The Slayer (Untamed Hearts #2)(3)

“Thank you for being diplomatic.” She gave him another apologetic look. “He didn’t deserve it, but I appreciate it.”

He stared at her for a long moment and then turned around and poured himself another drink. He took the shot and then tilted his head to look out the window. “He’s still out there.”

“Should I call Wyatt?”

“No, I already told you I wasn’t calling Wyatt.” Chuito’s voice was still threatening. “The game is to see if he leaves before the Patrón kicks in and chills me out enough to maim him instead of murder him.”

Alaine poured him another glass and pushed it toward him in silent offering. He drank it, and this time he didn’t wince, which was nothing short of a miracle. She filled up the glass and then took another big gulp, coughing a second time as she pushed up next to Chuito and looked out the window.

“Why did he say what he did?” Chuito asked her, the two of them still standing tightly together as they looked out the small window above the kitchen sink. “Did that imply what I think it did?”

“I wouldn’t sleep with him tonight,” Alaine admitted.

Chuito turned around. “Screw waiting for the Patrón.”

“No.” She jumped after him when he walked toward the door. She wrapped her arms around his waist, but he kept going. “He’s not worth it, Chu. I promise. Please.” He wasn’t listening. He just kept walking and taking her with him, like a big, unbending wall with legs. “We’re broken up!” she reminded him. “I’m never seeing him again. He’ll leave and go tell his friends that I’m a horrible lay like Joe did, and I can finally give up on dating forever. I’m terrible at it anyway. He’s the last one. Forever.”

Chuito stopped so fast Alaine lost her footing. She ended up on her ass on the floor, her fingers in the waistband of his jeans. He turned around in her arms so that her face was level with his crotch, and she arched an eyebrow as she looked at it.

Usually she was subtler, but it was right there, and everything about him was so masculine and beautiful. Carved. Hard. Decorated. She touched the S in his Slayer tattoo etched over his stomach muscles that were deep with ridges impossible to ignore.

His breath hitched, but she didn’t care.

“Alaine.”

She lifted her head and blinked at him, the action feeling slower somehow, as if her world had just been placed inside one of those Jell-O molds her mother used to make.

“You’re touching me.” His voice was low and sexy—the way it got sometimes at night when she lay in his bed talking to him.

“I know,” she whispered and looked back to his stomach. She splayed her hand out over it, enjoying the way it felt too much to stop.

“Okay.” Chuito reached down and wrapped both hands around her arms. He pulled her to her feet so that she was looking at the thick line of his throat, and the way the muscles on either side of it bunched as if he were stressed. She ran one finger down the curve of it, and for just a moment she swore he shuddered, before he choked out, “You’re drunk.”

“Maybe,” she agreed, because she knew where he stood on the two of them, but she always wanted to touch. If she had an excuse, why not go for it? She threaded her fingers into his short dark hair. She tugged, just to see how it felt, and Chuito surprised her by letting her pull his head back. He looked so good, so incredibly sexy. The rush sang into her veins, hot and needy as she rasped, “Oh my God.”

“I’m obviously drunk too.” Chuito pushed her away, forcing her fingers out of his hair. “I didn’t eat yet. Just—” He rubbed a hand over his face and stepped back until he hit the door. “You should go.”

She swallowed hard and looked away, because the rejection stung. She felt it heat her cheeks, and she closed her eyes against the sadness that swept her up without warning. “Yeah, okay,” she whispered as she fought tears. “I’m sorry for touching you.”

“It’s not you, mami,” Chuito said softly and then reached out and caressed her hair, brushing it away from her face and tucking it behind her ear. “You know it’s my issue.”

“Bullshit!”

He flinched, because usually she didn’t swear. “Alaine—”

“No,” she said before he could give her one of his crappy excuses. “It is me. You didn’t want me. You told me to go back to the church.”

“I didn’t know you were going to date *s!” Chuito gestured to the window as evidence. “Your taste in men sucks!”

“I give up!” She threw up her hands as the tears spilled out and rolled down her cheeks. “I give up, Chu! No one wants me. I’m broken.”

“You’re not broken.”

“I am broken,” she promised him. “Very, very, very broken. I’m cold.”

“Cold?” Chuito let out a broken laugh. “Are you crazy?”

“No, really, you don’t know. I’m not very good in bed.”

“Don’t tell me about it.” Chuito held up a hand to stop her. “I didn’t know you’d been sleeping with Edward or that dick Joe before him.”

“You thought I was going to buy a car without test-driving it first?” she asked in disbelief. “What century are you living in?”