Nowhere near enough.
I moved to kiss him again, but he beat me to it, gripping my chin and claiming my mouth with a kiss every bit as gentle, but a thousand times less cautious.
Motherfucker, itslayedme. Mateo smelt of lemon and tasted of mint. His scruff was heaven against my jaw, and for a long, blissful moment, it was everything I’d ever wanted.
Then it was everything I’d feared. The room was lit by lamps, but in my head, shadows swamped us and the walls closed in on me. Mateo’s lemon-mint scent became something else. Something sour and old. His velvet beard thinned to an itchy five o’clock shadow, and his hands, his healing fucking hands, were acid on my skin.
No.
I fought it, but my mind was sluggish, my instincts dulled by whatever the fuck was coursing through my veins.
My body reacted, more visceral than the desire that had slammed us together.
More violent.
I ripped my mouth from Mateo, tore free of his embrace, andshovedhim away, knocking us both off balance.
I staggered.
He caught me, but I pushed him again, lashing out until he let me go.
I slid down the window, the pain in my abdomen dulled by the roar of panic in my ears. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t hear, my pulse was so loud. “Fuck.Fuck. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”
Mateo crouched, cheekbone marked red from my flailing fist. His hands shook as he extended them, then changed his mind and snatched them back, eyes wild, olive skin ashen. “What did I do? Did I hurt you?”
I choked on a bitter laugh, nausea tearing up my throat. “It wasn’t you—”Old hands pulled the sheet back. A heavy weight settled over me, pinning me to the hard single mattress—I screwed my eyes shut, forcing the memory down. Swallowing the bile in my mouth. “You don’t understand.”
“Help me then.”
“No.”
“Em—”
“No.”
Mateo growled and punched the window above my head. The glass cracked and I welcomed the savagery of it. Hated his muttered apology. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Em.”
I opened my eyes and found turmoil in his that matched the carnage inside me. “No.No.You don’tunderstand.”
Mateo lowered himself to sit, still vibrating with the need to fix me, the way he always did. “Then tell me. Explain it like I’m the simplest fucking idiot you’ve ever met.”
I can’t.I’d never told anyone. Not the judge, the jury, or the legal aid barrister who’d written me off before she’d ever met me. But as I drowned in Mateo’s affection, in a love I’d done nothing to deserve, the words came tumbling out.
Bad words.
Dark words.
Darker than sin.
Darker, even, than Mateo’s battered soul.
I thought those words would shatter me. Shatterus. But Mateo absorbed them all and moved as close as he could without touching me. “Tell me his name and I’ll kill him.”
I shook my head, slow and dazed. “You can’t.”
“Why not, cielito?”
“Because I already did.”
