His Territory

20

I gasp, standing fully exposed in front of Cristian. His gaze sweeps over my bare body, tracing each curve with an intensity that sends a shiver through me.

"Holy fuck," he breathes, his eyes widening as he takes in the sight of me—completely naked for the first time.

I quickly bend to retrieve the towel, but he moves faster, snatching it up with a smirk. He swings it back and forth, teasing me, his eyes gleaming like he's won a prize.

"I'm going to give this back," he says, amusement lacing his voice, "because I know I don't deserve to see every delicious inch of you after what I said." He steps forward, wrapping the towel around my back, leaving my front exposed. He dips his head, planting light kisses at the top of my breasts, his breath warm on my skin.

I pull the towel closed, covering myself, and step back, breaking his embrace. He lets out a disappointed sigh, shaking his head. "Qué mierda," he mutters under his breath, a flicker of frustration crossing his face.

The charged air between us cools, and I release a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding, my gaze dropping to the floor.

"I'm going to get dressed. Wait for me in the living room," I say, taking a step back. "Then we'll talk."

He nods, backing away, leaving me alone in the bathroom. I dry off, throwing on a pair of sweats and a loose shirt before joining him in the living room. Cristian stands by the window, staring out at the street, his posture tense.

My footsteps echo as I enter, and he turns, meeting my eyes. "Tuesday night," he begins, his voice steady but low. "We'll hand you over to them. The boys will grab the money while I deliver you to Adrián."

I shudder at the sound of his name, my stomach twisting with disgust.

"Once they have you, we'll let them drive away. The boys will be waiting at the end of the street. They'll stop the car, and while those bastards are distracted, I'll get you out. After that, we're gone."

He leaves the window, crossing the room to where I'm seated on the couch. He kneels in front of me, taking my hands in his, pressing soft kisses to my knuckles.

"I'm taking you to Guadalajara until things cool down. They won't follow us into Mexico." His eyes search mine, his voice carrying a rare tenderness. "Once they leave L.A., we'll come back for your things. We'll get a place near UCLA, so you can finish school. After that, we'll leave California for good."

I stare down at our hands, his fingers wrapped tightly around mine, his grip warm and possessive. "Why are you making such elaborate plans for someone you barely know?" I ask quietly, letting my gaze fall.

Cristian tilts my chin up, forcing my eyes back to his. "I told you, you're it for me. I have to win." He leans in to kiss me, but I turn my face, his lips brushing my cheek instead.

He sighs, moving to sit beside me. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier," he murmurs, his voice heavy. "I haven't felt this way before. You're... different."

"Different?" I repeat, my brow furrowing.

He looks at me, his eyes brimming with something raw, almost vulnerable. "You are my wildest dreams, Lucia. A drug I can't shake, an obsession I can't kick. You're the beginning of something beautiful, and you'll be the end of me."

He slips an arm under my legs, pulling me into his lap. I settle against him, his hold both protective and possessive.

"You're it for me, Lu," he whispers, his words almost a vow.

Later that night, I stay up, flipping through the orientation materials for UCLA, absorbing every detail. School starts next month, and I want to be prepared. As I read, my stomach rumbles, reminding me I haven't eaten. I decide to head to the corner store for some snacks, glancing at the clock. It's getting late, but I'm sure I'll be quick.

I throw on a jacket and slip into my sneakers, heading out into the dark, quiet street. The chill in the air prickles my skin, and I realize I left my phone on the couch, but I shrug it off, quickening my pace.

The bell chimes as I enter the shop, and I scan the shelves, grabbing some cookies and chips. As I approach the counter, I notice a man at the back, rifling through the drink cooler. He's tall, dressed in black track pants and a hoodie.

I feel his gaze as he looks up, and I quickly turn my attention to the cashier, handing over my cash and taking my bag. Just as I reach for the door handle, a presence looms behind me, close enough that I can feel his breath chilling my skin.

Hands grip my waist, pulling me back against a solid chest, and a familiar voice whispers into my ear, "Didn't he tell you we'd find you?"