“You’re sleeping with us from now on.” He stepped into her space and pressed his lips to hers. A small touch with a significant message. “The moment we kissed you, you became ours. Our girl. Our responsibility. Ours to protect.”
Her eyes softened, and she slipped her hands into her back pockets. “That’s a nice thing to say.” She turned her face away, her voice thready. “It would really suck if you guys are playing me.”
“That goes both ways.”
The shower sounded around the corner. In a few seconds, he would rest his eyes on Martin’s naked body in a way he’d never been able to before.
Focus, Ricardo.
She raised her chin and gave him direct eye contact. “Do you have an alliance with another cartel or gang?”
The Freedom Fighters weren’t just aligned with the Restrepo Cartel. They were married to it, literally, by way of their leader, Camila Dias-Restrepo.
A pang of guilt pinched his stomach. He hated keeping secrets from her, but one thing he wouldn’t do was fill her head with lies.
“I can feed you reassuring words.” He hooked his thumbs under the front of his waistband, deliberately keeping his hands to himself. “I can kiss you until you melt. Touch you until you scream my name. Or God’s name. Same thing.” He winked. “But I can’t force you to trust me. That requires a valiant act of heroism, and I’m fresh out of those at the moment.” He shrugged. “So this—you and me and Martin—this trust we need to build between us? It’s going to take time. You know what they say in prison?”
“We have nothing but time.”
She believed they had at least three years together. It broke his fucking heart.
“Put your ass where I can see you.” He smacked a kiss on her mouth. “And don’t move.”
She tried to shape those fuckable lips into a scowl, but a smile broke through. “What am I going to do with you?”
He pulled off his shirt and stared down at the fly of his jeans. “You can start with—”
“Stop right there.” She held up a hand and stepped to the spot he’d directed her.
“I was going to say…” He tossed his shirt at her. “Bury your nose in that and get used to my scent. You’re going to be covered in it from now on.”
“Overly optimistic, aren’t you?”
“Confident, querida.” He approached the showers, and his breath ran away from him.
Martin stood under the spray of water, his palms flat against the wall in front of him and defined arms bracing his upper body.
Rivers of water followed the carved grooves in his torso and trickled over the flanks of his tight ass.
“I can feel you staring.” Martin lifted his head.
Their gazes collided, and he had to remind himself to breathe.
Distractions were out of the question. No flirty eye contact. No thinking about hand jobs in the bathroom. Even at three in the morning, this was a dangerous place for a man to get caught with his pants down.
He glanced back at Tula.
She stood stiffly against the wall, her body angled slightly away. With her eyes on the door, she held his wadded shirt against her chest.
If anything happened to her…
He couldn’t let his mind go there.
Stripping his clothes, he joined Martin under the warm spray.
A bar of soap served as shampoo and body wash. He lathered and rinsed quickly, trying his damnedest to ignore the heated glances from the man beside him.
His cock, however, ate up the attention, swelling with blood and rising toward his abs.
“Your timing sucks.” He scrubbed his hands over his whiskered face. “You’ve had years to look, man.”
“I did look. I devoured every inch of you when you weren’t paying attention.”
His dick throbbed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to lead you on.” Martin shifted to stand in front of him, keeping Tula in their periphery. “But now… I don’t know. The rules are different here.”
The rules changed because of a beautiful woman. Between her and the kiss she dared them to share, there was no turning back.
“Finish up.” Martin leaned closer and put his mouth at Ricky’s ear. “And keep your hands off your cock.”
Martin slammed a palm against Ricky’s ass, echoing a smack through the room and shooting shockwaves through his body.
“Killing me,” he muttered and finished the shower in record time.
Back in their cell, he lit the scented candle to battle the sewage smell and shut off the light.
The flame cast shadows over her and Martin, where they lay diagonally across the two mattresses. She burrowed into the den of Martin’s body, her arms around him, and her eyes already closed in sleep.
Crawling in behind her, Ricky folded an arm around her waist and rested his hand against Martin’s chest.
Those glittering green eyes found him across the space above her head. Hooded and warm, they looked content, happy even.