Page 104 of Drawn Blue Lines

Right there. In the middle of the day. On a couch in Chapala, Jalisco, Mexico.

There was no thought. No reservations. No hesitation. My hands cupped his face, the now thick growth on his once clean-shaven face brushing against my palms as I pulled him toward me.

My breath hitched.

And then I kissed him.

Reckless and without rules.

It was everything I never imagined it would be.

I covered his mouth with mine, sweeping my tongue against his as if I owned it. As if I knew what the hell I was doing. Brody stilled, his eyes open wide with shock.

This was a mistake.

Just as I was about to pull back, he let out a low curse and cupped the back of my head, pulling me back against his lips. I started the kiss, but Brody owned it. His hands maneuvered my face, twisting it to his advantage so he could dive deeper, taste more, take as much as I’d allow. His primal groans awoke a dormant fire inside me, and I found myself chanting his name in between kisses.

A low growl rumbled in Brody’s throat, and I found myself in his arms as we made our way toward the bedroom, hungry kisses now frantic and fevered.

Once we fell onto the mattress, he leaned back, and the sound of his belt buckle hitting the floor drew my eyes up. He crawled over me, and took his time undressing me, revealing each piece of skin as if he were unwrapping a present.

“You’re so beautiful, Adriana,” he murmured, kissing his way down to my belly button and across to my hip. “So fucking beautiful.” His lips moved inward, his breath hot against my thigh.

I knew what he wanted, and any other time, I would’ve welcomed it. But not tonight. Tonight, I wanted his tongue inside the one place that only belonged to him.

“Brody…”

Hooded eyes gazed up at me, and then he smiled. He knew what I needed, and he waited to give it to me until I understood that asking for it didn’t make me weak. It empowered me.

His mouth found mine, his cock pressing at my entrance, hesitating as if asking for permission. I nodded, but he just stared at me, the want in his eyes relentless.

Say the words.

A surge of courage swelled in my chest, and despite the ruin that awaited us on the other side of that door, I gave him what he needed to hear.

“Make love to me,” I whispered, brushing a hand through his thick hair.

He closed his eyes as if soaking them in and then slowly pushed his hips forward, sinking inside me so torturously slow, every inch felt like a mile. When we were fully joined, he stilled, dropping his mouth and taking my lips in a deep kiss that took my breath away.

Then he loved me.

The muscles in his back bunched under my fingers as he moved. There was no frantic rush. No punishing thrusts. Just raw connection. We never stopped kissing, our tongues moving in sync with our bodies.

This was how I wanted it to end.

I was so lost. Our mouths remained connected, sharing the same breath as the tension peaked. “Tell me,” he growled in between pants. “Tell me in Spanish, I don’t care, but tell me.”

“Te amo. Me hiciste amarte, y ahora estoy perdida.”

And then he fell over the edge, dragging me along with him. Our combined groans were only masked by the sound of each other’s names. In the silence, Brody dropped his head in the crook of my neck, his damp hair sticking to my skin as I traced my fingers down the claw marks on his back.

Tomorrow we’d return to Mexico City, and everything would change.

Which was why I hoped Brody could only translate the first part of my confession. Even if he asked me to explain the part he didn’t understand, I’d refuse.

It’d be a blessing when I turned the only ones he did to ash.

Chapter Thirty-Two

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