Page 14 of Devil's Vow (Diablos Cartel)

“A kiss?!”

“That’s what I want from you. Or will your boyfriend protest too much?”

“Diego isn’t my boyfriend,” I say, not that I believe a man like him would care if I’m in a relationship.

“Then a kiss is what I require in exchange for my assistance.”

“But you’re—”

“The help?” he interrupts, chuckling.

“That’s not what I was going to say.” I roll my eyes at him, annoyed that he’d presume I’m a snob. Though I’m not so sure he’s wrong. All my life, I’ve been bred to marry someone of my own social standing. That’s why I’ve done what I’ve done with Diego.

But Santos… Could I kiss him? Do I want to?

I consider him for a moment, my gaze roving over his handsome features, his dark brown eyes, square jaw, and full mouth. He grins when he notices me taking him in, displaying straight white teeth.

My stomach tightens as I imagine my mouth pressed against his, our tongues meeting. Something tells me it would be no ordinary kiss. It wouldn’t be tame and sweet. A man like him wouldn’t be capable of it. A kiss from him would be wild, dominating, and all-consuming. It would destroy my very concept of what a kiss should be.

So the question isn’t, do I want to kiss him? It’s, could I survive it?

I have no choice.

“All right,” I say. “I’ll kiss you. After you help me.”

“Deal.” Before I can react, he swoops me off the ground and, as if I weigh absolutely nothing, places me on his horse. Then, after taking Luna’s reins, he hops on behind me.

“What are you doing?” I cry out, more appalled by my reaction to the heat of him at my back than by his audacity to get on the horse with me.

“Luna’s too agitated to be ridden. And with that ankle, you can’t command Renzo.”

Unable to argue his point, I allow him to flank me with his arms when he reaches for Renzo’s reins.

We move at a slow pace toward the stables, the horse swaying in such a way that I begin to feel lulled. Against my better judgement, I drop my head onto Santos’s shoulder. He adjusts his hold on the reins, taking both leather thongs in one hand, then slides his free one around my waist, securing me tighter to him.

Though I should, I don’t say anything about the liberty he’s taking with me. I should tell him to remove his large palm from my stomach, to stop the gentle stroke of his thumb over my ribcage, daringly close to my breast.

But I don’t.

Instead, I sink into him more, letting this strange thing he stirs inside me grow with each passing second. It’s a sweet pulse that starts in my belly, something warm and liquid, and it drips to pool between my legs.

By the time we arrive at the stables, everything is silent. The band has stopped, as has the sounds of merriment.

Santos dismounts and lifts me off Renzo, setting me down easily on a wooden chair. After he settles the horses in their respective stalls, he goes up to the loft and returns with a bandage and an ice pack.

He sits in front of me, placing my foot on his leg. I study him as he works on bracing my ankle. There’s no denying he’s handsome, with his dark hair, dark eyes, and tanned skin. Yet that still doesn’t explain my desire to… I’m not even sure what it is I want from him, and more than anything, that infuriates me.

“How old are you?” I ask him.

“Twenty-two.”

“What do you do for my father?”

Though he doesn’t reply, the slight narrowing of his eyes tells me he heard me.

“Santos, what do you do at Villanueva?”

“You should ask your father that,” he replies vaguely. “All done.” He stands, gingerly lifting me with him. Then, moving as stealthily as he can with me in his arms, he takes me to the house.

---