Raúl’s silence endured only long enough to ensure that I’d finished. “You didn’t kill your mother.”
The words rumbled from his chest, and I pressed myself closer to the deep, reassuring sound of his absolute certainty.
“That fucker—Gehovany.” He spat my abuser’s name. “He killed your mother.”
He pulled away slightly, releasing my nape to cradle my jaw in his big hand. He tilted my face up to his, so I had no choice but to stare into his eyes. Despite the weak dawn light that barely slipped through the gap in his bedroom curtains, his mesmerizing eyes still seemed to capture the sun, shining warmth down on my chilled body.
“Is that why you left your home?” His hand that was braced behind my shoulders firmed slightly as his muscles tensed. “Because that bastard threatened you? Didn’t the police do anything to protect you?”
“They weren’t able to help me.” Again, I avoided mentioning Gehovany’s criminal activities. After he’d murdered my mother, he’d slipped away and joined one of the most violent cartels in the region. The police couldn’t offer me justice. They wouldn’t pursue him.
“He would’ve come back for me.” I knew it deep in my bones. “As long as I stayed, my family was in danger.”
“They let you set out alone to seek asylum in America?” His low, condemning growl raised my defenses.
“My father never would’ve permitted it if I’d told him what I planned. Despite what I did, despite how I destroyed my family with my selfishness, he still loves me.”
I shook my head as some of my weariness returned, sapping my moment of strength. I continued in a more subdued tone, my voice turning flat as I moved into more recent traumatic memories. “I paid a coyote to take me to America. I’m not sure how far I got before he sold me. One of Carmen Ronaldo’s men saw me and offered a price. The coyote was happy to accept his money. He’d already taken mine, and I had no one to speak in my defense, since I was traveling alone.
“That’s how I ended up working on Carmen’s estate. Her man took me there, after a while.” My skin crawled, and I pressed deeper into Raúl’s warmth. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been with Jorge. Those awful days were a blur of agony and the worst violation.
I stilled, my body and mind shutting down. It was how I’d learned to survive Jorje’s assaults. Before the horrific memories could overtake me, I drifted into a numb, detached state.
Raúl’s fist tangled in my hair, tugging sharply to get my attention. The little sparks of pain grounded me in my current reality, pulling me back into the safety of his arms.
“What’s his name?” he snarled. “The fucker who bought you. What’s his name?”
“It doesn’t matter now,” I said dully. “He’s dead. He died on the night your cartel assaulted Carmen’s estate, just before you captured me. Carmen and Stefano killed him.”
His jaw worked for a few seconds, chewing over words that didn’t leave his lips. Finally, he settled on a curt nod. “Good. It’s good that he’s dead.”
I mirrored his movement, nodding in automatic agreement. Now that I’d unburdened myself of my terrible secrets, I felt utterly drained. My body sank into the soft mattress, and my head settled on Raúl’s chest.
He resumed stroking my hair in a hypnotic rhythm. His low, satisfied hum followed me down into deep, dreamless sleep.
Chapter 16
Raúl
I propped a shoulder against the wall, leaning back while I observed Marisol at my leisure. She stood at the open fridge, fussing over the food I’d had delivered this morning. A bright smile lit up her soft features, making her golden skin almost incandescent.
I studied her in profile, indulging myself in a thorough perusal of her delicious body. As she bent down to inspect the food items on a lower shelf, the lightweight material of her cherry red dress draped over the lush curves of her perfect ass.
The memory of that soft flesh bouncing beneath my punitive hand drew a slightly twisted smile to my lips, and an echo of my lust stirred. Although we hadn’t shared more than a kiss since that rough, savage scene in the woods yesterday afternoon, I felt fully sated in a way I’d never known before.
Judging by the way my cock stiffened when she dipped lower, causing her cleavage to nearly spill over her bodice, I wasn’t anywhere near sated when it came to craving her body. Even if I bent her over the counter and fucked her hard right now, I doubted I’d be satiated.
But staking my claim over her yesterday—utterly subjugating and marking her—had calmed me. For weeks, I’d desired her, but I hadn’t allowed myself to touch her. The completely unfamiliar act of self-denial had chipped away at my sanity every day that I kept her as my protected hostage.