Update to The Billionaire's Prince: June, Day 7
"Faster," Roxanne urged, gripping Mateo's arm.
Mateo bared down and went faster.
"Harder," she demanded.
He whipped his head to look at her. "How much harder do you think I can push?"
"Put some muscle behind it, Principe," she ordered. She gave a thump to the ancient dashboard. "Why are you driving anyway?"
Mateo jammed the pedal down on the dirty mat, making the Bronco squeal around a rusted Toyota Tercel that honked its horn at him. "Because you barely know your own name before coffee," he said as he spotted the top of the Freedom Medical Center over the trees. "And you can afford to bail me out of jail when I get arrested for breaking the sound barrier."
Father Juan was awake and responsive.
Roxanne's phone had jarred them upright with the news this morning. They'd been dead to the world in their dark womb of a cheap motel room, as exhausted by the week's tension as they were by yesterday's revolutionary lovemaking, a lovemaking interrupted only when pizza was delivered at sunset and sleep dragged them down to its depths.
As Mateo flew over the sun-soaked small town streets, the blue Kansas sky stretching out all around them and Roxanne shifting in her seat like a little girl waiting for the bell on the last day of school, he felt fucked in all of the best and worst ways. (Click to keep reading...)