Page 32 of Brutal Kiss

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“Doesn’t look like it. The usual is fine.” I shrug off my jacket—the room is full of bodies, and the bar is quickly heating up.

“Plenty of good-looking girls in here.” Manuel nods towards a slim brunette dancing near the jukebox, swaying to some song I don’t recognize. Her friends are gathered nearby, a rainbow of tight dresses poured over a variety of figures, all of them gorgeous. “Mix it up a little, friend. Don’t just have one taste.”

“Maybe you’re right.” I glance over at the girls again. I could go over there, buy them a drink, and offer to pay for their last round. At least one of them is likely to be interested, and if not—well, the night is young. But I can’t seem to shake the feeling that Gabriela would be hurt by it if she knew—even though that’s absolutely ridiculous. There’s no reason to think it would matter to her in the slightest, or that there would even be any reason to tell her.

“Go for it.” Manuel grins. “I know for a fact the one in the blue dress is single.”

I glance in the direction he’s nodding, one of the friends, a curvaceous girl with dyed-blonde hair and an inch of roots proving it. From the way she’s dancing on another of her friends, she’d be a hellcat in bed, but I can’t muster the desire to go over to her.

“Maybe I’ll just get a good night’s sleep instead,” I joke, giving Manuel a wry grin as I drain the double shot of tequila. “But for now, I’ll take a refill.”

However, the second drink doesn’t make me any more inclined to take someone home, and I start to think that my comment to Manuel about getting a full night’s sleep sounds pretty damn good after all. The last two nights, I’ve slept deeper and better than I have in some time, thanks to taking the edge off with Gabriela, but a night uninterrupted by anything sounds good, too.

There’s tomorrow night, as well. And then, a week ahead of me dealing with Ricardo Santiago and trying to find a compromise that will benefit us both, while not putting our men in a bad spot. A compromise that will please both LiamandConnor as well, which is a tall order these days. The two brothers always thought differently, but time has only widened that gap.

That’s a problem for the week ahead, though. I finish off my shot, leaving cash on the bar for Manuel as I head out into the cool night for a cigarette and some time in the evening air to clear my head before I drive. I lean against the stone wall of the bar, taking a drag of my cigarette, and blow the smoke out in frustration.

I miss her.That’s all there is to it. It makes no sense—I barely know her, and it’s not at all what this was meant to be. As I stand out there and shrug on my leather jacket as I flick ash from my cigarette, I look out at the neon-lit night, and it feels as if she’s missing from it.

For all you know, she’s already someone else’s.She might have met someone in a more wholesome place than a bar, and that’s why she didn’t show up. Or she might have decided that two nights was enough and moved on. As I should.

So why does the thought of another man’s hands on her make me feel murderous?

I scrape my cigarette against the wall, flicking it away, and head to my bike. There’s a somewhat comfortable bed waiting for me and a hopefully dreamless sleep.

---

Despite my certainty that Gabriela is finished with our affair, I find myself back at theSangrethe next night as well, nursing a tequila and telling myself that if Gabriela doesn’t show, I’ll pick up a different girl instead and put her behind me. But it doesn’t matter, because an hour into sitting there chatting idly with Manuel and watching the bar patrons with mild interest, I see her step into the room.

She’s wearing a green slip dress, made of some silky fabric that glides over her curves and makes her look utterly stunning, the color offsetting her features perfectly. I’m pleased to see she’s wearing flats again, too, a better pick for what I have planned for us than heels.

“Here you go,” I tell Manuel, sliding two twenties over to him. “Time for me to head out.”

He glances towards the door, giving me a knowing grin when he sees Gabriela walking in. “Have a good night,” he says with a wink, and I stride straight towards Gabriela, not missing the way her eyes widen with pleasure when she catches sight of me.

“I hoped you’d be here,” she murmurs, looking up at me. “Do you want to stay, or—”

“I’d like to leave with you.” I step towards her, the noise and atmosphere of the bar disappearing as I breathe in her sweet scent. “But I have an idea for what I want to do tonight.”

“Oh?” Gabriela raises an eyebrow, and I reach for her hand, guiding her back out to the street.

“Do you trust me?” I give her a rakish grin, and she laughs, covering her mouth with one hand.

“I think so.” She looks up at me with those doe eyes, her fingers tightening in mine. “I’ve gone back to your hotel alone twice now, so I would hope so.”

“We’re going somewhere else tonight, first.” I keep my fingers intertwined with hers as we head to the bike, enjoying the feeling of her soft, delicate palm pressed against mine. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

I help her onto the bike, handing her the helmet as I swing my leg over and rev it up. Turning out of the bar parking lot, I head out onto the road, enjoying the dry, cool wind blowing past me as we pick up speed. I’d never ride without a helmet back home—other drivers are dangerous enough even without taking into account other risks—but I’d rather go without than see Gabriela unprotected. It feels good, like a small taste of freedom that I’d never have experienced otherwise, an exhilarating recklessness.

Not the only unprotected, reckless thing you’ve done in the past days.

As the city lights dim behind us and we drive further down the winding desert road, the night opens up—inky blackness ahead, a canopy of stars above. I pick up speed just a little, waiting for Gabriela to react in a way that indicates I should slow down again, but she just leans into me, her arms wrapped around my waist and her cheek pillowed against my back.

A sudden, strange protectiveness washes over me—and I can’t say where it comes from or why, really. I don’t even know that there’s anything to protect herfrom, but the urge is there, and I can’t pretend otherwise to myself.

We’re a little ways out in the desert when I feel Gabriela tense slightly behind me, pulling back a little as I feel her looking around.

“You’re not taking me out here to murder me, are you?” she calls out near my ear, a laugh in her voice, but it’s a bit shaky. “I hear it’s hard to dig a grave in the sand.”


Tags: M. James Erotic