7. Miguel
7
MIGUEL
G ot you.
I watched the wary surprise set in on Isabel’s face as she turned and faced me.
It hadn’t been easy to sneak up on her, but these two men dancing with her had a dual purpose. They served as a wall for her to hide behind at the same time they gave me a chance to circle the women dancing to their right and slide up behind the raven-haired beauty.
Up close, I saw how that shitty little picture hadn’t done her justice. Standing right in front of her now, I was given a hint that my views of her from a distance didn’t do justice, either.
Within reach, inches parting us, I was treated to how fucking sexy and gorgeous she was. Under the shadows of the club, only streaks and intermittent rays of light revealed her. The back and forth between darkness and colored illumination gave her a mysterious appearance, made her more of an enigma, more of a challenge to puzzle out and understand.
And wasn’t that a delight? I relished the chance to get closer yet and really figure out who this rebellious artist was.
“Found you,” I said as a greeting, watching her slow her movements.
She stopped short at my standing there. Ignoring the men still encouraging her to dance with them, she stared at me. For a long, full moment, nothing else mattered. The pounding music fell to the background. The lights, the mass of people, even the mixed scents of too many sources of perfume, cologne, and body odor. It all ceased to faze me.
Locking my eyes on this rare woman, this unique target I couldn’t get out of my mind, I let myself zone out and focus on nothing but her. The longer she watched me, the more this intangible yet potent tug tightened between us.
I wasn’t merely drawn to her. I was becoming addicted and lured to fall deeper under the spell of her presence.
“Not for the first time, huh?” she replied in the sexiest, sassiest tone I’d ever heard. Even her voice would turn me on. Not high-pitched and whiny. Not too low and deep. Something in the middle. Something so perfect I knew she would be the only woman to ever captivate me like this.
One of the strangers noticed that she wasn’t dancing with them anymore. The idiot made the mistake of reaching his arm out to snake around her waist. He didn’t complete the action of pulling her back closer to him and his friend so they could sandwich her. Before I could move his hand away and shoot him a look that warned him to never think about touching her again, she thrust her arm down and glowered at him.
Stepping closer to me, she distanced herself from them. Then as she returned her gaze to me, walking forward and forcing me to backpedal, lest I let her crash into me and fall into my arms, she started a slow smile. A knowing, curious smile.
I heard what she’d said, but I couldn’t make this easy.
“What do you mean?” I asked as she danced again.
She wasn’t used to the clubbing scene. I could tell. While she could manage dancing and moving her body to the music, she lacked the finesse and practiced knowhow the other women had. Isabel didn’t seem bothered if she couldn’t dance like all the others, and that confidence was sexy as hell. It hardly mattered if she knew how to move like everyone else. She could do the goddamn Macarena and make it a sensual show.
“You found me all day.” She licked her lips as she checked me out. Even this perusal wasn’t ordinary. Women made it no secret when they found me attractive, but having Isabel’s eyes on me felt different. It felt better. It felt like I wanted her to never look away.
Moving with her body, because I had moves where she didn’t, I stepped even closer to stay with her. Having a conversation in a club like this was a fool’s errand. The music thumped deafeningly loud. People talked over it. She raised her voice to be heart, but as I leaned in more and danced so our bodies were almost completely flush, I could slant toward her ear and talk without yelling.
“I did?”
Playing dumb was normally a waste of time, but occasionally, the tactic had a purpose. Right now, I had no clue what my strategy was with her. All I knew was that I had to stall and drag this out to have as much time with her as possible.
She nodded, keeping her head close to mine as we danced. Sliding against me and grinding near my hips, she proved that she wasn’t running away.
If she’d noticed me watching or following her, that should’ve been the first thought in her mind—to run.
That she hadn’t confused and thrilled me.
“At my hotel. At the museum. At the bus tour…” She pulled back enough to give me a look I could only decipher as intrigue.
“And back at your hotel again,” I added.
“Why?”
I couldn’t get over the shock that she wasn’t shy. That she wasn’t telling me to fuck off for following her.
“Why not?” I asked in reply.
Daring her was too much fun. Rising to the challenge of mischief burning in her eyes was too damn exciting.
I wanted to be annoyed that she’d noticed me watching her. I should have been pissed that I was making myself obvious. I never slacked like this. Paying attention to the details was how I stayed alive. I was a master at hiding. A professional at stalking. A legend at hunting down my targets and eliminating them. It was how I could justify the astronomical fees I collected for my services. I delivered, and I did my job well.
Except, apparently, when it came to the luscious and lovely Isabel Flores.
Getting mad at myself wouldn’t do me any good. And it wasn’t like I had to stop and wonder why I’d slacked, how I might have been slightly too obvious in following her. I’d been distracted by her. I was even more distracted by her now, smelling the jasmine wafting from her, the warmth of her body wrapped in that coral dress.
Instead of internally groaning at her calling me out for following her, I had to respect that she’d noticed at all. No one else would’ve picked up on the fact that a professional assassin for the Cartel was tailing them. But she had. Isabel was a mystery to me, an artist who bore no similarity to the deviants and morons who were usually my targets. She wasn’t a wealthy socialite, either. But she was observant, and I respected that. Hell, I admired that trait.
“Why not?” she asked, tossing my question back at me.
I nodded, tormenting myself with the intimacy that spawned between us as we danced. It was just me and her in this bubble. When she lifted her gaze to mine, the rest of the universe fell away.
“Why not look for you again and again?” I trailed my hand down her side, and even though I’d only done it for an excuse to touch her, a glutton for punishment wanting to feel her, she took it as an invitation to dance closer yet.
Her breasts pushed up against my chest. Her hips bumped against mine, torturing the hard-on I tried to resist.
“The first time I spotted you…” I held my breath as she draped her arm over my shoulder, clinging to my neck. Inches. Fucking miserable little inches. That was all that remained between my lips and hers.
“Yeah?” she asked, licking her lower lip.
Tease. You fucking naughty tease. I couldn’t get enough of this woman.
“The first time I spotted you, it wasn’t enough.” Dipping my head, I shifted my feet so she’d be flush to me. Completely. I lowered my arm to wrap it around her back, securing her in my embrace.
“Hmm.”
She was either an excellent actress, a na?ve and clueless woman, or such a damned cool player that I’d met my match. What did that hum mean? What was going on in her mind? Was she going to act coy at a compliment? Was she going to pretend she didn’t care?
A woman slid up close, trying to get in and grind against my side.
Fuck off.
Without looking away from Isabel, I turned and dismissed the other woman. As cliché and cheesy as it might have sounded, I had eyes only for her.
My target. The woman I was supposed to kill.
Again, another woman sidled up too close. And again, I turned away from her and focused on the beauty in my arms. Picking up her free hand, I lifted it and instructed her to lay her other arm over my shoulder.
She didn’t balk. She didn’t protest. Still with that secret smile, she watched me and bluntly said, “What do you want?”
“What do I want?” I held back a growl at her circling her arms around my neck tighter, pushing her breasts up even more. “Is that what you want to know?”
She nodded. “That’s what I said.”
“You won’t ask why I was following you?”
“Same thing.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s not.”
“I’m confident I know why you were following me, as misguided and fucked-up as that is.”
Huh. This was getting more interesting by the second. Now wasn’t the time to pick at her question, though.
She licked her lip again, rubbing the tip of it toward one side, like an idle tell of indecision. “I asked you what you want.”
I hugged her closer as we danced, whispering into her ear, “You.”
She didn’t reply as she moved her head just slightly enough that she could see me. The brush of her cheek against mine burned. I wanted to feel that soft, smooth skin everywhere. I wanted to?—
“Explain,” she demanded. Even though it was an order, her shaky breath hinted at her weakening.
“I want you trapped without a way to escape.” I showed her in spinning her toward a column we danced next to. Desire flashed bright in her eyes as I slammed her back against it, caging her there.
Just like my fantasy I’d entertained in the hall outside her room.
“I want you defenseless to protest”—I picked up her hands to trap them over her head—“because you’d be a liar to say you don’t want me.”
Her eyes sparked with ire, flaming instantly at the bold words I said. Beneath anger and shock was that lust, though. Her body deceived her.
“Oh?” she challenged, slanting her brows down and not suggesting any meekness or submission.
Fuck, you’re playing with fire, sweetheart.
I nodded, wedging my thigh between her legs, slanting into her space even more. “Yeah. I want you right where I can show you.” I leaned in to kiss her, angling toward her face.
Her eyes fluttered. She tipped that defiant chin up. Waiting. Welcoming my kiss.
At the last second, I laid my mouth on her cheek, just to the side of her parted, plump lips. Teasing her like this was the tipping point. She huffed a loud exhale of frustration—probably more for being caught wanting my kiss—and turned her head to the side.
Yet, she made no effort to buck against me or push me back like she had that one dancer who thought he could get too close.
“I want you under my hands”—I gathered both her wrists in one hand to lower my free one—“begging me to prove it.”
“You’re so full of it,” she sassed back, turning to face me. The move brought her mouth a breath away from me, taunting me with her pink lips glistening from where she’d licked them.
“And soon, I’ll fill this pussy and make you eat your words.” I slipped my hand under her dress, rubbing the outside of her thong that was already so damp with her arousal.
Fuck. Fuck, was I weak man. On a growl, I crashed my mouth to hers. Heat coursed through my blood at the first touch. Her lips opened under mine immediately, and a flood of desire threatened to choke out my focus. All I could think and feel was how fucking good it was to have her under my hands, kissing me back like she’d never want to stop.
Moaning, humming, and pouting for more, she reached up to seal our lips together without any chance for air. Her tits brushed up against my chest as she tried to stand higher on her toes.
Yes. That’s it, sweetheart. Yes…
Leaning down, I explored her mouth. I tasted. I dueled with her tongue. And every second blurred by as perfect, torrid bliss.
Egged on to devour her, to claim her and savor all that she offered, I crushed her to the column and dismissed the thought of ever letting her out of my sight again.
I’d found her.
And now…
I had her.
I could have easily fucked her here. Right now, among the crowds dancing. Each time I stroked back and forth outside the skimpy strip of her thong, my fingertip collected more of her slippery juices.
Stuck between my fantasy and reality, I forgot about the fact that she was my target. I ignored the thought that I was supposed to be hurrying to get one last hit done before taking a break for the holidays.
The raw physical pull to her and the response she gave me were infinitely better than anything I could have imagined.
Lights shone. The bulbs shot on overhead, and even though we were making out and had our eyes closed, the brightness showed from behind our closed lids.
What—
Panic ensued. The mob of people shouted and crushed through. From every direction, all the dancers, drinkers, and guests at the club rushed and fought to get away from something near the DJ.
“Fight!” someone shouted.
“I saw a gun!”
I loosened my hold on Isabel’s wrists, ready to pull her out of the commotion with me. She was so short, she’d get trampled.
I lowered my hand and scanned the people running like crazy, pushing and shoving to get away faster. But she stepped back. Sliding from the column, her brow furrowed as she ducked and tried not to get knocked aside. She slipped further back from me.
“Wait—”
A woman plowed into her, panicky and running in tall heels that had her toppling forward from colliding into Isabel. Both women went down, twisting around the column.
“Wait!” I darted forward to catch her. To keep her with me.
But another pair wove too close to me, cutting off my sight of the woman I’d been stalking. My target.
By the time I crammed them out of my way and stood straight again, she was gone.
Isabel Flores wasn’t right there anymore. She’d slipped away.
Once again, she’d escaped. She evaded me. Merging into the crowd, she’d distanced herself from me, from the hot moment we’d carved out back there.
I gritted my teeth and ran, searching for her among the mob.
Isabel Flores… I can’t wait to find you—again.
Because I would, even if I wasn’t sure what I’d do with her now.