Chapter 23

When I opened my eyes later in the evening, I panicked as Alejandro was no longer next to me. I didn't know how long I had slept for, but I could see the sun setting, it's gorgeous orange light covering all the furniture with a soft glow.

As I got up, Alejandro was coming out of the bathroom. He had clearly showered and found a way to put a pair of beige linen pants and a white linen shirt on himself. I rushed to him as he was wincing with every step he took.

"What did you do?!" I squealed, putting his arm around my neck to provide him support.

"I can't just lie there like this."

"Showers can wait!" I retorted. "No strained efforts, remember? Are you bleeding?"

"No, don't worry about me," he said.

When he sat down on the bed, I lifted his shirt a bit. Yes, of course, he was bleeding a little, and he had gotten the bandage wet. I closed my eyes for a minute, trying to control the urge to slap him back to a fever. I quickly took the bandage off, medicated the wound, and put a fresh, dry bandage on, ignoring his grunts and the wonderful fresh soap scent on his skin. I checked the time on the phone. It was almost seven p.m. Ignoring Alejandro"s slightly frustrated gaze, I grabbed some of his pills and gave him a few to swallow.

"Don't move," I ordered before I left the room.

I heated up the soup, toasted some bread with butter, and brought it to him.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" I asked, watching him eat with a satisfying appetite.

"You need to sleep, Amelia. You were clearly exhausted."

"You should have woken me up so I could have taken you to the bathroom."

"No, I'm fine. I can handle it."

He was back, I accepted, rolling my eyes, but his pride was getting in the way of his recuperation. But he didn't have a fever, and he had a decent appetite, so I couldn't bring myself to scold him for long, even if he deserved it. He smelled great, and it was nice to see him look more normal.

"Did you make this?" He looked impressed.

"I did. My nana taught me how to make it. When she realized I was ordering food all the time in New York, she basically flew there for a month to give me lessons. She knew I didn't enjoy cooking, but she claimed every human needed to have that basic skill. There was no way to argue with that logic."

Alejandro smiled. He didn't give me one of his "you"re a spoiled brat" responses this time.

"It"s delicious," he complimented.

"Thanks."

"I haven't seen you eat," he said with a frown.

"I have," I lied, "in the kitchen."

The truth was that I had completely forgotten to eat. I had a knot in my stomach that didn't seem like it wanted to go away, and it killed my appetite. The idea of swallowing anything right now made me want to throw up.

"I'd rather we eat together next time," he insisted, looking at me with suspicious eyes.

I ignored him and brought the dishes back to the kitchen when he was done. I filled two big glasses with water, putting one in my room and bringing him the other.

"You look tired, Amelia. You need to sleep. I am fine, and I can take care of myself."

I was hurt to have my assistance be so aggressively rejected.

"Fine. I can see that you feel much better," I said.

"Yes, you saved my life. And I won"t let you put your health in danger for mine any further," he insisted.

I looked away flushed, trying to hide from his gaze.

"Okay, I will go to bed in the bedroom next door to you. Please, if you need anything, wake me up."

"You can sleep here," he offered.

"I think it's best if I sleep there," I said, not wanting to be tempted. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he replied.

I exited his room as fast as I could, realizing I was feeling an overwhelming need to feel his warmth over my skin. I desperately wanted to lock my door, but I had to leave it unlocked in case he needed me.

Something told me that I should run away as far and as fast as possible before it was too late, before he stole my heart.

I got into bed, but I couldn't sleep. I was worried about him and had millions of questions making their way back to my now less-exhausted self. Why would a cop try to kill me? Why was Alejandro literally protecting me with his life? Where was my stepfather in all this? This place might be my opportunity to escape. But nothing mattered, not even my freedom, until he was fully recovered.

Later in the night, after tossing and turning in bed for hours, I decided to go check on him. I opened the door very quietly, got to his side, and gently touched his forehead. He was okay. There was no way I was going to sleep if I didn't have my eyes on him at all times, I admitted to myself. So I put my pride aside, went to his closet, and looked for the most pajama-like clothing that I could find, which amounted to gym shorts. I changed and, ignoring my pounding heart, got in bed with the devil.

The sunlight was coming through the curtains, gently warming up the room when I woke up. Alejandro was peacefully sleeping next to me, still with no fever. I knew he was a bit sedated, because one of the medications the doctor prescribed was meant to calm him down and get him to sleep, and it was doing him a lot of good. I spent the day making sure he ate, took his medication, and stayed hydrated, taking his temperature every two hours.

I dared to walk outside of the house when he was asleep, my bare feet enjoying the feeling of the warm, soft sand for an hour, relishing the saltwater breeze caressing my skin.

The ocean was quite tempting, but I didn't have the appropriate attire to take a dip. I roamed the house a little more when I got back inside, happy to have found a TV in the living room. So, for the first time in weeks, I managed to curl up on a couch with chips to watch a telenovela as Alejandro slept away in peace.

I had too much time to think, but the TV helped keep my thoughts occupied. The last thing I wanted to do was face my feelings or what was to come.

I realized that there was a phone upstairs—a phone I had used before and could use again—and yet there I was, ignoring a golden opportunity, enjoying the amenities of my captor's beach house while tending to his wounds—wounds he had gotten while using his body as a literal shield to protect me.

There was so much to process there that I didn't know where to start. Why wasn't I calling anyone for help? I could call Iris, give her the address. Alejandro was hurt, and there were no guards with him. But I wasn't going to do anything. I knew that. At least not until I was sure Alejandro was going to be okay. Only then could I make an attempt to go back to my life—whatever was left of it.

The idea did not fill me with as much drive or excitement as it should have. If I didn't do something while I had a chance, though, I might be stuck in Mexico forever, living a life that wasn't mine.

For some reason, even after the horrible attack just a few days ago, that possibility was no longer as scary as it should have been. I missed my life, my friends, Martha, and maybe even George, but here, I was unexpectedly finding something I didn't know I needed, something I didn't think existed, and I didn't know what to do with that realization.

Around ten p.m., I went back up to check on Alejandro as I had done all day. He wasn't sleeping anymore as he had for most of the day; he was trying to get up. I ran to him, attempting to push him back on the bed.

"I do need to use the bathroom once in a while, you know," he protested angrily.

"That doesn't mean I can't help."

I helped him get up and walked with him to the bathroom door. I could tell that his strength was coming back. He walked faster and stood taller, but he needed at least a few more days, according to the doctor, to let his body heal.

Alejandro gave me a death stare when I tried to follow him to the bathroom, and he closed the door in my face.

I found him so frustrating, but I understood. I patiently waited for him, but he didn't let me walk him back to the bed.

I helped him change his bandages, take his pain medication, and finally lie in bed. As I was about to let him sleep, Alejandro grabbed my hand in his and forced me to sit down by his side on the bed.

"Why are you taking such good care of me?"

As I looked into those already sleepy eyes, my stomach tensed. I was tempted to say out loud what I hadn't even admitted to myself yet, but I couldn't bring myself to.

"It would be quite boring around here without you."

Alejandro laughed, that guttural honest laugh that always made me feel so whole, his gaze creating a blanket of warmth all around me.

"That's all?" he insisted, searching my eyes. I didn't understand what for.

"Uh…yes," I answered, looking away, unable to handle the intensity of what I felt. "Well, I am going to go get some sleep," I announced as I started to get up.

"No," he said, refusing to let go of my hand. "Please, stay with me," he whispered, his tone deepened.

My heart swelled, threatening to swallow me whole. I couldn't let his words get to me; I just couldn't.

I tried to leave again, but he wasn't letting me go, his thumb rubbing my wrist. I could see that he was going to fall asleep any minute, the drugs already taking effect. So, I decided to stay for a bit, enjoying the feeling of my hand in his, waiting for him to drift away for a few hours.

It was six a.m. when I opened my eyes and realized I had slept in his bed—again. He, thankfully, seemed unaware. I snuck back into my room to shower, change, and continue sleeping since I was too exhausted to do anything else.

The day started with the sound of the waves calling to me and the sun warming my arm. I lazily opened my eyes. The last few nights had been a bit better, with me relaxing a bit at seeing Alejandro making progress, his wound healing, and thus being able to fall asleep for close to full nights in my room.

That morning, though, I found myself lying in Alejandro's arms, perfectly nestled, my head resting on his chest, his hand possessively going around my waist, holding me close. A moan left my lips, as I decided to embrace the perfect comfort I felt, until I realized that he was awake, holding his phone with his left hand. I jerked back, lifting onto my arm. Alejandro smiled the most sensually teasing morning smile I had ever seen on him.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his eyebrows raised.

My cheeks flushed lightly. I turned away and quickly got off the bed. Without a word, I went back to my room. I could smell him on me, my senses prickling, my body getting aroused. How did I end up in his arms? But I couldn't help smiling when I remembered the feeling of his warm skin against mine.

I showered but had to wear one of the shirts I had stolen from him again with my now worn jeans. When I was done, I went to see him. He was sitting in front of the desk in his room with a notepad, talking on the phone. I almost screamed at him because he wasn't in bed, but I knew it would be futile. I got closer and stared at him until he lifted his head up.

"Te llamo luego," he said before hanging up the phone.

He looked refreshed. He had clearly showered and changed his clothes, going for a pair of white pants and a light-blue shirt with rolled up sleeves. He still looked rugged with his beard unshaven, giving him a bit of a wild-man look that made my stomach tense and my hair raise.

Every inch of his body looked like fulfilling sex to me, my mind drifting to the forbidden. I shook my head to stop myself from continuing down that path.

"Let me see," I said, lifting the right side of his shirt. His bandage looked new.

"You changed it?"

"Yes, and before you ask, I took the medication this morning, except for the one that makes me sleep."

Feeling guilty, I rolled my eyes. Alejandro got up and grabbed my face in his hands. Before I could object, he kissed me sweetly but possessively. His kiss was slow and strong, surprising me with the intensity and overwhelming emotions it was raising in me.

"Thank you for saving my life," he said.

"You saved mine," I whispered, eyes slightly closed, breathing him in.

"I would never forgive myself if something happened to you." His guttural tone made me tremble.

I kissed him back, wrapping my arms around his neck. I pressed myself against him, enjoying the feeling of melting in his embrace. He deepened the kiss––his tongue, hot and wet, getting more and more demanding.

I could feel his erection, long and strong against me.

And I wanted it.

I wanted to stroke it, lick it. I wanted him to slide inside of me so badly I felt desperate for it.

I heard Alejandro slightly wince, and I leaned back a bit.

"Sorry."

"Don't be,"" he muttered, pulling me back to him, possessively grabbing my lips again, parting them with his impatient tongue. Alejandro's cell phone rang.

"Damn it," he grunted against my lips. I was grateful for the interruption to compose myself, even with all the pent-up frustration. If he kept going, I wouldn't have been able to stop him. A girl could only take so much, though. Alejandro answered the phone, and it sounded like it was Marcos giving him an update. I took advantage of this distraction to leave him alone.