Rock Chick 07 Regret(124)

He’d straightened and those black eyes I told the tattoo artist about were intense, beyond intense, they were burning right into me.

“How fucked up are you?” he asked.

I thought this was a strange question so my head tilted to the side and I asked back, “What?”

He let me go but only so he could pull off his t-shirt and he did this fast.

At the sight of his chest, my breath left me in a whoosh.

“How fucked up are you?” he repeated, unclipped his gun from his belt and threw it on the nightstand, all the while looking at me. “Sadie, fucked up. Shitfaced. Trashed. Loaded. Drunk. How fucked up are you?”

I was still confused, watching him, feeling his heat, his intensity and something hungry about him. Seriously hungry. Therefore, I was watching him, confused, yet getting turned on at the same time.

Way turned on.

He leaned down and pulled off his boots, sending them, in turn, sailing across the room.

Then he hands came back to me, his thumbs went into my underwear, hooking into the sides, then he shoved them down until they fell to my ankles.

Oh my God.

Did he just do that?

“Sadie, answer me.”

“Um, on a scale of one to ten?” I asked, unsure how to answer, unsure what to do, not even sure I still remembered how to breathe.

He lifted me up, I let out a surprised gasp and my arms and legs wrapped around him.

“What are you doing?” I cried.

“You put my mark on you. To show my appreciation, I’m gonna fuck you until you scream my name and I wanna make sure you remember it. Now, how fuckin’ drunk are you?”

My heart was beating wildly, my belly had melted to oblivion and I was pretty certain sure I’d had a mini-orgasm.

What I wasn’t was drunk, not anymore.

“I’m not drunk anymore.”

“Good.” He put a knee to the bed but didn’t put me down. “Now, mamita, where the tat is, I can’t be on top so you got two choices, either you ride me or I get creative. Your choice but chose now.”

I swallowed.

“Hector –” I started.

He cut me off, “Now.”

Oh my.

He meant business.

And I liked his business.

So, I whispered, “Creative.”

He grinned, slow and sweet.

Then he got creative.





Chapter Nineteen



Ibuprofen and Midol



Sadie





“Preciosa, wake up.”

My eyes opened and I saw Hector sitting on the side of the bed. He had on jeans and a tight-fitting, navy t-shirt and he looked awake and alert.

I glanced at him through slitted eyes.

He had worked last night, late, then he’d vigorously shown his appreciation for my tattoo just like he said he would.

And, really, how bizarre was that? It was my tattoo but apparently Hector was more excited about it than I was, as in loads more in a macho-man, badass, fuck me until I screamed his name type of way, of course.

Though, I didn’t scream his name when he made me come but I gasped it and I did this loud.

Nevertheless, he hadn’t tied one on last night, mixing margaritas with Fat Tires and tequila shots. He was likely not hungover like I knew I was at that very moment. He was not having a life filled with daily multiple-traumas. And lastly, he didn’t have an opening at his gallery tomorrow night.

So he could be awake and alert on a Sunday morning.

I was hungover. I felt it in my stomach and my head, so I was going to sleep.

To communicate all of that, I mumbled, “Sleep.” Then turned and burrowed into the pillows.

Once I did this, the covers were pulled down and I made a peeved noise but he ignored this. His hands went to my waist, he twisted me, pulling me up and across his lap, settling me there and his arms came around me.

I decided to ignore his latest smooth move and shoved my face in his neck, burrowing into his heat and hoping he’d get the message.

“Sadie, look at me,” he murmured and the way he did made my heart squeeze painfully.

I took a deep breath wondering what was happening now, pulled my face from his neck and looked at him.

“Jimmy’s downstairs,” he told me.

I let out the breath.

That was it?

Another visitor?

Boy, Hector was a popular guy.

“Jimmy?” I asked.

“Detective Marker.”

My body went tight.

Hector’s hand went to my neck and slid up into my hair.

“Harvey Balducci was murdered last night.”

All of a sudden, I felt even sicker.

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

“Jimmy wants to talk to you.”

That’s when I understood and I felt something lodge in my throat, so big, it threatened to choke me.

“I didn’t do it,” I blurted and, as I was concentrating on swallowing, I didn’t notice Hector’s brows draw together.