Page 65 of Miguel

“I shouldn’t have taken you and Desiree to the club house. I know my way of life can be a lot for someone who isn’t used to it–”

“That’s not–”

“Please let me finish.”

I clamped my mouth closed.

“We Diablos live our lives fast. There’s no room for second guessing, and no room for taking things slowly. I shouldn’t have taken either of you there, but I did it to keep you safe. I would never, ever, willingly put you in danger. I know my brothers are a lot, seeing the women there is a lot, but my brothers would never hurt you. That’s the thing about being a Diablo. It means we protect our own. It doesn’t matter how much they tease or joke, they will see you and Desiree as sisters now and give their lives for you if they have to. Do you understand?”

“I… understand.”

He took a step forward, and the vicious pounding of my heart only went on. I had to clasp my hands against the bouquet, out of fear that he’d see my fingers shaking.

“I know you said you didn’t want anything to do with me, and I know I should respect your wishes, but at least give me a chance to prove something to you, nena.”

His proximity made me feel lightheaded, and his every word curled around me, wrapped around me, and threatened to be my undoing.

“Prove what to me?” I managed.

“Let me prove that I’m in this for the long run.” His hand lifted, fingers stroking down an errant curl. “Let me prove that I don’t just want you for your body. Give me a chance to show you that I want you for everything else, too. For your mind, your smile, your laughter. I want you. For the rest of our days, I fucking want you, if you’d only give me a chance.”

I didn’t feel the first tear fall until his thumb swiped it from my cheek. Every word was poetry and every syllable intoned with honesty.

I took in a shuddering breath and stepped away from him. “One chance,” I said, hoping I wouldn’t live to regret this. Did it say something about me, about how fast I folded to him? A few pretty words and I was putty in his hands. Words that anyone else would have said, that would have made me roll my eyes in disbelief. Yet I believed him.

I knew he spoke true.

I didn’t know how. A gut feeling, perhaps. In that instant, I could see it. A future that I always wanted. The house, the kids, and beyond that the goals I set for myself at work as well with Miguel supporting me every step of the way. A future that I itched to reach out and grab and keep close to my chest.

A future I wouldn’t know could be, if I didn’t at least have the guts to try.

“One chance,” I repeated. “And one date to convince me.”

He smiled, almost as if this was the outcome he’d expected all along.

“Okay. I’ll see you at the end of the school day, nena. Goodbye.”

“Bye.”

I watched as he walked away and I hoped, I prayed, that I wouldn’t live to regret falling for my student’s father.

Chapter Twenty-four

Lorena

Iwrungatthematerial of my blouse, wrinkling the ends between my fingers. Butterflies exploded in my stomach, and my breathing became an uneven struggle. My eyes scanned past the line of cars parked in front of the school, looking for a dark-tinted SUV.

I was nervous.

I’d had Miguel’s cock in my mouth, I’d tasted the salted jets of his release in my throat, and yet I was nervous about a first date. It was ridiculous. But I couldn’t seem to shake the feeling from my body, no matter how hard I twisted my shirt around and around and around.

I looked down at Zeke. Though it’d only been a few weeks, he already appeared so much more at ease than the first few days when he’d been here. He no longer stared at cars with longing, with fear.

Maybe it was the fact that he now had hearing aids and didn’t feel so lost as he had in the beginning. That combined with the fact he was slowly but surely learning to sign made communication seem not so daunting. Or maybe, like me, he’d fallen fast for his father. He feltsafewith Miguel. And that made all the difference. Because he had someone who cared. Who tried. Not only in his father, but the entire Diablos compound as well.

Children could tell the difference between a loving home and a neglectful one. They carried the trauma of negligence with them, and sometimes they could come out thriving. I could already tell that Zeke was going to thrive.

Miguel cared about him. The entire clubhouse cared about him. That was something I’d noticed in my short stay with Los Diablos. They all treated Zeke like he was their own. Even the women there for sport and pleasure had been kind to him, even if they hadn’t been to me.

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