Page 103 of Hit Man
“Dios mío. I could fuck you all day and all night.” He flashes me his dimples.
My Godis right.
We lie there for what seems like eternity. Our connection strong, our bodies weak with pleasure. Cuddling, out here in the alley . . . on a coffee table . . . in public . . .
A loud creak fills the air. The only warning before the legs of the coffee table give out from our weight.
Reflexes fast, Diego turns and bears the brunt of our fall.
I’m too stunned for words. By the table . . . by everything.
“Chavita,” he says with a chuckle, “you certainly know how to get a man on his back.” He kisses me sweetly on the cheek, an intimate, loving gesture. Especially coming from such a badass.
It’s moments like this that feel like a dream. What every girl can hope for in a lover . . . in a man she loves. If you asked me a day ago, an hour even, about the most earth-shattering moment of my life, I’d have said the night he fucked me six ways to Sunday and afterward, fed me steak.
Until now.
Who would have thought I’d open my heart to a wild card like him? A life with a man like Diego wouldn’t be quiet, let alone predictable.
Opposites attract, he’d said. I suppose I’ll have to be the levelheaded person in this relationship.
I draw up the courage to tell him so but am interrupted by a loud, banging noise.
Diego tenses, and I feel his hand slide across my ass as he hastily secures my skirt in place and hoists me up onto my feet. “Run.”
“What’s going—” I begin.
A man’s high-pitched bellow has me moving, racing down the alleyway in the direction we’d come. I glance over my shoulder and see Diego gaining ground on me, his black leather pants in one hand, his boots in another, and a huge smile spread across his face. Somehow he manages to toss money into the air, a trail of it floating like feathers to the earthen alleyway. Payment for the damage we caused.
A small white-haired man is hurrying after us, waving a large broom in his hand.
“My table. Look what you sex fiends have done,” he screeches. Yeah,sex fiendis one of many naughty Spanish words I’ve learned.
Diego catches up to me and, ignoring the stares of two men walking by, wraps his pants around his waist and mounts his bike in his underwear.
“My hotel room is downtown,” I offer.
“Come on. Get on.”
I slide onto his motorcycle and wrap my arms around his waist.
“Diego?”
“Yeah.” He peers over his shoulder at me.
“You certainly have a sixth sense for trouble.” I grin at him.
“Aubrey.”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
30
Diego
Aubrey sips her tea, an air of contentment surrounding her. I’ve taken her toA Cup of Happiness, a teahouse and a place I thought she might enjoy while I figure out my next steps.
