Page 12 of Snatched Up By the Cartel

Our lives were so much better. We didn't have to worry about anything. The only thing we thought about was what we were going to do next time we had sex.

During the day, Mateo and I rarely spoke of the dreams. We didn't know much about what the other was going through. Despite spending so much time together, we didn't have much intimacy.

What was happening was kind of like an unspoken agreement — we acknowledged what we were going through was something we were still figuring out.

We went about our routine, our interactions marked by a newfound tension, a subtle awareness of the bond that existed between us.

It was not welcomed. It was very simple why it was like that. We didn't want to feel even more tense about each other. It just wasn't fair.

One afternoon, as we sat in our usual spot in the prison yard, Mateo turned to me, his eyes intense. "The dreams," he said, his voice low. "They're not just dreams, are they?"

I shook my head, my heart pounding in my chest. My body began to sweat. I didn't expect him to start talking about that. I thought we would keep ignoring our dreams until they stopped happening. But, it wasn't going to happen that way. Not anymore.

"No," I whispered. "They're real. They feel real, at least."

I knew I would have to admit that one day. It was happening today, apparently. This felt like another dream. It didn't feel real and yet, it was.

Mateo nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. It was as though he was looking right into my soul. Maybe he really was. Maybe it was his special power.

"They're more than real," he said, his voice rough. "They are telling us what we really feel about each other."

I swallowed, my throat dry. I knew he was telling me the truth. I kind of just didn't want the change. I knew it was going to be significant.

"I know," I said, my voice barely above a breath. "And I know that's exactly what's happening."

He searched my eyes as if seeking confirmation. And, he found it. It actually wasn't hard to find it. It was pretty much written all over my face.

"We're fated, you and I," he said, his voice soft but steady.

I knew what he was thinking. He was thinking it was impossible, that it shouldn't be happening. It challenged so much about what he knew.

After hearing his words, I nodded, my eyes dropping to the ground, unable to meet his intense gaze. He couldn't even blink. That was how much all of this affected him.

"I know," I murmured. "It scares me." I took a deep breath in, considering my next words. "I didn't want to say that, but it's exactly how I feel about it."

He reached out, his hand closing around my wrist, his touch sending a shiver through me. Who would've ever thought he could be gentle? He was a beast of a man, muscles on top of muscles, and so big that his body challenged reality itself.

He chuckled and I knew he was going to say something that was going to resonate with me. "It scares me too," he admitted. "But it's what we have between us and we can't change it."

I looked up, meeting his gaze, and saw a mixture of emotions swirling in the depths of his eyes: fear, uncertainty, and something else I couldn't quite name.

Who could have ever thought he could look exposed? If somebody had told me before he was going to be behaving this way with me, I wouldn't have believed him.

"What do we do?" I asked, my voice shaking.

It was a very good question. I didn't know what we were going to do. I was hoping he was going to guide me and illuminate me.

He squeezed my wrist, his thumb brushing against my skin and I noticed, again, how calloused his hand was. "We accept it," he said, his voice firm. "If there's something I learned after spending so much time with you, it's that I want to spend more time with you. Nothing wrong with that. And I know you feel the same way. Why keep lying about it? Why keep pretending it's not happening?"

I wanted to argue, to deny the inevitability of our connection. But deep down, I knew he was right.

It was crazy how we were going from hating each other to doing something that meant we were going to spend the rest of our lives together. It was a lot to take in. It made my head feel dizzy.

And I knew this was right. Our dreams were more than just fantasies; they were a reflection of the soul-deep connection that existed between us.

The moment hung between us, thick with anticipation. I felt Mateo's gaze on me, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity. My heart hammered in my chest, my breath coming in short, rapid gasps. I knew what was about to happen, and yet, I was utterly unprepared for it.

He closed the distance between us, his steps slow and deliberate. I felt his presence, his warmth, as he stood mere inches away. I could sense his hesitation, his own internal struggle as he grappled with the enormity of what this moment meant.

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