Page 118 of Falling for the Enemy

“Ya lyublyu tebya.” She slides her hand into my hair, fingers threading the strands and clutching them tightly as she drops her head back. “Always, Alejandro.”

“Such a sweet girl when you obey.” Her thighs begin to quake. “Give me your eyes, Hermosa.”

Again, she listens.

“You’re the curveball I never saw coming, baby. With just one look, I became obsessed, and with a single touch, your demons forced mine to their knees.”

My chest expands on a deep breath.

“You may have started as an obstacle I intended to overcome, but that quickly changed, and now you’re my entire fucking world.”

I smile, the foreign sensation that once possessed me each time my lips curved no longer a factor. “I never expected to fall for the enemy, but I’ll never love anyone the way that I love you—with every breath and beat of my fucked-up heart.”

My grip on her ass tightens.

“Always, Manzana.”

It’s the last thing I say before flattening my tongue against her clit and sweeping it upward, pulling a scream from her in just one stroke.

The sound goes straight to my soul.

A soul that, because of her, is now whole.

Ari

EPILOGUE

THREE YEARS LATER

It’s after midnight when I wake up alone.

Knowing exactly where my husband has snuck off to, I slip out of bed and pull on a silk robe, concealing both my flesh and the hand-shaped bruises that adorn my hips. Tying the red sash tight, I head down the hall, toward the last door on the right.

Once there, I stop.

Standing in the darkness and with my ear pressed to the wood, I listen for any sounds on the other side. Alejandro’s shuffling movements, followed by indiscernible whispers meet my ear, and a smile lifts my cheeks, wrinkling my eyes.

I can’t lurk out here any longer.

I need to be in there with him.

With them.

My breath hitches when I open the door and catch sight of my kingpin standing across the room, his strong hands curled around the top rail of our one-year-old son’s crib.

“Krasavchik...”

The muscles in his bare back twitch when I speak, and I want nothing more than to drag him back to bed so I can trace each of them with my tongue. One would think that after three years spent in one another’s arms, our appetites for each other would have fizzled out.

Nyet, that’s not the case.

If anything, we’ve become more starved, each touch we give and receive increasing our hunger tenfold. It’s maddening, yet trying to satiate our need for one another is always a delicious adventure.

“Come here, Manzana.”

I cross the room and slip into the opening he’s created between himself and the crib by taking a small step back. His arms band around me, hugging me tightly when my shoulder blades meet his front.

He holds me, his chin resting atop my head, as we both gaze down at our sleeping son, his golden blond curls falling over his forehead. The spitting image of both his father and Aunt Carmen, his hair color is the only thing he inherited from me.

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