Page 671 of One More Kiss

“What have I taught you, Tomás?” Elias tsks, his voice husky with evil intentions. “Even young girls with angel faces can slit your throat while they fuck you.”

Tomás cocks his head ever so slightly, drilling his fierce eyes into mine. His neatly presented hair, so dark and thick, is shaved close to the sides and smartly textured on top.

Tiny twinkling studs subtly enhance his earlobes, so even the simplest part of him oozes fortune. He doesn’t smile or offer any hint of compassion. The air thickens under his silent judgment. He makes a faint noise under his breath and rotates the thick gold band encompassing a vermilion gemstone on the middle finger of his left hand. It’s a replica ring to the one his father wears on his wedding finger.

I swallow a gulp of air. The shame of my reaction to his low hum rips through me like wildfire during a blistering drought. His family deals in illegal drug trafficking, recruiting gangs, and organized street crime on a level that normalizes death for disobedience. I’m sure that's only for starters.

This nineteen-year-old may be innocent to the world, but I’m well informed on the workings of bad men. And today I’m in another snake pit where a solitary fanged bite would paralyze their enemy—me.

Yet never have I experienced such a powerful response from a singular look. A look that dares me to step out of line.

He’s eyeing me up like a young doe too far from the herd. So why am I attracted to him?

What I hate most of all about this god-like man is that his cavalier gaze hasn’t left me, not for one second. The unreadable wisp of black smoke swirling in his eyes speaks to me at a volume higher than any frequency.

I shiver, exhausted from the aftermath of the mind-numbing sedatives that were forced into me and my rigidly held muscles. Worn out from the crashing wave of adrenaline coursing through my veins, constantly wondering if I’d die from one minute to the next.

It’s tiring, forcing strength when I have zero control over the next few minutes. Now, the worst possible scenario of all, spirals like a cyclone of ash after a forest fire.

A sordid hook pierces my logic and connects me to this dominating man. That crazy, hairbrained thought makes my cheeks burn. I have a ridiculous fascination with his polished sophistication when I should bargain for my life.

“Do you want war, Elias?” The Mexican grits out between his teeth. One stride carries him toward his captors.

Bang!

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