Page 43 of The Love Language of the Cartel

He took a step closer, and I felt the warmth radiating off his body. “When I first proposed this arrangement, those were my primary motivations. But now . . .” His voice trailed off, and I noticed a vulnerability in his eyes that I’d never witnessed before.

“Now?” I probed, my heart skipping every other beat.

Ozias’s soft lips curved into a smirk. “Now, I find myself continually surprised by you. Your confidence, even in the face of danger. The compassion you show, despite the dark underworld you’ve been brought up in.”

A warmth spread through my chest as I listened to his words. “I’m not sure I’m as confident or compassionate as you think,” I admitted.

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “Oh, but you are,mi amor. You challenge me in ways I never expected. You bring out the best in me . . . and at times, I must admit, the worst.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that, remembering some of our more heated exchanges early on. “I guess I do have a talent for getting under your skin.”

Ozias joined in my laughter, the sound echoing through the room. It was a moment of lightness I never thought I’d share with the man known as ‘El Diablo.’ As our laughter subsided, I found myself studying him—the scars that marked his tattoo-inked skin, a testament to the violent world he inhabited and the intensity in his eyes that both thrilled and terrified me.

How did we get here? From captor and captive to . . . whatever this is now?

“You know, you bring out sides of me I never knew existed too,” I said, surprising myself with my openness.

“Is that so?” he murmured.

I nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension at the tension building between us. “I never thought I’d be capable of adapting to this world. Of finding the strength in myself I always knew I had but never thought I’d be able to fully show. At least not outside of the poker table.”

Ozias reached out, his calloused hand gently cupping my cheek. “You’ve always had that strength, Demi. You just needed the chance to show it off.”

As I leaned into his touch, I realized that for the first time in my life, I felt truly seen, not as a pawn in my father’s games, not as a prize to be won, but as myself. And in that moment, with the man who was once my enemy, I realized I didn’t want a piece, a slice, or a half. I wanted all of him. Forever.

My hand connected with Ozias’s in a decisive grasp, slowly guiding his hand away from my face and down the center of my body before stopping at the top of my pussy. The intense thumping of my heart echoed through the otherwise silent room. It was so loud I was almost sure he could hear it too.

Ozias’s eyes popped wide with a look of surprise flashing across his face before it was replaced by something darker, more primal. He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down my spine as he cupped my pussy in his hand. “Oh, you want to play? I know what’ll get you out of those clothes,” he growled.

Before I could react, Ozias was on me. His large hand wrapped around my throat, not painfully, but with enough pressure to make my pulse race and my pussy cream. He backed me up against the wall, his body pressed against mine, trapping me. I should’ve been terrified—maybe even put up a fight. But all I felt was an overwhelming surge of desire, hot, wet, and fucking urgent.

“Fuck me, O,” I growled, the words tumbling out before I had sense enough to stop them.

Ozias’s eyes popped wide then narrowed with heated intensity. “As you wish,princessa,” he promised before his lips crashed down on mine and his hand snaked around my throat.

The kiss was rough and passionate, all teeth and tongue, a battle for dominance that left me breathless. His hand left my throat, sliding down to grip my hip, pulling me impossibly closer.

I tangled my fingers in his low-cut curls, tugging sharply at the roots. He groaned into my mouth, and the sound sent a jolt of electricity through my body.

“O,” I said with a gasp as he trailed kisses down my neck, nipping at my sensitive skin. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take . . .”

“Tell me what you want, Demi,” he demanded.

“You,” I managed to whisper. “Every drop of you.”

He pulled back, his eyes searching mine. “Are you sure? There’s no going back from this.”

I nodded, my heart pounding. “I’m sure. I want this. I want you.”

A slow, predacious smile snaked up one side of his face. “Then let me show you what it means to be mine, Demi.”

The moment our eyes locked, I knew there was no turning back. His gaze was as intoxicating as the finest whiskey, leaving me drunk on its intensity. He rasped out my name again, saying it as though it was a prayer, a curse, and a promise all at once.

His hands slid down my sides, rough against the silk of my dress. The fabric slid off my body with a whisper, leaving me naked to his burning gaze. His touch became gentler then, exploring my form with care that contradicted his earlier roughness.

I arched into his touch, a gasp escaping my lips as he traced the curve of my C-cup breasts. His gaze flicked up to meet mine, and what I saw made me tremble; I felt a desire for me, raw and unfiltered.

“O,” I pleaded, needing him to understand the depth of what I felt for him. He silenced me with a kiss, his soft lips searing against mine.

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