I knew that for the rest of my life, the image of the most perfect chick on the planet, undressing just for me, would be forever branded on my brain.
Shucking the brown boots, Aliyana then hooked her fingers on the sides of her panties and slowly pushed them down her legs. Once completely naked, she stepped toward me, holding out her hand. Putting my palm in hers, and trusting someone completely for the first time ever, I stood.
Aliyana looked up at me through heavy eyelids, releasing my hand, only to drop them to my already-undone jeans. Putting her palms on my chest, she ran her fingers down my abs, over my stomach and hooked her fingers into my waistband. Slowly, Aliyana pulled down my jeans until they joined her clothes on the floor.
Retaking my hand, she pulled back the sheet of the bed and crawled in, guiding me to follow. I did it without question. Shit. I’d follow this chick anywhere.
As I lay down facing Aliyana, she squeezed my hand and cast me a nervous smile.
“Shit, Aliyana,” I said, bringing our joined hands to my lips.
“You’re Axel Carillo,” she whispered in disbelief, making my lips freeze on the soft skin on the back of her hand. “I’m not supposed to want you…” she said shakily, and I felt my heart sink.
Aliyana must have read something on my face, because she shuffled closer until our bodies were flush and we shared the same air. “...But I can’t help it. You’re not the man everyone says you are… are you?”
Feeling my heartbeat pick up speed, I combed back the hair from her face and said, “I’m exactly who they think I am.”
Aliyana swallowed, a droplet of sweat from our fuck rolling down her olive-skinned slim neck. “No… you’re punishing yourself for the actions you desperately took to save your family, not embracing the good man you are now.” My stomach clenched at the sincere belief she had in me and I closed my eyes.
Aliyana’s hand pressed on my cheek. “Look at me,” she urged. When I didn’t do as she wanted, she rolled me onto my back, her tits pressing against my chest. “Axel, look at me,” she pushed harder.
Reluctantly opening my eyes, Aliyana’s searching gaze was assessing my face. “Answer this,” she said. I waited for her question. “Did you take that coke you bought tonight?”
My eyebrows furrowed and I tried to turn away, but her hands on my face refused to budge. “Answer me,” she insisted. “Did you take it?”
My jaw clenched, but seeing she wasn’t gonna drop it, I rasped. “No, I didn’t. You fucking happy?”
The smile that then followed my reluctant confession floored me. Gently holding her wrists, I added, “But if you hadn’t shown up, I would’ve.”
That smiled disappeared and her eyes glanced away. “I don’t believe you would have,” she disagreed.
“You don’t know me as well as you think then, do you?”
Aliyana’s face melted into a sad expression and she nodded, moving her finger to run over my scowl. “I do. Tell me,” she watched as her finger traced the edges of my beard, “where did you get it? The coke?”
Narrowing my eyes, I shrugged and said, “Some street crew I saw near a liquor store.”
Aliyana’s eyes flared for a second, before she looked all sad again.
“What?” I snapped. I fucking hated pity. Hatred I could deal with, pity, I couldn’t fucking stand.
“A street crew?” she questioned, “Like the Heighters?”
My muscles tensed. “So if it was? Fuck! Why you asking anyway?”
“Axel,” she said softly, running her finger over my crucifix… the crucifix that used to be my stidda. I used to be so damn proud of that black star tattoo on my left cheek, proud that my crew had my loyalty, my trust.
“You were hurt after the game… after Levi’s public rejection… after mine…” her expression fell at that, a guilty expression on her face, “and you ran back to the only thing you know. To the only life you’ve ever lived here on the outside.”
My breathing paused at how right she read me. She always had, ever since the moment she first saw my art.
“Axel?” she pushed, waiting for my reply.
Dropping my gaze to her pink painted fingernails, I confessed, “I don’t know how to do it…”
“Do what, querido?” Ally blushed as she called me that. I had no idea what she’d said, but I’d sure as fuck liked the way it sounded. It sounded like a term of endearment… it sounded as though she cared. Ain’t no woman ever give a shit about me before.