41. Santiago
SANTIAGO
Ari letting me stay the night had become a frequent habit.
While I couldn’t say he was falling for me, considering how just this morning, he violently kicked me out of his bed, the guy was warming up.
It was the small things that proved it. Him allowing me to stay at his place, us eating together, or how he asked me to trim my pubes because he preferred them neat.
I mean, could you get more exclusive than telling your man to trim his bush?
I don’t think so. But jokes aside, Ariyan actually started showing interest in me.
Like when he asked how I’d gotten that scar on my rib cage.
He never cared for shit like that before, and now that he did… it got me excited.
Intuitively, I brushed the scar over my shirt.
I’d never given it much thought, but now that I did, I couldn’t help but recall the crazy eyes of the motherfucker who stabbed me.
Thank fuck that dude got transferred early on because I’d bet my money he was there to kill.
But back to my sexy fox, who kept my mind busy twenty-four hours, seven days a week.
Our odd dynamic started to shift on Christmas Eve, after he told me he was in debt.
Who was he in debt to? He refused to say, but from the bits he did say, I got the feeling it was one nasty son of a bitch.
Swear to God, if I ever got my hands on the bastard, I’d beat the ever-living shit out of him.
But until that day arrived, I invested my all in winning as many fights as I could.
Bet money began piling up, and the wager was getting higher with each fight.
So was the risk. Still, I was on a fucking roll, and at this pace, we’d reach our mark by the end of this year.
Ten. Million. Dollars.
Once again, the mere thought of this insane number formed a knot in my stomach, and I paused from making my coffee.
I never imagined a broke guy like me would have anything to do with so much money, and one glance at our shitty kitchen would be proof of that.
But here I was, making thousands of dollars over a single fight.
It might have been illegal, and I was risking being sent to prison if I was ever caught, but fuck it.
My parole had ended last month, and with Ari’s freedom on the line, ain’t no way I was backing out.
A smile pulled on my lips at the thought of him and how freaking sexy he was.
Shit. We fucked all night, yet it seemed my dick still hadn’t had enough, with how it had just jerked in my sweats.
And as I poured hot water into my mug, I remembered how sexy Ari looked when I blew him in the shower.
If before sleeping with him I thought one fuck would be enough, now I realized nothing ever would.
Every kiss, every bite, every taste… it left me fucking starving for more.
From top to bottom, he was perfect. Whether it was how soft his skin felt or how firm his muscles were pressed against me, the shape of his lips, down to the arch of his back, he was a walking, breathing wet dream. Or, in his case, a fucked-up nightmare.
I could go on talking about his body for hours, because I kid you not, every part of him made me throb. But the scary thing was that it went beyond the physical shit. Sure, he had an ass I’d die for, and our sexual chemistry was off the charts, but the way I felt around him drove me nuts.
He was fucked-up to the core. Without a doubt, the most screwed-up guy I’d ever met, and yet, I’d never felt so at peace next to someone else before.
He once said we were nothing alike, and I get it, he was ice-cold while I was a fucking blaze, but maybe that’s what made it make sense, the fact that there was none?
Not that it actually mattered. In the end, I felt good around him, and that was enough of a reason to hold on.
“Look who’s finally home,” my brother said, snapping me out of my thoughts.
Turning around to face him, I found him at the entrance to the kitchen. From the looks of it, he’d just woken up. Which was nice, considering it was before noon.
“Hey,” I said, grabbing my cup of black coffee and taking a sip. It tasted good, but not nearly as good as the coffee at Ari’s place. Despite not drinking any, he’d recently bought a new espresso machine, and I drank that fancy shit by the gallon.
“Found a new boyfriend or somethin’?” Nacio yawned while moving to check the fridge.
“No.”
He took out the milk. “Bullshit.”
“Don’t drink from the carton, dumbass.”
Ignoring me, he took another sip before placing the milk back in the fridge and kicking the door closed.
“Seriously, bro, if you got a new man, just say so.” He grinned at me like a jackass. “Or did you finally switch to pussy—”
“Fuck off,” I hissed, then took another long gulp of my coffee while he went on laughing.
“You know I’m joking, right?” He fist-bumped my shoulder. “Just wonderin’ where my big bro disappears to all the freakin’ time.”
Turning my back on him, I placed the empty mug in the sink and turned on the tap. “Work keeps me busy, not to mention training.”
He huffed. “Yeah, yeah, you and your fake training.”
I held the cup tighter under the running water. “What’re you getting at, Nacio?”
“I just don’t buy that you get your hands and face so fucked-up just from sparrin’, that’s all.”
My irritation grew, and I placed the mug down before I broke it. Turning off the water, I grabbed a towel to dry my hands then turned to face him.
“So, how’d you get those bruises?” he asked.
“The fuck’s with all these questions, huh?”
His brows pulled into a deep frown. “Dunno. The fuck’s up with you keepin’ shit to yourself?” He bit on his bottom lip, just like Ariyan did whenever he was upset. “Seriously, Santi, I know you’re lying ’cause ain’t no fuckin’ way your hands look like this just from punching a bag.”
Not saying a word, I kept my mouth shut because he had every reason to suspect me. Fighting bare-knuckled sure left my hands in a shitty state, and it was hard to cover up. Still, Nacio wasn’t the type to shove his nose where it didn’t belong, or so I thought.
“I’m back fighting, okay?”
His eyes widened, his brows nearly reaching his hairline. “What—”
“Don’t get excited. It’s just some lame tournaments that a guy I used to work with hosts. Nothing big.”
“Fuck yes.” He fisted his hands. “Can I come? Wait, no, can I fight?”
“Fuck no.” I grimaced, clenching my jaw. “It’s fucking illegal.”
“So what?” He stepped closer. “You do it.”
“Well, I’ve already got a record.”
“Who cares—”
I grabbed his shoulders. “I do, dumbass.”
He rolled his eyes, so I gave him a little shake. “Hey, what did I tell you about trouble?”
Averting his stare, he muttered something under his breath. Having none of that, I cupped his jaw and forced him to look at me.
“Ignacio.”
“You said to stay away from it.”
“Damn right I did.” I pointed at him. “And you better listen, or I’ll kick your fucking ass.”
He still seemed upset, with that cute little pout on his lips, but he’d always been this way. Ever since he was a baby, he followed me wherever I went, throwing the biggest tantrums when he couldn’t.
“Hey.” I moved my hand to the back of his neck. “One day, I’ll take you with me to a real fight, I promise.”
He scrunched his nose. “Whatever.”
“Come on, Nacio… don’t give me that look.” I stroked his cheek. “Besides, you have too much of a pretty face to get it fucked up in some lame fight, yeah?”
He lifted his stare off the floor to meet me, a hint of a smile on his lips.
“You’re right… I’m not ugly like you,” he muttered.
Smiling, I pulled him into a bear hug. “Watch who you’re calling ugly.”
“I can’t breathe,” he whined, tapping on my back until I finally let him go.
“How about we grab some dinner after my shift today?”
“Will you pay?”
“Don’t I always?”
He grinned like the greedy little brat he was.
This kid… I swore he’d end up marrying some old sugar mama in the end.
“Yeah, I’ll pay. But only if you help me clean the house.” I glanced around the place. “It looks like shit.”
“It always looks like shit.”
“Watch it.” I slapped his chest—just as a tease—and he winced. My brows pinched together because no way had I hit him that hard, and the way he immediately reached over to rub the spot awakened my suspicion.
“Nacio.”
“What?” He played dumb.
“Why did you jump like that?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know what you mean.”
I pointed at him. “When I touched you, you jumped like a little bitch.”
“Oh, that… Mhmm, I pulled a muscle. Anyway, I’ll go start cleaning up my room—”
Before he could slip away, I grabbed his shirt and lifted it up, my eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets at the sight of the new tattoo he’d gotten.
“What the fuck did you do?” I hissed, my fist clenching the fabric tighter as I reread Tess’s name that this moron had tattooed right over his heart.
“It’s my body, alright?”
He tried moving away, but I only pulled him closer.
“Are you fucking dumb or what?” I yelled, already feeling my pulse throbbing in my temples. It was one thing to waste his time on that puta, but tattooing that bitch’s name over his fucking chest? Was he trying to piss me off?
“Answer me!”
“We love each other!” he shouted.
“La perra estúpida… Did she make you do it?”
Nacio placed his hand on top of mine, forcing me to let go.
“Watch who you call perra!” he yelled back, his cheeks flushed. “I-I’m going to marry her—”
“Oh, fuck off with that bullshit.”
His face turned red, and the idiot stomped his foot.
“You’re so full of shit, you know? Treating me like a fuckin’ kid.”
I huffed and waved at him. “Clearly, you are—”
“I’m twenty!” His voice cracked. “And you’re not Dad, so fuck you. You can’t fuckin’ tell me what to do.”
You’re not Dad.
“You’re damn right I’m not,” I growled, my anger nearly choking me. “’Cause I ain’t some drunk loser who doesn’t give a shit about you.”
It was then that something crossed Nacio’s eyes—pure rage.
“What do you even know? You weren’t even there when he died, asshole.” He spat out the words, his tone accusing.