Chapter 9 Oath Isla
Oath
Isla
You’re sure about this?” Rolland asks quietly as Mateo unravels a rope connecting our boat to the dock.
I stay in the shadows, peering from the cabin belowdecks where they think I’m resting after our night spent on the road from Madrid to Barcelona.
“You think you know her, but you don’t. Your bounty’s now up to seven million.
What if she tipped Slange off about the lab? This could all be part of her plan.”
“She wouldn’t do that.”
“How do you know that?”
“I just do.” Mateo’s tone cuts through the sound of lapping waves and groaning wood, leaving an eerie silence behind. “Look. I’ll get her to Saint-Tropez. And when we dock in three days, she’ll go her way, and I’ll go mine.”
Rolland scowls, the metal brace around his leg creaking as he shifts his feet. “You sure about that?”
“Yep.”
“Well, then,” Rolland grumbles, softening as he claps Mateo on the shoulder. “I’ll see you in France. It’ll be the best conversation we’ve ever had, since you’ll be dead.”
Mateo barks a laugh, then steps aboard the boat as Rolland pulls the final rope free and tosses it on the deck. “Thank you for the vote of confidence. Be careful, old man.”
Rolland’s reply is lost to the rumble of the boat’s engine.
I retreat into the darkness, sinking into the plush bed.
We speed into the expanse of the Mediterranean Sea as I stare at the ceiling and nurse little wounds that ache in the depth of my heart.
If I were Rolland, I’d cast suspicion onto me too.
If I were Mateo, I’d leave me in Saint-Tropez.
I’ve conditioned myself to think the same way.
I have no family. My few close friends are all in this business, so they’re as nomadic as I am.
Who can you trust when you’re always alone?
I lay a hand over my stitched wound and fall asleep.
When I wake, the sun is low on the horizon, and the engine is silent.
After popping a few painkillers and washing my bruised face, I head above deck to find Mateo sitting on the swim platform at the stern, staring out at the shimmering water.
For a moment, I just take in the details.
His damp black hair. The droplets of water that slide down his muscular back.
The jagged lines scarring his skin. He must sense my presence, though I never made a sound, because he looks over his shoulder and smiles.
And I know I look pretty rough, with scratches and a swollen nose and purple crescents darkening my eyes.
But he looks at me like I’m beautiful too.
“Feeling any better?” Mateo asks as he rises and turns toward me. It does literally nothing for my ability to speak. His abs are cut blocks of muscle that lead to black swim shorts resting low on his hips. He’s like an ancient god, risen from the sea.
“Better . . .” is all I can manage as he stalks closer. When he stops in front of me, he bends to inspect the long gash in my thigh. My heart hammers as his cool touch follows the edge of the stitches. All too soon, he lifts his hand away and straightens, giving me a bittersweet smile.
“It looks good,” he says with a light squeeze to my arm. “But you need to keep up your strength. I’ll get you something to eat.”
Mateo moves to pass me for the galley, but I grab his wrist and hold it tight. “Wait.”
He stares down at the point of contact. It feels like he wants to look at me but won’t let himself. It’s as though something will break open if he does, and we both know it can’t be put back together.
And suddenly, that’s all I want to do. Smash every unspoken rule. Crack open this shell of a solitary life and set something unexpected free.
“Nowak will go underground,” I say. “Since Slange somehow found out where we were and what we were doing, Nowak will surely hire him to take us both out and get the pressure off his back. So what if we don’t separate in Saint-Tropez? What if we hunt them down together?”
A long, unsteady breath passes through Mateo’s parted lips.
“It’s going to get even more dangerous. There’s a bounty on you too now.
Three million already. And mine has gone up.
” He shakes his head, pain creeping into his furrowed brow.
“Between Slange and the price on both our heads, it’s a lot.
I can’t expect you to hold to our deal.”
“But you could ask me what I want to do,” I whisper, stepping closer until I feel the heat of his body. I search his face, but he still doesn’t meet my eyes. “So ask me.”
Mateo’s focus drags up my body, from my hand curled around his wrist, to the red slash on my thigh, up the buttons of my shirt and the exposed skin of my chest. Our gazes finally lock. Hunger glows in his eyes, desire smoldering like hot embers ready to burst into flame. “What do you want to do?”
“I want to try.” One more small step, and my body is flush with Mateo’s, my chest touching his with every shallow breath. “Together.”
There’s a single moment that seems balanced on the edge of a blade. Either one of us could come to our senses. We could step back. Stay away.
But we crash into each other instead.
The kiss ignites my blood and sears my bones.
Mateo is warm lips and calloused hands and the scent of the sea.
He’s taut muscle and burning need and a desperate moan.
He’s everything I shouldn’t want. He could kill me in my next ragged breath, but when he lifts me from the deck of the boat, I’ve never felt safer. More alive.
We stumble to the cabin, our kiss never breaking as his tongue plunders my mouth.
Careful of my leg, Mateo tosses me down on the bed, descending upon me as I claw my nails into his back and pull him closer.
He unfastens just enough buttons on my shirt to grow frustrated and then haul it over my head.
He unclasps my bra and tosses it to the floor.
And his touch is everywhere. He maps my scars.
Worships my breasts. Bites my flesh and inhales my scent.
And soon I’m writhing, desperate for friction as I grip his erection through his damp swim trunks.
But he just chuckles against my skin and moves out of reach, prowling down my body with his hooded gaze fused to mine.
“I’ve woken in the night imagining your taste and the sound of your moans, Víbora,” Mateo says as he drags my shorts and panties over my hips.
He hooks my injured leg over his shoulder as I bite down on my bottom lip in anticipation.
“So if we’re going to die in three days, I’m going to make enough memories of you to follow me into the afterlife. ”
And with a flash of a wicked grin, Mateo Rocha ruins me for all other men.
His tongue swirls over my clit as he grips my thighs. He sucks and bites and lavishes me with kisses. Every time I come close to the edge of coming undone, he reels me back again. When I rake my nails into his hair and hold him to me, he moans his approval into my flesh.
He likes it when I take charge. He likes it a lot.
“You’d better make me come, Rocha, or I’ll toss you overboard.”
I’ve never seen anything hotter than him smiling at me from between my legs.
A moment later, he’s sliding two fingers into my pussy, curling them at the perfect angle to stroke my inner walls as he sucks on my clit and unravels me.
Electricity bursts through my cells. Stars detonate across the black expanse of my closed eyes. Mateo’s name is a whispered prayer, one I chant over and over as the world disintegrates around me.
My pulse is still humming through my head as he kisses his way up my body.
“I’m clear,” Mateo says as he tugs his swimming trunks off. He kneels, staring down at me with limitless hunger as he slowly pumps his erection. “I’ve had a vasectomy.”
“And I’ve never heard four sexier words in my entire life.” I reach up to grasp his nape and crush his lips to mine, whimpering into his mouth. “I’m clear,” I whisper when the kiss breaks. “I haven’t been with anyone in a long time.”
He looks at me as though he’s both surprised and saddened on my behalf. But it quickly transforms to a ravenous hunger, and I know he’s not just about to end my dry spell—he’s about to obliterate it.
Mateo centers his cock to my entrance, watching every emotion that flickers across my face as he slowly pushes inside.
And it’s only in this moment that I realize how much I’ve missed such a simple human connection.
A touch. A look of adoration. Safety with someone who isn’t just me.
I think he sees it too. I think he feels the same.
It’s in the way he lowers his lips to mine.
The way he kisses me deeply and sets a languid pace of thrusts, as though we could stretch this moment to infinite time.
I lay my hands on the sides of his face, his stubble scratching my palms as I push him away just enough to see him clearly. “What if I don’t want it to end?”
His voice is quiet, his rich brown eyes searching mine. “What if I don’t either?”
His strokes deepen, stretching and filling me, pushing me closer and closer to coming undone.
A moan slips past my lips. Mateo watches me with reverence, warmth unfurling in my chest with every second I spend trapped in his gaze.
“Then we stand side by side and fight our way out of this life. We make the one we want.”
Hope blooms on Mateo’s face. Something stings in the backs of my eyes. My throat burns. “Okay, Víbora,” he says, then seals the promise in his smile with a kiss.
There are no more words after that.
The cadence of his thrusts quickens. Our kiss grows desperate.
His muscles tense beneath my hands as I roam the contours of his back.
He slips his fingers between us to circle my clit.
With a tight cry, I fall apart, and Mateo is right there with me, moaning my name as he pushes in deep and fills me.
And when every moment of my orgasm is spent, he rolls us over so I’m lying on his warm body, his cock still hard within me.
I lie like that for a long while, with my ear pressed to Mateo’s heartbeat, memorizing the sound of the steady thrum as he traces shapes on my back. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m not looking forward to Saint-Tropez.”
Mateo gently grasps my arms, guiding me up to straddle him. His gaze traverses my body, slowing as it travels my breasts, pausing on my lips, leaving a trail of heat behind in my skin.
“We have time until then,” Mateo says, thrusting up into me. A coil of need spins within my core, begging for more. He traces my nipples and I grind on his cock. “And I intend to make the most of it.”