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Illicit Desire Page 13


  The doors start to slide closed, and a slim hand stops them. I stare, keeping my face impassive as Carlita Roja steps onto the elevator with me. As the doors glide shut, and the elevator glides upward, we study each other.

  She is exotic and gorgeous, with long black hair, flawless skin, and a dress that manages to be glamorous even in a fucking elevator. She’s watching me like I’m a bug, and not a very impressive one at that.

  “So you are the pretty, new distraction,” she says, pursing her lips.

  “You were shown out,” I answer softly. “He doesn’t want you here.”

  Carlita laughs, but her eyes glitter with anger. “Don’t think to tell me what Raphael wants. I taught him the meaning of the word.”

  I try to keep the surprise from my face, but her slow smile says I don’t.

  “You know this building bears my name. Why do you suppose that is, little puta?” She leans in to me. “Because he loves me. Because he will always love me.”

  I smile, tight and cool. “And yet, he has given me his protection. I’m the one he’s fucking. And you? Are married to the man he doesn’t trust.”

  Fury can make the most beautiful women in the world ugly. Her eyes narrow, her features twisting in scorn. “Stupid carbona. He may fuck you and flaunt you in front of the papers. But you mean nothing to him if he hasn’t told you the truth about me.”

  I slap her. A ringing noise that fills the tiny elevator, and makes my stomach drop with unexpected nerves. Carlita hisses, her entire body tensing forward.

  But she doesn’t touch me. The elevator slows to a stop and the doors glide open. The bitch steps off. She throws me one last look, loathing in her eyes. “Enjoy it, puta. He will be mine again.”

  I flip her the bird, a silent fuck you, as the doors close.

  The elevator still rings with her voice, her insinuations that hold too much conviction and truth for my liking. I shiver, trying to shake the words, and take a breath as the elevator doors open on the executive floor. Raphael is waiting for me, his face tense and frowning. When he sees me, a smile so relieved and hopeful breaks across his face. It’s stunning, and I love it—love seeing him like this, open and vulnerable, the way I never see him anywhere else. He catches me against him, burying his nose in my hair. I stroke his back, and press my lips against his neck.

  “I didn’t think you’d come back,” he admits, his voice hoarse. I don’t say that I wasn’t sure I would. I don’t say I’m not sure I’ll stay. I just kiss him and pull back.

  We’re sitting on his couch. His hand is in my hair, toying with the short strands while the other holds me against him. I’ve lost track of how often he’s made me come, and where.

  I haven’t lost track of the conversation I had with Carlita.

  “Why did you name the Spanish Lady after her?”

  His hand in my hair stills. I twist to look up at him. Raphael is staring into space, vacantly. “Raphael?”

  “Do we have to do this, bonita?”

  The fact that he doesn’t want to says volumes. I sit up, tugging the blanket over me. I wish, suddenly, that I had bothered to put on something other than my panties and bra before having this conversation.

  “You told me you run a drug cartel, Raphael. Why can’t you tell me who she is?”

  “Why does it matter? She’s my past.”

  “She doesn’t seem to understand that.”

  He goes still, staring at me. “What happened?”

  “She cornered me in the elevator,” I snap, “Told me that she was your one true love, that you were using me. That this building was for her. It’s fucking named after her. How can I believe anything else?”

  “Cora,” he starts to say.

  “Tell me the truth, Raphael. Who the fuck is she?”

  “My ex-fiancée. She’s my ex-fiancée.”

  I jerk to my feet, pacing away. “Does she realize she’s married to someone else?”

  He’s quiet, and I freeze, turning to him. There’s something in his eyes that makes me nervous and I whisper, “Raphael. Explain this, or I’ll walk out right now and you’ll never see me again.”

  “You will anyway, bonita.”

  He runs a hand through his hair. “She went to Jorge because I told her to. We fought—she wanted to be useful and involved in the cartel. I told her she couldn’t. That women didn’t have that place in my world. And she got furious, refused to speak to me. She hated being sidelined like that. She ignored me and froze me out, for weeks. One night, after she refused sex again, I told her that if she couldn’t fuck me, she should use her pussy to bring something to the cartel.”

  My head spins and I can’t breathe. Knowing that he was with someone besides me was fine—in theory. Hearing about it—that hurts like fucking hell.

  “She was gone the next day. She and my sister both—they went to Columbia and seduced their way into the cartel.”

  I sway, and he steps toward me sharply. I shake my head, a hand up. I can’t do this. Can’t hear it and have him touch me. “Is she dead?” I demand.

  His face spasms and I feel tears threatening. He didn’t lie to me, not about that. “I don’t know,” he admits.

  “And Carlita?” I demand, my voice going shrill.

  “Carlita is my fucking past. I don’t want her—I’m not with her. I’m with you, dammit.”

  My eyes narrow, and I shake my head. “No. You’re not.”

  He catches me before I can escape to the staircase. “Don’t do this, Cora. Don’t run from me.”

  “You lied to me, you bastard. And that psychotic bitch thinks you want her. How safe do you think I’ll be when she decides she’s done sharing your bed with me?” I rip away from him, and stare, blinking back tears. “You painted a fucking target on my back, for Graham, and the Rojas, and every other asshole who has a beef with you.”

  “I can protect you,” he grits out, and I laugh. His face shifts, from the pleading I don’t trust, to rage, before it goes blank. He lets me go.

  And I run from him, my mind spinning.

  He doesn’t try to stop me again.

  Chapter 19

  Raphael

  I CAN’T WATCH HER GO, and I can’t look away. She runs down the stairs, and slams into the door. I hear a startled voice—Miguel, calling her name, as she vanishes into my office. The door bangs open, and then closed. And she’s gone.

  She’s gone.

  “Jefe?”

  I take a step, and almost fall. She’s gone.

  “Raphael, what the fuck is happening?”

  “Cora found out about Carlita,” I say, numbly. “She left.”

  He curses, low and vicious, and it snaps my attention to him, breaking my daze. “What?”

  He holds out the phone, and I stare at the video. “We spotted him this morning.”

  The man is walking through Miami International. He is instantly recognizable, despite the lines around his eyes and the age that has warped his face. Messy dark hair, piercing eyes. Too knowing and predatory.

  “She can’t leave, Jefe.” Miguel murmurs.

  He’s right. She can’t—because Graham is in Miami.

  Find out what’s next for Raphael and Cora in

  Illicit Promise coming early 2015

  Acknowledgments

  Some books are easy to write. And some—aren’t. This one wasn’t. So a big hug to everyone who listened to me whine while I wrote this and cuss at Raphael and Cora.

  Special shout outs and cookies to :

  The Indie Ignites for keeping me laughing and always encouraging me.

  For Mel who never bats an eye when I say I don’t know what I want. Just. Sexy. And still, she manages to give me a gorgeous cover.

  Jessica Estep—who didn’t throttle me when I told I wanted to write this under a pen name, and Kelly who always keeps me on track.

  For my mom, who heard the synopsis first and didn’t complain about me writing another sexy book.

  For Bri whose edit notes kept me giggl
ing, and also made the story so much stonger.

  Big BIG hugs, and a bottle of tequila go to JC Emery for talking me through making this book pretty, and who kept telling me I’d get there—even when I completely blew my deadline.

  Aj, for keeping me writing, for reading when I was pretty sure it all sucked, and for distracting me when I needed a break.

  And always, the biggest hugs and kisses to my family. Y’all are the best. I love you ghost.

  And READERS !!! Thank you so much for picking up this little book. I hope you love Cora and Raphael as much as I do !

  About the Author :

  Taylor Michael is the pen name for Nazarea Andrews. She still likes chocolate, and tequila, and scenes a little too steamy for her children. She likes the beach and good books, and loves hearing from her readers. You can find her on Twitter @Taylor_M_Author