She cut her eyes away and bit her lip, but she slid onto the black leather seat without protest.
I studied the pillowy pout of her lush mouth, tempted to claim a kiss and remind her of our combustible chemistry. Then, a bright red line appeared as her dry lips split beneath her teeth.
Automatically, I curled two fingers beneath her chin and lifted her face to mine. “Stop that. You’re too dehydrated to be biting your lips.”
She stopped immediately, her mouth softening as she stared up at me. For the first time in days, the rich chocolate tone of her eyes was more prevalent than her dark pupils, which were no longer dilated with fear. Without thinking, I gently rubbed my thumb across her lips, soothing the sting.
“I really am sorry,” she murmured, her mouth brushing against the rough callous on my fingertip. The sensation was so exquisite that it took me a moment to catch on to what she was saying. “I was so worried about you. I told myself you would be okay. You’re so strong and…” A little shiver raced over her skin, and she swallowed.
Hunger knifed through my gut, but I wasn’t craving food. I liked this reaction to my touch. I liked when she said I was strong. I liked when she told me she was worried about me.
I wanted all of it. I wanted all of her.
“I couldn’t bear it if you died because of me,” she whispered. “I thought I was saving Carmen. I wouldn’t have helped Daniel if I’d known he was taking her to men who would hurt her. I didn’t know she wanted to be with Stefano.” Her lip quivered beneath my thumb, and her eyes began to shine. “When I realized what I’d done, I really did try to stop Daniel. That’s when he attacked me. I knew Stefano would kill me once he found out that I’d helped with the coup. But I couldn’t just run away without telling you their real plan. I couldn’t leave Carmen to that fate.” Her voice dropped lower, little more than a pained exhale. “I couldn’t let you die in that ambush. I couldn’t do it.”
Something warm pulsed in the center of my chest, and my free hand lifted to brush a stray lock of silky black hair away from her cheek. “I forgive you.”
I wouldn’t be able to fully erase my dark, twisted feelings about her betrayal for a while yet. But even if I couldn’t make myself forget, I could forgive her. How could I not, when she looked so distraught over the prospect of my death? When she’d risked her own life to tell me the truth about the coup instead of running away?
“You were scared, and you thought you were helping Carmen. You did it for good reasons, even if it was insanely reckless.”
The fine lines around her eyes drew deeper with anguish. “But I did it for me, too.” She uttered it like a confession, like she was admitting the gravest sin. “I wanted my freedom. I didn’t care about hurting the cartel—the cartel hurts plenty of people, including Carmen. Including me. But I did care about risking your life. I worried, but I did it anyway. And it was all for nothing. I just made everything worse.”
“Actually, everything turned out for the best.” I offered her the complete truth. “Carmen is safely back with Stefano, and we were able to eliminate Miguel Armendariz as well as the traitors in our own organization. Thanks to you, the cartel is stronger than ever.”
Her lips pinched to a frown. She obviously didn’t care for that description of the outcome.
I shrugged it off. Marisol was staying with me now. She’d have to get used to the cartel.
She would learn that the cartel was stability; it provided me with power and wealth that would protect us both. Surely, she wasn’t so naïve to think the world was divided into good people and evil criminals. She’d been living on Carmen Ronaldo’s estate prior to being taken as my hostage. There was no way she was ignorant of the world’s harsher realities.
But her frown broke the intimate moment, and I managed to pull myself away from the allure of her softness and concern. She really did need to eat and drink, and she needed a lot more natural sleep to recover from the trauma of Daniel’s attack.
The memory of a different cruel man’s hands on her made my fists tighten, and I moved stiffly as I crossed the kitchen to get food for her. The fucker who’d attacked her in Juárez might’ve survived. There was a chance he’d choked on his own blood, but I’d been too concerned with taking Marisol away from that place to stop and finish the job.
I wrenched the fridge door open with a bit too much force.