, or deliver that killer blow to me if you refuse.”

Rising to my feet, my heart pounding, I slip my hoodie from my shoulders and pull my gray tee over my head.

His eyes darken, but he doesn’t move a muscle as I climb across his desk in my black panties. I’m halfway there when his willpower snaps, and he’s pulling me the rest of the way into his arms.

“You have no idea what you’re offering me,” he warns, settling me astride him. “But my dick can’t handle the way you just pussy crawled across my desk like that.”

“Good thingIcan handle it,” I whisper, digging my fingers into his hair like I’ve been wanting to do since I first entered his office.

“So young…so fucking delusional.”

“Kiss me… Make me forget.”

He tastes of bourbon and temptation—the devil’s favorite cocktail.

I can’t get enough of it.

I can’t get enough of him.

“Fucking fearless,” he repeats, placing a hand over my heart, and then he’s pushing me off him and rising from his chair. There’s a primal look on his face that’s both scaring and thrilling me.

Spinning me around, he bends me over his desk, thrusting against my ass so violently that I’m forced to lock my fingertips around the edges for purchase.

“Shit!”

“Firebird.” He covers me with his body crushing my breasts against the cool glass surface. “My beautiful, fearless firebird… I’m not capable of being gentle on a good day, but when I’m half a bottle of bourbon down, I’m goddamn vicious.”

Taking a step back, he flips me over again and drags my panties down my thighs.

“Open up,” he orders, ripping at the buttons of his shirt. “I know you’re going to feel as good as you taste.”

His body is to die for—broad, tan, bullet-scarred, tattooed, perfect—with a wall of muscle behind a trail of black hair.

“Pretend I’m not a Santiago,” I say, groaning as he trails a hand down the center of my naked body, while the other rips at his belt and zipper. “Pretend—”

“No pretending.” He pinches my nipple between his fingers, sending another bolt of desire shooting through my pelvis. “Not tonight.”

His clenched fist comes crashing down next to my head as he leans over me to trail that same wicked finger up through my soaking wet folds.

“This pussy,” he groans, shaking his head at me. “Thisfuckingpussy…”

He doesn’t ease me in with a finger. The smooth head of his cock is already pressing against my entrance. Like everything else with us, we’re pushing boundaries, breaking rules—

“Look at me.”

My eyes snap open.

“You’re right. I am going to destroy this cunt,” he says savagely. “I’m going to fucking mold it to me.”