Page 79 of Ravaged Hearts

I scrunched my nose. “Not until this afternoon.”

Vaughn continued accompanying me to Javi’s each shift, watching over me from his table at the back like my devoted, lethal bodyguard. At first, he’d used the excuse that there were still rogue cartel cells active in the area, but as time went on with no suspicious activity, I wondered if he just wanted to be near me so he didn’t worry.

I was okay with that. I’d do whatever he needed to feel secure again after we’d both almost lost our lives. Vaughn’s mental health was a work in progress, you could say.

He shifted to face me with one hand propped beneath hishead. The other gripped my hip, and those long tattooed fingers dug into my flesh. “Manipulative witch.”

I made a haughty expression. “I regret nothing.”

“Got everything you wanted, did you?” He narrowed his eyes, then his fingers drifted toward my pussy.

I squirmed as he gently parted my swollen lips. “I thought what we just did was my punishment.”

Vaughn’s mouth curved into a sinister smile. “Did I say I was done?” He dipped two fingers inside, scooped up our combined release, and smeared the sticky wetness across my belly.

I choked out a confused laugh. “Whatare you doing?”

“Marking you. There ought to be enough pheromones in there to keep even the randiest fuckboy away from you at work today.” Vaughn repeated the process, and this time, he traced his fingers between my breasts and over my nipples, blowing across my skin to dry his bizarre artwork. Then he leaned in close and gave me a stern look. “You don’t shower before you go to work, and you don’t cover yourself in perfume. Are we clear?”

“Are you kidding me? I reek of sex.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” He nuzzled my neck and inhaled. “And you don’t just reek of sex; you smell like me and the orgasms I gave you.” The smirk on his face when he climbed out of bed and slipped on a pair of black gym shorts was positively wicked.

“Vaughn”—I sat up on my elbows—“Julio’s gay. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

He arched a brow. “More deception? That makes you an even bigger brat.” He pointed at my languid naked body. “You’re wearing my scent all day.” He picked up his discarded T-shirt from the floor and sniffed it. “And this.” He tossed it at my chest. “Tie it in a knot or whatever, but you’re wearing that, too.”

Unbelievable.

I rolled my eyes. “Fine.” I supposed I had been the instigator of Vaughn’s ultra possessiveness. If anyone called me out on my musky odor, I’d never recover. I rolled on my side to face him. “But you’re mopping the floors at closing time.”

“Don’t I always?” He winked, and my stomach fluttered.

Pussy, belly, heart. There was a whole lot of fluttering going on inside my body whenever this man was around.

And he was right. Whatever chores needed doing, be it at Javi’s or helping with the dogs, he was always first to lend a hand.

After leaving the hospital, we’d returned to Playa de la Palmera so Vaughn could convalesce while Daphne and I cared for him. Not that he’d let us. He’d constantly battled with Dee over what activities he was allowed to do while his punctured lung mended.

The blade Jorge had stabbed through Vaughn’s chest had also nicked an artery in his heart, causing him to almost bleed out before the surgeons had repaired it. I still had nightmares of being in that torture chamber, feeling utterly helpless as the man I loved hung from chains, dying before me.

Initially, Vaughn had lost a little weight while bedridden. But now, his tall tattooed form showed the bulky muscles he’d worked hard to rebuild, and he was as strong as the day we’d met. There was one fortuitous outcome from Vaughn’s injuries. He’d been forced to quit smoking to allow his lung to heal, and he felt all the better for it.

Aside from the ink-free scar tissue at his thigh, shoulder, and chest, you’d never know he’d been at death’s door three months ago. He’d told me he didn’t want to cover his newly imperfect skin with fresh ink. Those scars he’d wear as a symbol of the challenges we’d both overcome to be here. I was so proud of him.

The dogs out back started barking. Vaughn tensed andturned toward the window. I heard it then, too. A car approaching.

“Are we expecting a visitor?” he asked.

“Could be Dee home early. Maybe she forgot something.” She’d left this morning to visit a nearby village to make house calls.

Vaughn’s phone pinged. He grabbed it from the nightstand and checked the screen.

One side of his lips twitched. “It’s Brandon and Sage. They’re a day early.”

I slipped into my white linen shorts and Vaughn’s used tee, tying it in a front knot as he’d suggested, while my man remained shirtless. That was another change he’d embraced during his recovery. Vaughn no longer felt the need to cover his scars with long clothes, and if anyone was rude enough to ask what had happened to him, he straight up told them. No shame. No fear.

Titan and the other house dogs were pawing at the door when we made our way to the porch and a black Escalade came to a stop out front, kicking up a cloud of dust.

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