The Sweetest Kill (Morales' Cartel #1)

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//Song - main attraction by Jeremy Renner.

Aliyah looked herself in the mirror, the strapless dress in metallic gold lamé fabric clung to her like a second skin. Her white skin was a sharp contrast against the gleaming colour. The knee-length gown was fitted in the waist and the full skirt had tulle sewn in the layers for volume and an oversized bow was placed in the front. Her platinum blonde hair was bundled in a bun with few tendrils tickling her flushed cheeks. With a final stroke of bold red on her lips, she finally let out an appreciative sigh.

Her husband told had her to look at her best in the party. He got a thrill when somebody would get envious of his possession but it took rare seconds to change that thrill into insecurity and ultimately into proprietorial behaviour.

The party was suffocating and exhausting, she could scarcely eat anything without anyone looking at her with a strange eye. Thank goodness! Her husband was with Mateo Morales. She already had enough of this party without him breathing down her back. And the spacious bathroom of the mansion was even more strangling. She needed to get out of here real quick.

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This place was perfect. Dark and quiet. She could lick her banana pastry, or gobble it like a madman and no one would even notice! When the last piece melted, her heart shattered. Letting out a moan she cleaned her fingers with tissue paper. Still heartbroken, she was wiping her mouth when somebody shoved her on the wall. Her cheek stung against the cold side and she winced. Who was this dumbhead?

Aliyah stilled when she heard a gruff voice. Pinned between the harsh surface and the heat of a manly torso reddened her cheeks. The muzzle of the gun pressed against her temple reminded her to make an attempt to save her life. But damn! He was infuriating.

"I am Mrs Salazar. Now, are you letting me go or should I call my husband?"

The press of the muzzle loosened but she could still feel his low warm breath on her ears, his male body which was hard against her smooth back and his large legs in jeans holding her warm thighs. In a flash, she felt his hand skimming the back of her thighs and she jerked, "What the hell do you think you are doing?"

In response, he shovelled his hips more and his rough fingers inched towards her panties, "Checking if you are hiding a gun." His voice was smoky, the note of low timber and the hint of Spanish accent hung around her senses getting her knees weak.

Clearing the gather of nerves from her throat, she croaked, "I told you I am Mrs Salazar and I don't know your mother's number if my husband found you checking my panties."

He chuckled, the low hum in his chest vibrated on her neck and fleshes of pimples erupted, "Your mouth is making angry."

"Try moving your body away from me. It's a great remedy, at least for now." He stepped back and unexpectedly she felt cold. As if she was suddenly transported into a large icy room. The only source of warmth was the tingles that throbbed her thighs.

She turned her back and saw her captor, he was almost 5'11. The twilight covered his face but outlined the wide shoulders that narrowed down to his waist. She didn't dare move her eyes further to the part that had clasped her in a tight grip.

"Is that your perverse habit of feeling up a woman?" She bit out, a part of her was annoyed because of feeling bizarre due to a man she had never even seen the face of.

"For a married woman, you sure get aroused fast by strangers." Aliyah's cheeks flushed a shade more and a rush of heat flowed through her veins. His tone was mocking and it grated on her nerves

"I am done talking to you. Allow me to leave while I tell my husband about you." Whirling swiftly, she was about to hurry down when his next sentence fully flared her insides.

"You mean how I made you slippery between your legs."

Suppressing an impulse to slap the shit out of his face, she clamped her teeth tight, "I-" The ring on his cell phone interrupted her and she waited for him to finish.

"Oh yeah! I got this." Somehow she sensed that he was staring at her while attending the phone call.

"You are being called, Mrs Salazar and I am to take you back to your husband." That tone! That gruff timber voice, it strained her belly every time he spoke.

She narrowed her eyes when he walked past her. Huffing a furious gust, she followed him. As they passed the backyard, the sudden light constricted her pupils and she blinked. The white lantern glowed on his black t-shirt and blue acid-washed jeans. His shoulders were really broad. The web of veins snaked around his his thick arms and bulging biceps. His hips were taut and the way he dragged his long masculine legs made her throat dry. His steps were confident, sure, and controlled. God! What the hell she was thinking?

Abruptly he veered around and for a brusque second she was:

Naked.

Exposed.

Sensitive.

Taking the advantage of watery light, she peered at his profile. And a gasp of horror passed through her lips. A map of scars was blanketed over his face. Numerous splashes grooved on his skin. The most gruesome was the cut on his left cheek and a blotch interrupted his eyebrow. Each scar told her a different tale in which he was tortured. Her throat clogged at the thought of cruelty he withstood, it took her back to the time when...

"What happened princess? Got scared? Where is that smart mouth of yours?" His tone was laced with anger and beneath it was the barest hint of the sense of hurt. Stepping forward, he muttered, "you have gone unusually quiet, I wonder why?" he bit out harshly. A nasty green vessel popped on his neck as he paced onward.

Aliyah stepped back, his scars became more dominant and they became more. The taunt wasn't lost on her, it whacked a deep pang in her breast. In what ways he must have been tortured, even the thought of it sent a shiver of horror beneath her spine. An unreal urge to protect him, console him washed her brain. Licking her lips, she started to clarify her mute state. "It's not what you are thinking-"

A jagged pad of thumb brushed the tear away on her silken cheek and the realisation dawned that she was crying for the pain he felt a long time ago. His cosmic presence drugged her awareness but the intensity in the ink-black eyes kept her on the ground. She was clearly drunk. She allowed her eyes to wander around, the way his t-shirt emphasized the expanse of his chest and clasped around his thick torso.

Strutting behind he held her eyes (the reason why she was still standing) and spoke in a low voice, "Go back to your husband before he makes a scene."

Oh God! Her husband. She had been out for quite sometime and now his wrath was something, she wasn't looking forward to. She didn't even have a proper excuse to make - as if excuses had ever saved her from that monster. Bracing herself, she took one last look at the man and moved towards the mansion.

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~ S M I L E.