by Cora Kenborn
“If you wanted my attention, aim a little lower, mi amor.” His voice sounded rough as he ran a palm over my cheek.
“I thought you were asleep.”
The darkness in his gaze made me shiver. Sliding his hand down my arm, he entwined our hands and placed them over the growing swell of his erection. “I haven’t touched my wife in over twenty-four hours. What do you think?”
The smile in his eyes held me prisoner. They weren’t hardened or shrouded in secrets. Quite the opposite. As they roamed over every inch of my face, I lost myself in their raw honesty. When I gazed into them, all I saw was the love I’d waited four years to reclaim.
Our lips met in a kiss both tender and combustible. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he pulled my legs until I straddled him, and I deepened the kiss. The sheet slipped down his thighs, his cock already hard against my ass. In just a few touches, slickness had built between my legs, but that wasn’t what this was about.
This was about a promise. This is my need to prove to him that he could walk beside me in his world as my husband—not in front of me as my shield.
“Leighton.” He groaned low and primitive as I raised my hips and slowly guided him inside me. It was instinctive for Mateo to take control—to grasp my hips and thrust upward until my body obeyed him. But this time, he held onto my hips, calling out my name through thinly held restraint as I slowly rode him. I gripped his chest as a spark lit in my stomach and ignited into an out of control flame.
Mateo’s face contorted, and I knew he felt it too. We were no longer Leighton and Mateo. We were a force in this world—one no one could ever break again.
“I love you, Matty,” I whispered as I lowered onto him one last time and splintered apart.
My release prompted his, and he gritted his teeth through a guttural groan. Neither of us moved. We stared at each other with silent words not needing to be vocalized.
Except for four.
“Te amo, Star,” he said, weaving his hands through my hair and bringing my lips to his. “Siempre.”
I love you, Star. Forever.
EPILOGUE TWO
Leighton
Mexico City, Mexico
Four Months Later
“Don’t go too far,” Mateo called out as Stella followed a group of older children around the grounds of Val’s estate.
“Sí, papá ,” she called over her shoulder.
“You know, English is her first language,” I said, sipping my fourth margarita.
Mateo laughed, not taking his eyes off her as she struggled to keep up with the herd of kids. “Not anymore.”
Sixteen weeks ago, Santiago Nash Carrera came into the world upside down and backward. Ironically, Eden found it hilarious while Val continuously threatened the entire hospital with slow and torturous deaths during her C-section.
Eight weeks ago, Eden argued like a seasoned litigator when Val postponed Santi’s traditional baptismal celebration. He’d read an article online about C-section recovery and swore she needed more time to heal. I had to hand it to her; she put up a good fight, but logic didn’t stand a chance against the unshakable trifecta of a cartel boss, overprotective husband, and new father. Eventually, she gave in, and as Santi’s madrina, I helped her plan a new party from scratch.
Speaking of parties...
When Mateo told me that traditional Mexican baptisms were all-night parties, he wasn’t kidding. By midnight, my feet hurt, and I was half-drunk. Even though the crowd had thinned out a little, Val and Mateo’s trusted lieutenants and their families still roamed the grounds of the Carrera estate toasting to Santi, Val, Eden, the cartel, themselves, the decorations, their shoes...hell, a few of them were so drunk they were chugging cups of salsa, swearing it was sangria.
“So, I was thinking,” he said, taking my hand in his, “we’ve been in Mexico for seven months now. Stella seems to love it here, and I think she’s used to the idea that I’m her father.”
I nodded. “Kids are resilient.”
“She’s still young, Leighton. If we did it now, I don’t think she’d remember anything different.”
His statement caught me off guard, and I stared at the determination in his eyes. “What are you getting at?”
“Her name.” Lifting our joined hands, he motioned to where Stella still played. “She isn’t a Harcourt, and now you aren’t either. It doesn’t make any sense for her to have a different last name.”
“You want to change her name to Estella Cortes?”
“Yes, I do.” He pushed his shoulders back and inhaled, preparing for a fight, but my answer came without hesitation.
“I agree. Let’s do it.”
The shock on his face was priceless. “That’s it? No arguing?”
“Nah.” I grinned. “I’m trying on compromise for size. It’s a tight fit, but I’ll see how it goes.”
We stood in silence as Stella ran around giggling. After a few moments, Mateo wrapped his arm around me and pulled me close.
“Do you miss home, Mrs. Cortes?”
Home. It’d been a four-letter word to me for so long—a line in the sand drawn by betrayal, faded with time, and grayed with resentment. Until one man changed everything.
Tilting my head back, I gazed at the thousands of stars blanketing the Mexican sky. “Not anymore.” I smiled. “He came back for me.”
Drawn Blue Lines
(Carrera Cartel 3)
Don’t miss release date announcements about Drawn Blue Lines, the explosive conclusion to the Carrera Cartel Trilogy!
Justice is in the eye of the beholder
Broken by his choices and betrayed by his family, Brody Harcourt turned his back on the lawful justice he swore to uphold in favor of a darker version he pledged to defend.
But his loyalty will be put to the test.
Because some ghosts don’t stay dead for long.
And others demand blood for a secret that cost them everything.
Add it to your Goodreads TBR:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/38347096-drawn-blue-lines
Acknowledgments
Crystal, to say I couldn’t have done this without you would be an understatement. After sixty-three hours of phone calls and eight plot changes, thank you for talking me away from the ledge instead of pushing me off it. I owe you a cheeseburger. I have a coupon, you know.
A huge apology to my family for being MIA the last three months. In case you wondered, I was upstairs the whole time. Thanks to whoever brought me water, Cheetos, and Febreze.
Thanks to my amazing beta team who understood my perpetual lateness and loved me anyway: Joy, Tami, Ginger, Treena, Dani, Angie, Titti, Jamie, Stormy, and Crystal.
Ginger, thank you for correcting all my Google Translate induced Spanish and for making Mateo and Val sound authentic. I hope you at least got a good laugh out of my sad attempts.
Mitzi Carroll, my wonder woman editor, I adore you. Thanks for putting up with my constant stream of “I need more time” PMs.
Congrats to Amanda Nicholson for allowing me to create a character based on her for this story. I’d totally drink nine shots with her.
I couldn’t have managed half of this workload without the help and professionalism of Heather Roberts with L. Woods PR. As I’ve told you, you are a wizard! Thank you.
Much thanks to KA for your help and advice, and Bite Me Graphic Design for the beautiful cover and for patiently putting up with my 20th cover model change.
Thank you to Adam Shook for the assistance on the artwork for the cover model.
As always, mad love to my reader group, Cora & KA’s Twisted Alpha Addicts and my street team, Cora’s Dark Angels for your daily laughs, love, and friendship.
Lastly, to all the readers and bloggers, thank you for your time reading and supporting this series. I appreciate every one of you.
About Cora Kenborn
International bestselling author Cora Kenborn writes twisted romances about damaged bad boys and feisty heroines. She promises her readers
a happily ever after, although she may or may not take them on an emotional rollercoaster before giving it to them.
(Okay, she totally will.)
A Southern girl from North Carolina, Cora says "y'all" way too much and has a lifelong addiction to sweet tea. She refuses to "adult" without coffee, thinks pajamas are acceptable daywear, and considers note-taking during true crime shows to be perfectly normal. On the rare occasion that Cora has free time, she spends it avoiding laundry and convincing her family that Hot Pockets are an acceptable dinner.
Oh, and autocorrect thinks she's obsessed with ducks.
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Also by Cora Kenborn
Carrera Cartel Series
(Dark Romantic Suspense)
Blurred Red Lines
Faded Gray Lines
Drawn Blue Lines (coming soon)
Lords of Lyre Duet
(Rock Star Romantic Suspense)
Fame and Obsession
Fame and Secrets
Standalones
Shallow
Unsupervised
Blacklisted (Craving: Bad Anthology)
Swamp Bottom Novella Series
(Romantic Comedy)
Front Porches and Funerals
Voodoo and Vodka
Hook-ups and Hang-ups
Blue Lights and Boatmen
Pink Lines and Panic
Divorce and Denial
Warrants and Onesies
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