Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Didn’t matter. The GPS chip worked globally.
When the driver climbed out, the overhead lights remained off. Probably disconnected.
“Stay here.” Jefe joined the driver outside, leaving her alone with the man who disturbed her the most.
“Do you talk?” She turned, intending to give him an impatient glare, then slammed her eyes shut.
You’re scared and weak, remember?
She curled her shoulders forward, balled her hand on his lap, and stuttered, “What are…you going to do…to me?”
“Good question.”
That voice… The blood drained from her face. No, no, no.
“What did you say?” She met hazel eyes and knew she was seeing things. It’s too dark.
“What have you gotten yourself into, mi vida?”
The vibration of his voice was a strong hand massaging between her legs, so familiar and arousing she couldn’t breathe.
She gripped the arm attached to hers and lifted it, using both hands to yank back the sleeve and expose the underside of his wrist.
Swirls of ink blackened his skin, but her focus narrowed on the pockmarked scar of a dog bite. No, this man was probably riddled with knife wounds. Did she even have the right arm?
“How did you get this scar?” She searched his gaze, and it told her nothing. And everything.
Dropping his hand, she went for the ski mask. As she yanked it up his neck, he didn’t stop her. Instead, he gripped her hips and pulled her onto his lap to straddle him.
Her heart galloped frantically in her one-handed effort to bare his face. Shoving and tugging the material higher, she uncovered a chiseled jaw, a dusky shadow of stubble, a wide mouth with full lips…
Her throat closed up, and she jerked her hand away. “You’re not him.”
“I’m not?” His fingers dug into her waist.
With the mask gathered across his nose, she could almost convince herself he didn’t look like an older, more distinguished version of Matias.
“He wouldn’t be here.” A sharp pain twisted in her chest. “He would never support sexual slavery.”
A sinister grin curved his lips. Not a Matias smile. Except there, hiding in the corners…
She lifted her hand to trace the dimples. The same dimples she’d stared at every day for sixteen years. The same dimples that had flashed whenever he put a spider in her hair or peed on her mother’s roses and always when he came in the stroke of her hand. They were the same dimples that had bored into her memories for the past twelve years.
Her heart slammed against her ribs as she yanked off the mask.
Thick strands of black hair fell across a smooth tawny forehead. Dark brows pulled into a V over eyes that would glow citrine in the sunlight. If she pressed her mouth against those firm lips, which memory would he taste like? The first bite of a juicy orange? The full-bodied smoke of a bonfire? A refreshing dip in the spring-fed stream?
He was so sculptured and masculine, all grown up, filled out, and sexier than she could’ve ever imagined.
And he’d come to save her. Whether she needed that or not, he’d actually come for her. Somehow…someway, he’d discovered she would be here and wanted to help her.
She cupped his face, the scratch of whiskers so strange against her palm. “It’s really you, mi vida.”
My life.
She raised her other hand to frame his face, but her arm caught. Shackled. Her vision clouded. No. Oh God, no, he wasn’t her life or her goddamn savior. He enslaved women. Quivering anger spiked through her body. He was…
My captor.
THE FALTER OF CAMILA’S BREATHS, the heave of her full tits, everything about her intoxicated Matias’ senses. She was here, right fucking here, filling his hands with her tight, trembling flesh.
His reaction to her had been instantaneous, darting a possessive jolt down his spine and thickening his cock. But evidently, she needed more time to adjust. After all, he wasn’t here to save her, not in the way she was probably guessing.
Her initial shock at hearing his voice had softened into wonderment, loosening her shoulders and parting her heart-shaped lips. In that moment, she’d seemed lost, completely knocked off her stubborn axle.
Now she glared at him with liquid hatred in her eyes.
Christ, she looked so goddamn fuckable when she was riled. On his lap. Chained to him.
He tightened his fingers around her hips to stop himself from violating every inch of her body. The same discipline he’d exercised the last time he had her alone. Twelve fucking years ago. Not that he had anything in common with that dumbass eighteen-year-old boy.
He’d shed his innocence in exchange for power, every last ounce of chivalry traded for brutal dominance. If he hadn’t, he would’ve been gutted and eaten alive.
And the woman who had smuggled her way into his ruthless world, pretending she was there against her will? She now had the audacity to look deceived.
“Did you expect me to be here?” She shoved at him, stealing peeks at the men outside as her legs kicked to escape the intimacy of their position. “This is…it’s just too coincidental. How did you know?”