Chapter 36
chapter thirty-six
MARISOL
“I got this one after a shoot as a gift,” I say as I slide out of my ensuite in a mesh pink bralette with soft velvet love hearts adorning the fabric, and a matching pair of panties.
“I think I might die from starvation,” Leo says from where he lies against my pillows. “Come here, gorgeous.”
I do as he says and saunter over to the side of the bed where he wraps his arms around me and pulls me on top of him, leaving me squealing.
“Do you know what heaven looks like?” he asks, his hands finding a home on my hips. “’Cause I do. It’s this.” He flips us over so that he’s on top of me and kisses me senseless. “You’re fucking impossible.”
I can’t help but smile as he sits up. Every word from Leo’s mouth is like a drop of pure ecstasy, one that’s filling up a well somewhere deep inside of my chest that I didn’t even realize was empty.
It’s like I can’t do anything but believe him. His tone doesn’t leave any room for disagreement. I’m not sure I’ve ever truly believed someone when they told me I was perfect, because perfect has always been this unattainable thing that I’ve chased so hard, never able to reach.
But when Leo tells me I’m beautiful, I wonder if I still need to keep chasing perfect, because it could never feel as sweet as that. And for some reason, I think Leo would speak with the same conviction whether there were an extra few numbers on the scale or not.
“Where’s that camera of yours?” he asks. “I want to try it out.”
I point to the top of the dresser that he went rifling through last night to find my stash of condoms. I thought he brought over the whole strip because he couldn’t be bothered to rip one off, but we used all four.
I’m honestly not sure if I slept at all last night.
I’m not sure if he did either. We spent hours tangled in each other, not able to stop once we started.
I’ve never been that way. Never been the kind of girl to go for round two, let alone any more than that, but last night, I couldn’t stop.
Couldn’t stop wanting him. Wanting to feel him from different angles and at different speeds.
We got tired, so we rested, curled up in each other’s arms, our hearts beating together.
But that didn’t last long before one of us got excited again.
“Alright,” Leo mutters as he plays with the camera, figuring out which buttons he needs to push. He holds it up to his eye. “Pose for me, covergirl.”
I laugh, throwing my head back, and I hear the snap of the camera. The small Polaroid begins to slide out of the slot at the front, and Leo moves to take another picture.
“Look at me.” I do. Resting back on my elbows, I point my toe toward the camera, and I see his grin poking out from behind the machine as he captures the moment. He lowers the camera.
“Roll over.” I smirk at him, but do as he says, finding myself exhilarated by following his instructions the same way I did during the night.
“For god’s sake, Marisol,” he groans, and I smile over my shoulder as he takes another photo, the Polaroids collecting on the comforter at the end of the bed.
I push back onto my hands and knees, and Leo curses as his hand finds my lower back, sliding it up my spine until he reaches the strap of my bra. When I think he’ll stop and unhook it, he slides his hand back down until he’s palming my ass.
“Keep coming,” he says, and I push myself all the way back until I’m kneeling at the end of the bed, my back still to him.
He slides a possessive hand around my waist and pulls me into him, my back pressed firmly to his front, and his hand roams up to cup my breast. I moan, my body reminding me of how it feels to have his mouth there instead.
He slides my hair over my shoulder, and his lips meet the warm skin of my neck.
He kisses me there, moving up until he reaches my ear, nipping at it before he says, “Smile.” He holds the camera up in front of us, and I laugh as he takes the picture, his other hand still firmly cupping me through my bra.
He kisses my cheek as he steps away, and I have to lean forward to stop from falling off the back of the mattress.
“Put this on,” he says, and I feel something land on my back.
“If you don’t cover up for a minute, I’m not going to be able to stop myself from taking you again, and I think you deserve a break, and probably a bath first.” I grin to myself as I put on the hoodie whose ownership is very debatable nowadays, and lie back on the bed.
I see Leo smirking as he looks down at the Polaroid in his hand, and he doesn’t meet my gaze as he searches the floor for his wallet and slides the photo inside. I don’t mention it when he rolls onto the bed beside me.
I lie on his chest, drawing circles on his skin as he closes his eyes.
I drag my finger down his core, tracing the lines of his abs until I reach the scar just above his hip.
I look back, and his eyes are still closed as my finger dances around the jagged skin, my mind supplying me with an image of Leo on the ground, his hand over his wound, and blood seeping between his fingers.
“I was working personal security for a very powerful woman out of Milan,” he says, and my gaze jumps back up his body, but he’s still got his eyes closed, like saying it into the darkness is perhaps easier than saying it to my face.
“She was closing a business deal here in Sorrento with an equally powerful man. We never thought there was any risk of danger, not of the kind that we found ourselves in anyway. As far as she was concerned, we were there as a formality.”
I keep drawing gentle patterns on Leo’s skin, not daring to stop, not daring to speak because he doesn’t have to tell me this. Any of it.
“I had a team there. Guys on the outside monitoring the venue, two guys outside the door, and then me inside the room, along with this man’s own security guard,” he says.
“The deal went down smoothly. It was a cash payment—hence her interest in having security around—but it all went well. The gentleman left with his payment in hand, and his security got him out of there with no problems. If something was going to happen, the chances of it happening outside that exchange were minimal. I mean, we work on the idea that there’s always a chance, always a risk, but even so, we assumed we were essentially in the clear.
He was the one with the cash now, not her.
” I nod even though he’s still not looking at me, and I wonder if he’s not finding peace behind his eyes, but his own memory.
“I drove with her back to her residence, just as a final precaution, but we popped a tire.” I feel my nostrils flare as my heart rate picks up, and I have to focus to keep my movements against his skin steady, because it might be doing nothing, but it might be helping too.
“The driver went out to check, and I knew in my bones something was wrong. Then, I heard him hit the ground. I paged my team, but we were taking fire. The car and windows were bulletproof, and all the doors were locked…except the driver’s.
One of the attackers opened the door, and I shot him before he could reach her, but he had hit the button to unlock the rest of the doors.
He went down, but then her door was open, and she was being dragged out.
I couldn’t get a shot in because the fucker was using her as a shield.
Then my door opened, and a guy fired at me.
Somehow, he missed, and I clipped him in the shoulder before I kicked open the door and got him in the chest.” His eyes flinch as he explains, like he can still hear every shot ringing in his ears.
I’d stopped my movements without even realizing it, my hand finding his on his chest. I hold it tight as I imagine this scene playing out, imagine Leo… killing someone.
“My client, she couldn’t fight, and by the time I made sure the rest of the crew was dead, the guy who took her was dragging her off the road and into the woods.
We were so close to her house, Marisol.” He finally opens his eyes.
“It was just around the corner. All she needed to do was run, but he’d shot her in the foot, ensuring she couldn’t get away easily.
” I squeeze his hand as I look up at him, and I can see it all written in his eyes.
The torture that even talking about this puts him through, the pain, the regret, the overanalyzing I know he would have done, wondering what he could’ve done differently.
It’s all still there in the shine in his eyes.
“I chased after them—god, I still don’t know what they wanted from her.
Money, influence…something else. He shot me, but I didn’t stop.
I couldn’t. I could feel myself getting weaker, every step after them harder and harder.
I lost so much blood.” He shakes his head.
“But I kept going. I hit the ground, but I kept going, crawled as far as I could until I could barely use my elbows to drag myself through the dirt.”
I sit up, leaning back against the headboard and pulling Leo’s head into my lap. He doesn’t fight me; he just lays a hand over my knee. “All I could think of while I was down was that I’d failed.”
“Leo.”
“No, I did,” he says. “All I could do was watch as he dragged her into a vehicle waiting on the other side of the trees. It was my job to keep her safe, and I fucking failed. I could feel my mind sliding away. I thought I was dying, and my last act was watching him close the door.”
“What happened to her?” I ask quietly, allowing him to not answer if he doesn’t want to.
“The idiot took her to her own house, so when my team showed up, the first thing they did after calling an ambulance was check her place, and they found her and killed him.”
I take a deep breath and try to piece all of this together. “Why did I never hear about this?” I ask.