Page 173 of The Slayer
“You deserve to be loved,” Alaine promised as she reached out to Chuito. “Very much so.” She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face against his chest, just feeling him alive and healthy in her arms. “It feels so good to finally be able to love you. To hold you.”
Holding him brought it back to the surface that she had almost lost him. That they had almost lost each other, and that maybe they wouldn’t have met up on the other side. Everything was so uncertain, making her feel like they were both standing in quicksand, and she clung to him, fearing that somehow she would be separated from him once more.
She just wanted to stand there and hold him forever, even if doing it was making her weepy again, and she hastily wiped at her face. “I wish I could stop crying.”
“It was a bad day.” He pulled back and wiped at her cheeks for her. “You should probably be freaking out a lot more than you are.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh yeah,” he assured her as he pulled her to the bed. “I’m shaken up too. That was—” He shook his head and then crawled onto the bed with her. The two of them lay there side by side as the music and the laughter drifted into the room. “I just need to forget for a little bit, don’t you?”
She nodded, because she was still crying. Chuito brushed the tears off her cheeks before he reached behind him and grabbed the box. Alaine stayed curled into him, forcing Chuito to maneuver around her as he dug in the box. Then he fell onto his back, pulling her with him.
She eyed a thinly rolled cigarette in his hand, surprised that it was dark brown rather than white. “It looks like a cigar. That’s not how they look on television.”
“You believe everything you see on television?” he asked with an arch of his eyebrow.
“I don’t want any,” she argued as he lit it and took a long puff and then coughed as if he wasn’t used to it. “Is this going to lead to cocaine?”
“No.” He rolled his eyes with a laugh and took another puff. “It’s like drinking.”
“I don’t think it’s like drinking.”
“Your hands are still shaking. You’re in shock. I’m probably in shock too. I don’t have any fucking gringa Valium. One blunt isn’t gonna hurt either of us.”
“Promise me you’ll stop drinking,” she bargained. “Promise that this is the only time.”
“I promise,” he said and then amended, “Unless we have a repeat of what happened today.”
“Oh Jesus,” she moaned, and somehow she realized it was an agreement. “I don’t have the vaguest idea how to smoke.”
She had shot someone today and was probably an accessory to several other brutal murders. The marijuana wasn’t exactly the worst of her crimes for the afternoon.
So she gave in.
Chuito rolled onto his side once more, cupping her face with his free hand. The smell of the pot was earthy, and she couldn’t decide whether she liked it or not, but then he rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. “I won’t make you smoke it. We’ll do it a different way.”
He took another long hit, but rather than blowing the smoke out, he touched her lip again, forcing her to part her lips to him. He breathed the smoke into her mouth, and she coughed, blowing the smoke back in his face, which made Chuito laugh at her.
“Let’s try again,” he said and cupped her face once more. “You’re supposed to breathe in, mami.”
She nodded, because seeing him smile, with those deep dimples making his eyes somehow less intense, was worth breathing in for. “Okay, let me try again.”
This time, when he did it, she closed her eyes and breathed in. It occurred to her that this was sort of sensual in an odd, smoky way. With his lips so close to hers, she started to become more interested in him than the pot.
When he blew into her mouth again, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his in a billow of smoke. The kiss was soft, with one indulgent sweep when Chuito pushed his tongue into her open mouth, but then he pulled away and whispered, “You’re doing it wrong.”
“I don’t care,” she said and parted her lips again.
Chuito caressed her face, his gaze molten as he took another long puff. Then he leaned in, letting her completely ruin whatever he was trying to do, sharing another smoky kiss. She opened her mouth wide to him, letting him slip his tongue into her mouth with a low groan.
It didn’t last as long as she wanted, and she found herself clinging to his shirt, still trembling and desperate for reassurance that he was back in her arms and they were safe.
“Do it right this time,” he said with a false scowl.
She nodded and then parted her lips again. The smoke wasn’t as big a problem as she thought, not when it let her thread her fingers into his hair and hold his mouth to hers. This time she was the one who tasted him, swallowing his groan of pleasure, because he was certainly one of those men who didn’t mind her kissing him like it was the only thing that was going to keep her from going crazy.
“Okay, try again. I’ll do it right,” she said when the two of them parted breathlessly. “I promise.”
