“You good, mariposita?”
A little sigh slips past her lips as she leans into me, locking her arms around my middle. “You smell so good.” She presses her face into my chest and breathes in deeply. “Like after a storm and sweaty sex.”
“Ay Dios mio,” I mutter under my breath, trying to stop her roaming hands.
Dipshit number three chuckles. “Looks like our good time just became yours, man.”
Jason elbows his friend, but he keeps talking.
“You gonna baby her like you do our trucks? Or maybe be a little more rou—”
I snap. Well, more accurately, his head snaps back after my fist connects with his jaw. “Tu verga caida pedazo de mierda!” I roar, winding my arm back to hit him again.
“What the fuck?” Cliff shouts, stepping up to me with his chest bowed out, like I won’t knock his ass out, too.
I continue going off, switching between Spanish and English as my emotions get the better of me.
“Jesus Christ, man!” Jason yells, putting himself between me and his friends, knowing good and well I won’t lay a hand on him. “Chill the fuck out and speak fucking English. You’re in America.”
I twist my head down and to the side until my neck cracks. “You want to know what I was saying?”
Seraphine wiggles in my arms, giggling to herself. “So hot, always speak Spanish.”
Ignoring her, I plow straight ahead. “I said you and your friends are pathetic, limp-dicked pieces of shit. You gotta drug a girl to get some action? Pathetic.”
“Now hold on,” Jason says, sounding just like his smooth-talking judge father. “Where on earth did you get the notion that we drugged her? Seems more likely she overindulged, doesn’t it? And take a look at her outfit. Dressed like that, she’s asking for trouble.” He clicks his tongue at me. “If anything, you should thank us for taking such good care of your girl. God only knows what trouble might have befallen her without us.”
While unspoken, the threat in his words is clear. If I lay a finger on him, he’ll call his dad. If I report him and his friends to the authorities, it’ll be my word against his—and the word of tatted-up, brown-skinned mechanic against that of a college-educated, richer than God white boy with a judge for a dad… yeah, the math isn’t too hard.
“Thanks, then.” I grind out the words, wishing like hell I could knock his punk-ass out without a hefty fine and probable jail sentence. “We’ll be on our way.”
I steer Seraphine away from the crowd of onlookers, catching Desi’s eye as we pass her. She nods before she and her group of friends continue on their way.
By the time we make it to the parking lot, Seraphine’s practically rubbing her body against mine like a cat in heat, mumbling God knows what under her breath.
“Did you drive here?” I ask, my voice harsher than I intended.
She releases me from her hold and spins to face me. Her eyes are the size of saucers, and her lips are working a mile a minute. Her lips part as if to answer me, but instead a soft sigh escapes her lips and she reaches a hand up to rub at the scruff on my face.
Gently, I knock her hand away and make a mental note to get her something to chew on so she doesn’t eat her cheeks raw.
“Seraphine, did you drive here?”
She shakes her head back and forth lazily before falling face-first into my chest.
“Let’s get you inside,” I murmur, moving her back to an upright position.
“No, let’s get you inside… me.” Her voice is a lazy drawl that sends shivers up my spine—and not the good kind. To hear her talk like this is unnerving, and the thought of how this night could’ve have ended without Desi’s intervention is downright terrifying.
“Inside the car, mariposita, the car.”
I unlock my truck with my free hand and swing open the passenger side door. She squeals as I pluck her off the ground and swing her up into the cab. “Ooh, dizzy.” She flings herself against the seatback.
“You good?” Despite the flush in her cheeks, she’s looking a little green around the gills.
“Mmm-nun-uh,” she mumbles before buckling over and puking all over my floorboard.
I do my best to smooth her hair away from her face, whispering words of comfort to her, all the while trying not to think about what it’ll take to get the stench of her vomit out of my ride.
After one final heave, Seraphine rights herself, wiping the back of her hand over her mouth as she sits up. “Oh, wow.” She smacks her lips. “That was gross—oh! Mateo, shit. Sorry. About your truck. And stuff.”
She’s talking a mile a minute now.
“Feel better?”
“Soooo much. Like really good. Great.”
It’s going to be a long fucking night is all I can think as I lean into the cab to pull her seat belt across her, trying like hell not to gag. “Good. Let’s get outta here.”
“Where are we going?” she asks, bouncing in the seat like a small child.
“Loca,” I mutter, shaking my head as I close her door and round the front of the truck to the driver’s side.
Chapter Four
Seraphine
“Wake up, mariposita,” a deep voice whispers in my ear, pulling me away from the most fucked-up dream I’ve had in a while—it involved the fair, frat boys, and Mateo—oh, shit.
I try to ask why he’s in my bed, but nothing more than a croak comes out as pain robs me of my ability to speak.
“Take your time,” he says from his spot beside me.
I roll my lips inward as I let saliva pool in my mouth. The pain is reminiscent of adjusting to braces, only worse. Thankfully, after a few beats, I’m able to get my voice to work, even if it does come out raspy and raw. “Why are you in my bed?”
“I’m not,” he says, grinning. “You’re in mine.”
It’s then I notice the unfamiliar surroundings. Instead of being in my double bed, cocooned in my fluffy white duvet, I’m sprawled out in the middle of a plush, king-sized bed, tucked under the softest gray blanket to ever exist.
“Oh, God. It wasn’t a dream?” It’s a stupid question, because there’s certainly no other reason for me to find myself waking up anywhere near Mateo, much less in his bed.
A quick peek beneath the covers confirms my fears—I’m clad in a pair of should-never-see-the-light-of-day yoga shorts and a threadbare T-shirt, sans bra. Which means, not only has Mateo seen me in this getup, but so has most of the damn town.
“What wasn’t?”
I groan and pull one of the spare pillows over my heated cheeks to hide my shame. “Everything. All of it.”
He pulls my fluffy shield away and gently turns my face toward him. “How do you feel? I’ve got water and Tylenol for you on the nightstand and coffee in the kitchen.”
“Like I got hit by a bus…” I try to recall the details of last night, but I can only grasp bits and pieces. “Or made a lot of bad decisions.”
“Eh.” He shrugs. “Maybe a little bit of both, you know, if you consider going out and getting drugged being hit by a bus.”