Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 74882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“You order,” I tell him, loving how freeing it is to not have to worry. So often, I pride myself on being this strong, independent woman. I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t feel good to have Camilo take care of me. Even as simple as ordering me food.
He rattles off something to the bartender in Spanish. I make a mental note to buy the Spanish Rosetta Stone audiobooks so I can learn this language. I learned Japanese when I spent a few months in Tokyo with Daddy closing a huge deal. If I can learn enough of that language to get by, surely I can learn Spanish too.
Why?
Because I want to.
And I want to know what everyone here is saying.
I have a moment of realization where I remember I won’t be coming back. It’s pointless to learn Spanish. After tonight, I won’t see Camilo again.
“I’m going to run to the restroom. Can you get me a margarita?” My mom used to think margaritas fixed everything. If that idea was good enough for her, it’s good enough for me.
“Be careful, babe,” he says, clutching my hand. “Give everyone your signature bitch glare and you should be safe from any assholes trying to take what’s mine.”
His?
Babe?
I decide to choose anger over confusion and punch his hard stomach. “I don’t have a signature bitch glare.”
“Sher, you so do. You’re doing it right now.” He laughs with his whole body and damn if it isn’t infectious.
“Just get me a drink, boy,” I huff out, storming away.
I’m smiling, though.
Camilo is one of the few people who’s managed to burrow inside me. I try not to analyze what that means because after tomorrow, it won’t matter. We’ll fly back together and then my life moves on.
After a bathroom break, I chance a look in the cracked bathroom mirror. I expect to cringe and hate what I see. Truth is, I don’t recognize the girl in the reflection. She has pink cheeks, kissed from the sun. Her lips are curled up into a carefree smile. Brown hair is wild and escaping its ponytail. It’s her eyes that are so different. Not hard and calculating. They’re soft and eager and hopeful.
God, I’m going to break that girl’s heart tomorrow.
I wash up, swallowing down my emotion. By the time I make it back to the bar, a giant margarita sits in my place along with our beer snacks. The soup looks decadent. It’s the other things that have me confused.
“What are these?” I ask, pulling out a white wedge dusted with seasoning.
“Jicama or a Mexican turnip.”
I take a bite. It’s potent and spicy from what tastes like chili powder. I quench the fire by sucking down a good portion of the best margarita I’ve ever tasted.
“Careful, abejita,” he says with a cocky grin. “Keep drinking like that and your night will take a drastic turn.”
“Love?”
“And cocks.”
I choke on another bite of my Mexican turnip. “Cocks? As in plural?”
His features darken. “Wait. No, one cock. Just one. Mine.”
“Hmm.” With my eyes on his, I suck down more of my potent drink. “But these are so good.”
He clutches my bare thigh and squeezes it as he leans in. “Tonight, I’m going to fuck you in your bed. I’m going to lick every inch of you. I’ll stay buried deep inside your tight pussy until the sun comes up.” His palm slides up my thigh under my dress, making me burn hot all over. “Stay sober enough that you enjoy every sensation.”
Chapter 18
Camilo
This woman.
Goddamn, she drives me crazy.
Crazy with need. She’s such a far cry from the woman who insulted me the day I met her. Now she’s carefree and smiling. I want to keep her. Seems like such a simple notion. But it’s not that simple. I’m not sure how to make our stories align so that they weave together. It feels impossible without sacrifice. I’m not sure either of us has it in us to make that sacrifice. Not on a chance. A maybe. A feeling. That’s all this is, right?
My gut tells me otherwise.
My brain tells me to pump the brakes.
My heart’s already a goner.
Fuck.
After two giant margaritas for her and the one beer I’ve been nursing, we eat our food and then pay. I take her out on the dance floor, no longer able to simply watch her. I need her in my arms. “La Bamba” by Son Jarocho plays loudly on the speakers and Sheridan starts dancing like this is her song. I’m amused as she wriggles her ass, her hooded eyes on me. I clutch her hips, twist her around so that her back is flush with my chest, and then I start moving my hips. She pushes her ass against me, very much aware of what she does to me based on the Texas-sized boner I have. I caress her hips through her thin dress, playfully teasing the fabric up.