Page 41 of Torched

“Don’t cry.”

“This is stressing me out, Liam.”

“I understand.”

I shoot him a grateful look, then get up to gather my things, Liam never taking his eyes off me.

“Are you sure?” he questions once more with relentless puppy eyes that fill me with irritation.

One final time, I conjure a smile before I round the table and press a kiss to his lips. It’s gentle enough to make him believe everything is all right, but long enough to fire up that manly testosterone that’s always in the mood for pussy.

“This wore me out. I’m just going to run a bath and go to bed, okay? I’ll call you in the morning,” I say, before I walk out of the restaurant.

The truth is, Kane Carrillo doesn’t wear me out. If anything, he ignites a fire inside of me that no man ever has been able to do. In the worst way possible. He makes me want to kill, to torture. The entire time I had to endure his smug grin, combined with the cold coming from his light blue eyes, I wanted to slice his neck and watch him bleed to death.

I’m not scared of Kane Carrillo. The only fear I hold is that he manages to convince Liam that whatever the fuck we have isn’t real, demolishing all the time I’ve invested in this shit. I can’t have that and I need to find a solution for this,rápido.

With a scowl set on my cheeks, I stomp down the street, thinking of a way to fix this. The most ideal solution would be to win Kane over somehow, but the permanent look of disdain on his face when he entered the restaurant tonight tells me that will be not even worth a try. Maybe we can create something I can help him with. Maybe a fake threat I can bring to his attention and that way gain his trust.

I need to call Junior and see if he can think of anything. Although I doubt the thickhead will have any better ideas than me. He might think he’s the brain of our duo, but unless men stop thinking with their dicks, that’ll never be the case.

I pull out my phone from my golden clutch and dial Junior. Each ring adds to my aggravation when he doesn’t pick up.

“Joder,” I mutter, shoving it back where I found it.

“Is he hard to reach?” A man finds his way directly in my path, and I freeze on the spot, my eyes narrowing as I run them down his body. He’s broad. Tattoos cover both his arms, not a blank space left on his mocha-shaded skin. A thick beard covers his entire jaw, but I imagine it to be sharp when I think of what he would look like without the hair on his face. It’s a deep brown, darker than the light brown that sits on top of his head, but not as dark as his eyebrows that are raised in question.

“Excuse me?” I try to decipher if he’s a friend or foe, hoping his attire will give me more clues, but other than his combat boots, nothing about his black shirt and dark jeans screams recognition.

“Your cousin.” He points to my phone, now hidden in my clutch. “Junior, right? He didn’t pick up his phone?” There is something hypnotizing about his green eyes that makes the air change around me. Electrifying, and clarifying, while at the same time making it hard for me to breathe. His gaze shamelessly trails up and down my entire stance, goosebumps appearing as if he’s touching me. When he lets his eyes drop, he locks his gaze with mine once more.

“Do I know you?”

“No,” he clarifies, taking a step closer. “But I knowyou.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” Another step. “Cristina Reyes.” Step. “Niece of Frank Reyes.” Step. “Cousin of Junior and Callie Reyes.” And then he’s nothing more than a few inches away from me, evading my space like he belongs there. Normally, I wouldn’t tolerate anyone in my personal space without my permission, but for some reason, my feet stay rooted, and I can’t will them to take action.

“You know, your cousin has a big price on his head.” The man smirks, and boy, I wish he hadn’t done that. A swarm of something flies through my stomach, my heart drumming with a force that makes me believe it wants to jump out and into his arms. But the sizzling feeling in my bones has me almost high as a kite, just sensing his vibrant energy so close to mine.

Sucking in a deep breath, I square my shoulders, lifting my chin to appear unaffected by this man’s consuming energy.

“Is that so?”

He hums.

“Is it a big one? Can I buy myself a yacht if I turn him in?” I joke, feeling bold.

“Probably not. But enough to rent one for a few weeks.”

“That doesn’t cut it for me.”

He takes another step closer, close enough for me to feel his breath on my lips and, unintentionally, my gaze drops to his. “No?”

“A girl like me has big needs.”

“Big needs, huh? Anyone able to fill those big needs?” There is a playful glint in his eyes that could be mistaken for ill intentions, and I’m not sure which one it is, but I stay in place, too mesmerized by his tongue licking his lower lip as he waits for my response.

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