Page 20 of Hook, Line, Infinity, Part 3

“Abuela…” she utters between chews and stops to swallow before speaking again. “…hates him.” I don’t even have to speak; she anticipates my response and continues. “Just because his arms are covered in tattoos and he has a pierced tongue, she’s got it into her head that he’s a thug.”

“Of course she has, but can you honestly blame her? Especially with our track record. What is it with this family and our attraction to the worst type of men?” I ask bitterly while soothingly rubbing my stomach when the baby squirms. Looking back at my mother’s boyfriends and my aunts past relationships, it’s evident that the women in our family have an unhealthy attraction to toxic men.

I tried so damn hard to break that pattern, only going for what I assumed were ‘nice guys’, but it seems it’s just the means of our twisted fate, because I wound up with Hunter, who pretended to be a nice guy and cheated on me with anything that moved. And then Talon, the don of all bad boys. The guileful one who comes across as sensible and decent on the outside, but deep down is scheming ways to rip the soul right out of you.

At least that’s what I’m trying to convince myself of to speed up the process of getting over him, which is proving to be much more difficult than I had ever imagined. You never really heal from what hurt you. As hard as I’ve tried there’s no avoiding or swerving the pain I’m still feeling. I need to allow myself to feel so I can let the healing begin.

“Perhaps we go for guys that are bad for us because we have self-esteem issues, and we need them to make us feel better for what we’re lacking within ourselves.” Well, she’s not wrong there.

Looking at my aunt, she’s now in her mid-forties and still hasn’t found someone she trusts enough to settle down with and start a family of her own. Not that I blame her of course, she’s had her heart trampled on more times than I can count.

Still, I can’t help but wonder if I’m heading down the same path. Am I staring into what might inevitably be my future?

* * *

A weeklater I’m standing in the empty classroom glowering at the blank nine-inch canvas before me, paint brush in one hand and a palette in the other despairingly waiting for inspiration to strike when deep down, I know it’s not coming.

My creative vision is blocked, has been for months now, but this is the first time I’ve managed to coerce myself to pick up a paintbrush and paint something, anything.

Come on Rein, don’t overthink, just paint something.

The brush trembles between my fingers when my anxiety starts to kick in. Memories of Talon and I painting together to recreate the one that got destroyed back in Chicago race through my mind.

“Make love to me, consume me, tell me I’m your only one.”

Before I know it, my mind is completely engrossed with the memory of us. I can still taste him. I can recall the way his lips feel deliberately moving against my own and the way his tongue lightly caresses mine in that manner he knows makes me go dizzy with rampant lust.

I press my thighs together when my clit pulses with urgent need and my panties go moist in a matter of seconds.

Shit.

A notable tingle creeps up my spine causing goosebumps to breakout all over my body. I stiffen when I feel a presence behind me, the spicy yet citrusy masculine scent that surrounds me momentarily makes my mind go hazy.

My body recognises the scent before my brain can react. I don’t even have to look back to know who it is. There’s only one person on this earth that my body responds to in this manner.

“Talon.” I whisper and gasp faintly when he slowly skims his fingertips from my bare upper arms and down toward to my forearms, leaving a lick of flaming desire in its wake. As my body heats, my fingers tremble and slacken and I almost drop the paint brush and palette I’m holding. Talon’s long fingers close around mine holding the brush.

“You can’t paint because you can’t feel, Snowflake. A work of art that isn’t tied to emotions isn’t art.” His deep voice resonates right through me, “Set your mind free. Let yourself feel, remember all the reasons you love painting, and the rest will come.” He whispers, removing the paint brush from my hold and intertwining his fingers with mine.

I shake my head, “I can’t.”

“You can,” Talon assures and skims my fingers through the paint. “Because this is where you belong, Rein. Behind a canvas, creating the next masterpiece not stuck in some classroom watching other people accomplishing their dreams.”

“Who says teaching wasn’t my dream?”

Talon smiles and slowly guides my fingers toward the blank canvas in front of me. “I spent three years observing you. You have this entrancing glow about you when you’re completely drawn into that creative zone. You forget everything and when you’re in that trance, nothing but your concept and that painting matters.” My throat dries up like the Sahara Desert when I feel the warmth of his breath against the shell of my ear. “Why do you think I lingered after every class. While you were engrossed in your painting, I was always beguiled in admiring you.”

I turn my head slightly to the left and slowly lift my gaze to peer up at him. “You were?”

Talon’s eyes, like two orbs of hot blue fire stare deep into mine, fleetingly rendering me defenceless. “I could sit and watch you paint tirelessly.” He affirms melodiously and when I deliberately wet my lips his eyes lower to my mouth. “With your hair piled up on top of your head in a messy bun held up with a pencil,” he drawls gruffly. “Wearing nothing but one of my shirts which is two sizes too big and hangs off one shoulder.”

My eyes slide shut when he grips my hip and draws me back flush against his robust chest, “That’s very… vivid.” My words almost come out like a breathy moan.

“You’re my favourite fantasy.” There’s no holding back the moan that escapes me when he groans those words into my ear and gently nips at the flesh behind my lobe. What little restraint I have in me slips away the instant his lips make contact with my heated flesh. My head drops back against his chest, my legs turn to jelly when he trails his lips down the side of my neck to the dip in my collarbone.

“God, Talon…”

“Fuck Snowflake, how I’ve longed to hear you say my name.” His slender fingers move up my side and curl around my throat before he’s tilting my head up so our lips are aligned and less than a breath apart. “How I’ve longed for you,” he moans and skims his lips over mine teasingly. “And the intoxicating taste of you.” My lips shamelessly part for him and his tongue sensually glides over mine.

“Rein!”

My heart almost leaps out of my throat when I hear my name being yelled. I peel my eyes open and see my aunt standing over me, her chestnut-coloured eyes full of mirth and her dark brown hair falling around her face like a curtain. “Ay dios mami, what were you dreaming about, hm?” Oh bollocks, it was a fucking dream.

If the erotic dreams have started up again, it means I’m royally screwed and not in the fun way I was just fantasising about.

I need to pull it together… and fast.

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