I tip my head back, groaning as I fist my cock, feeling the familiar pulse as I start to come. I toss the blankets back in a hurry, angling it towards my abs, and watch as the jets of cum spurt onto my belly as I come hard thinking of Gabriela.
It feels fucking great, but it’s also a sobering reminder of the fact that I cameinsideher, bare, twice last night. A stupid thing to do and equally absurd to have believed a stranger when she said she was on the pill. But I’d trusted her—and gotten caught up in my own need—and there’s nothing to be done about it now.
I likely won’t even see her again,I remind myself as I slide out of bed, grabbing my phone to head to the bathroom for a shower. It had been a one-night-stand—nothing unfamiliar about those for me. I might be pining after her a little, whichisunusual, but then again, it was the first good sex I’d had since breaking things off with Saoirse. Not all that odd, then, that I’d feel a little pang at the idea of not getting to experience it again.
I go to collect my clothes off the floor where I’d left them last night, and as I do, I drop my phone. “Fuck, I’m all thumbs this morning,” I mutter to myself, reaching for it—only to freeze with my hand halfway there.
On the beige carpet, next to my discarded clothes where I’d fucked Gabriela last night, there’s what looks like a bloodstain. Dark and dried, gumming up the fibers, and I suppose itcouldbe something else, but a man in my line of work knows the sight of blood—even a small amount of it.
I snatch my phone up, straightening and rubbing a hand over my mouth as every suspicion I’d had last night comes rushing back all at once. Gabriela’s naivete with the men who had tried to accost her, her sweet innocence, the way she’d hesitated when she saw my cock for the first time. How tight she was, tighter than any other woman I’ve been with, almost to the point of not being able to get inside her at first. The strangled cry she made when I thrust inside, almost as if she were in pain, the eager clumsiness of her movements—
“Fuck.” The word comes out loud and sharp in the silence of my room, and I can feel my jaw clenching as I piece it together. I’d dismissed every one of those signs as they’d come up, explaining them away in my head because I hadn’t wanted to deal with the choice in front of me if she’d been a virgin, to be her first or send her away. I hadn’t wanted to deal with the emotional repercussions of being someone’s first. So I’d talked myself out of every gut feeling I’d had.
And as a result, I’m almost positive I took Gabriela’s virginity last night, and she didn’t tell me.Why wouldn’t she tell me?Was she afraid I wouldn’t want her? That wouldn’t have been true, necessarily, but it would have been a good thing to know. Something to consider, so I didn’t treat her like—
Like a woman used to getting fucked.
The almost-certain knowledge makes me feel like shit and angers me a little at the same time, because I feel like I should have been given a choice in the matter. I truly don’t think I would have turned Gabriela down, even if I’d known. I’d wanted her too badly, and she’d clearly wanted me. But I hadn’t even been able to make that decision.
It doesn’t matter,I tell myself as I get into the hot shower, tilting my head back into the spray of water and trying not to think of Gabriela here last night, her smooth wet body under my hands, the way we’d fallen into bed soaking wet.You’re never going to see her again.That makes it feel worse, too, somehow, like the first good night I’ve had with a woman in god knows how long has been marred by all of this.
I’d told her I might haunt theSangrefor a while, in case she decided to come back, and now I feel the urge to do that even more strongly—for a number of reasons. Partially because I’m irritated that she wasn’t honest and want to know why, partly because I want to make sure that she’s okay—that I wasn’t too rough, that I didn’t hurt her—and partially because I want her again. I want to repeat last night, but with honesty between us instead of the secrets.
Fuck.I feel some of the tension returning as I dry off, my stomach knotting at the idea that she’d deceived me.Did she lie about anything else?There’s no point in letting my imagination run away with me, though—she might just have not wanted the complications of letting her first man know that he was the first. She might have just been trying to get it over with, and whilethatidea stings a little, it at least gives some shape to the lie. But there’s really no way to know for sure without asking her.
My phone goes off just as I’m finishing getting dressed, a video call from Liam. I prop it up on the nightstand, sitting on the side of the bed as I tap the screen.
“How’s Mexico?” Liam asks, looking more tired than usual. He looks as if he’s aged a bit since the baby came, bags under his eyes that weren’t there before, a sleepy paleness to his skin. Normally I’d give him shit for it, but I’m tired myself, and my thoughts are too wrapped up with other things.
“Good enough. Hot and dry. The hotel I found is decent.” I don’t elaborate further, and as I wait for Liam’s response, Connor comes and sits down next to him. In the background, I catch a glimpse of Saoirse walking past, and my chest tightens.
She looks even more pregnant than the last time I saw her, her dark red hair swept up in a bun atop her head, wearing what looks like yoga clothes. Her pale skin looks radiant like someone lit a candle inside of her, and everything about her, as always, is stunningly gorgeous, even seven months pregnant.
But unlike the last time I saw her, it doesn’t hurt as much. I feel that pang of loss, seeing her walking through Connor’s house, seeing her carrying his child and glowing with it, but it doesn’t feel like I’m being carved from the inside out while still breathing. Something about my night with Gabriela, even if certain parts of it are in question, salved that pain.
She might not have been truthful about everything, but the ferocity with which she wanted me wasn’t a lie. After the sidelining and rejection of my relationship with Saoirse, that more than anything else, helped to begin to heal the wound.
“What about Ricardo?” Connor asks, returning my attention to the meeting, and I look back at him and Liam.
“He wants men in addition to the trade we outlined,” I tell him and go on to explain what Ricardo Santiago had outlined to me regarding his difficulties with the Gonzalez cartel and the tensions rising among various families.
“Well, I think we can relate to tension between mob families,” Liam says wryly. “But I’m hesitant to send men over without some assurances. We’re not prepared, right now, to take sides in a cartel war. If Ricardo thinks that’s the direction it’s going, rather than posturing to prevent that, then we might want to pull back from the deal.”
“But feel it out a little more,” Connor adds. “See how worried he really is, how many men he wants, what kind of return on investment he sees for the trade. We’ll touch base after the next meeting.”
“He’s holding a gala in two weeks,” I tell them, glancing at Liam. “Some kind of big announcement in addition to potentially solidifying the alliance. I plan to stay until then, see how this all pans out.”
“That sounds like a good plan,” Liam agrees. “We’ll check in regularly. Let us know how the next meeting goes.”
“Will do.” I end the call, flopping back onto the bed as the screen goes dark.
Two more weeks in Mexico. Two weeks to maybe see Gabriela again—or maybe not.
I just have to hope that lightning might strike twice.
14
ISABELLA