Vice(41)

Natalia closes her eyes, breathing out slowly. She sounds like she’s about to burst into tears.

“What is it? You don’t want him dead after all?”

“No. It’s not that. It’s just…my entire life, I’ve been surrounded by violent men. I’ve watched anger and hatred eating them alive on a daily basis. I think I’m beginning to lose hope.”

“Hope of what?”

She pauses. The sound of the rain hammers down on the tree house roof, stealing the silence for a second. “Hope that there are any kindhearted, gentle men left in the world,” she says. She speaks so quietly that I have to strain to hear her over the roar of the rain.

I don’t really know what to say to that. I’d love to tell her that I am capable of such a thing, of having a kind heart, but I don’t think that’s true anymore. I haven’t felt like that in a long time. Truthfully, I probably lost any soft edges I may have ever possessed long before Laura even went missing, back when I was in the military, scraping people off the desert floor. It’s easy to blame the turmoil of my soul on Laura’s disappearance, but it’s only partly responsible. I’ve been f*cked up and angry for a very long time.

I do something I really shouldn’t. I reach and I stroke my hand over her wet hair. Her eyes are still closed, but she tenses even before I’ve touched her, as if she’s expecting me to do it. If there was any way for me to be a gentle man again, she would inspire it in me. “I’m sure there’s someone out there that fits the bill,” I tell her quietly. “The world’s a big place. And there are millions of guys who haven’t been jacked up by war, or drugs, or murder. All you have to do is find your way out of this forest, and you can have your pick of any of them.”

She smiles, and it’s a painfully sad smile. “But what if I don’t want my pick of them? What if I’ve already set my sights on someone else? Someone dangerous, who enjoys his vices a little too much?”

Oh, f*ck.

I’ve felt the tension between us. I’ve been hyper sensitive to it, but I’ve been trying to ignore it, because Fernando’s a f*cking psychopath. Natalia isn’t helping matters by insinuating things like this. Still, I’m concerned, but I’m also really f*cking happy at the same time. “We all want things that aren’t good for us, Natalia. Sometimes the wanting is the fun part. It’s just the having part can be too damned dangerous sometimes.”

Finally, she opens her eyes. Beautiful dark cat’s eyes. “Are you saying I’m not worth the risk, Mr. America?”

She doesn’t get it. She thinks I’m worried about my safety, that I won’t chase after her because her father might come for me. I twist a piece of her hair around my finger, intrigued by how long, how soft, how silky it is. “I’m not afraid of Fernando, Natalia. Not for my own sake. But you…I worry about what he would do to you if he discovered something he didn’t like.”

She sits up a little straighter, angling her head to one side. “He’s ruled my life since I was old enough to walk. Shouldn’t I be allowed to make my own decisions by now? Take my own risks.” She smiles. “Have vices of my own?”

I can’t f*cking help myself. I lean closer to her, doing my best to ignore my dick, which is demanding I take charge of this situation right now and f*ck her senseless. “You want me to become your vice?” I whisper.

She watches me for a second, eyes wide open, and for the first time she really looks at me. None of this furtive sidelong glance bullshit. No looking away as soon as I turn and see her. She really looks at me, and she seems fascinated. She reaches up with her hand, just as slowly and carefully as I did when I stroked her hair, and she cups my face in her palm. Her hands are cold, but the contact feels like it’s burning into me. “No point in trying to prevent something that has already happened, right, Mr. America?”

I know with every bone in my body that I should back the f*ck away right now—this can only end in pain and misery, after all—but the bone in my pants has other ideas. I can’t hold back anymore. Not with her looking at me like I’m some kind of goddamn miracle. And not with my blood charging around my body, filled with adrenalin, making me feel high and drunk all at the same time. I need her. I need to act now, before common sense prevails.

Rushing forward, I take hold of her neck in one hand and pull her to me, bringing my lips down on hers. Her mouth is f*cking amazing, her lips so f*cking unbelievably soft. I’ve kissed plenty of girls before, but none of those kisses have lit up the inside of my head like it’s filled with motherf*cking C4 explosives. She feels so f*cking small and vulnerable beneath my hands. I kiss her harder, guiding her lips open, and then I’m sliding my tongue into her mouth, past her teeth. She tastes so goddamn sweet, like cherries, and strawberry, and mint all mixed together. She sighs as I massage her tongue with my own, licking, laving and tasting her, exploring her mouth, and the sound of her moaning softly nearly catapults me into outer f*cking space.

She’s shaking, her body trembling violently, and I can’t tell if it’s because she’s soaking wet and the damp has penetrated down deep into her bones, or if it’s because the kiss is overtaking her and she can’t f*cking breathe.

I should pull away and give her a second, but I don’t. I wrap my arms around her and I pull her to me, crushing her body against mine. She laces her arms around my neck, and then there’s no going back. I lift her into my lap, my hands on her waist, guiding her, and then she’s straddling me.