Snow

26 | let me buy you a drink, neva

❝looking for drugs in all the wrong places. felt a change comin', but i couldn't face it.❞

❘❘

EVERY INCH OF MY SKIN feels hot under his icy gaze, but I refuse to back down. Never.

Javier seems to appraise the challenge with mild amusement. The edges of his smirk soften, toying into an unspoken appreciation—a silent surrender.

"Let me buy you a drink, Neva," he drawls, but beneath the warmth of a flirty offer, the demand is frigid. "Maybe we can talk business."

I shiver. "Business?"

"Mmm." Dark and deadly, his gaze holds me hostage, reeling me closer... inch... by... inch... "Since you're hanging out in my turf, we should draw some lines."

Hesitation steals me for half a heartbeat. I can't drag my eyes away; I can't stop myself from sinking into the slow, subtle warning.

"I didn't know it was your turf," I muster up a weak whisper, desperate to dispel the dizzy spell and find my footing again. Because I'm stumbling and... and I'm swaying... and I'm swimming in ice cold water, uncharted territory, someone else's city.

Someone else's country.

Javier shoots me a heartbreaking smile. A hand meets my hip; a laugh flutters free. "Of course you didn't, mami."

My knees buckle, and in some self-sabotaging submission, I let myself fall.

"Okay," I say, my voice strong. "Buy me a drink."

"Neva..." Dana slurs behind me. When his gaze flickers up over my head, I still. "You don't want to get fucked up with him."

No, I just want to be fucked by him.

Javier catches my chin in a warning hold. I don't spin or squirm or even breathe. Without glancing down at me, he simply snaps, "Dana, ya puedes irte. Your new dealer and I need to talk."

Suddenly, it's every woman for herself; Dana doesn't waste a second.

As soon as her footsteps fade into the faint music, Javier hums. We separate slowly, almost sensually, and my gaze traces from his cheeks to his jaw, peppered with dark, trimmed hair I want to touch. His fingers dance down my throat delicately, another soft sound of appreciation seizing me like a chokehold.

Cada momento es lento; cada movimiento está brumoso. Everything in the bar feels fainted and faded, like a distant track of a real world that just... doesn't... exist...

In some fucked up fantasy, la sensación es perfecta—a lethal cocktail of dangerous impulse and empty desire.

When I reach behind him to drop my phone on the bar, Javier doesn't say anything. When I grab his drink and tip it to my lips, something flashes in his eyes. It sends a shiver down my spine. "No tienes que comprarme un trago."

Amusement tugs at his lips, all the silent teasing melting into a sharp smirk. I twist back to touch him, my nails clawing into the warm, white t-shirt he's wearing, cut to all the right wrinkles and ripples; it bleeds a contrast to his dark skin that leaves me grasping breathlessly.

Under the dim, dying red light, Javier looks sinister.

"You are something," he says, his voice slow and soft, nothing like the frantic, offbeat thrum of my pulse. As he thumbs my bottom lip, my heart trips. "Mmm, must be able to get away with a lot."