“Where’s your brain bucket?” I ask.
“At home.”
I voice my disapproval. “Why? And don’t feed me that I like to feel the wind in my hair line.”
She giggles. “If I’m riding in town, I don’t usually wear a helmet.”
“Not very cautious, are you?”
She slants her head. “I could ask you the same thing…”
I think I know what she’s implying. “Really?”
“Do you always wear a helmet?”
Ah…She’s curious about my sex life. I grin, evilly. “Trojan.”
She gapes at me. “You’re a hopeless pervert.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“Yeah.” She rolls her eyes. “I remember…”
We walk to my car. She checks it out. “Pretty hot. Fast?”
“I dusted you last night.”
“Hah!” That gets a rise out of her. “I let you.”
I unlock the passenger door. She gets in, watching me. I hurry to the driver’s side, get in, and start the engine. She smiles. “It sounds so smooth.”
“Like to go fast?” I ask.
“I’m addicted to speed.”
There’s something innocent about her. I can’t peg it yet. But whenever her eyes light up I nearly lose my train of thought. There’s an incredible magnetism at play here. When I look at her, she’s quick to avert her eyes. I laugh inwardly. I haven’t felt a spark of interest like this in years. I’m sure she’s feeling the same. I’ve caught her staring at me—my lips—my ass. I curse my inability to resist a pretty face. And damn Glenda for pointing out my overt attraction to Marisela.
We end up sitting on a park bench on Ocean Drive overlooking the water with takeout from Whataburger. It’s sunny and warm.
“I’m sorry about last night. But you pissed me off.”
She glances at me. “I’m known for dramatic entries,” she comments. “I didn’t know Robyn was pregnant—I have to be careful what I say and do in front of her from now on. She has high blood pressure and I guess the doctor is concerned.”
I almost drop my burger in my lap. “Pregnant?”
Marisela swings her legs around so she can see me straight on. “You didn’t know?”
I shake my head, stunned.
“You’re still in love with my sister, aren’t you?” There’s a note of disappointment in her voice. She’s assessing me.
Goddamnit. Why does everyone assume that? I’m ten girls over Robyn. “I’ll always have feelings for your sister,” I admit. “But…” Marisela’s eyes are so fathomless—ridiculously distracting. My mouth goes dry staring at her full lips. There’s a small dimple that shows up in her right cheek when she smirks. “I made peace with her a long time ago. I’m just surprised they’ve chosen to start a family so soon, that’s all.”
“Why?” she asks. “That’s what people are supposed to do.”
“Not necessarily,” I say. There’s an insolent glint in her eyes. This one likes to argue. And I have a feeling she likes to fist fight, too.
“What else are people supposed to do?” she presses.
“Fuck.” My heart nearly stops. Crude asshole. I gaze at her. She’s blushing—shifting nervously. “Sorry.”
She smiles shyly at me. “That’s a viable option,” she concedes.
I stare as her lips tighten around her straw. She takes a long sip of her soda. I close my eyes and groan. Her fingertips skim my hand. My eyes pop open, sharply focused on her.
“Are you all right?” she asks.
I’m not. And if she really wants to know, who am I to deny her? I slide down the bench, pushing our half-eaten meals off without thought. I cup her head, pulling her face close to mine. Her eyes widen and she gasps as my lips slant over hers. I explore the depths of her mouth, testing her resistance, barely holding myself back. She’s unsure of herself—I can feel it—but not unwilling. She leans into me. I tug her even closer, then deepen the kiss, my breath coming in ragged spurts. I can’t hold back much longer, not with the soft perfumed scent of her hair invading my senses. Or the heat from her lips on mine. She’s a magnet and I’m a piece of tempered steel. Even if what I feel for her is just raw lust, I can’t help myself. The attraction is too powerful to contain.
She pulls back and draws in a shaky breath, but I won’t let her go and assault her lips again. This time it’s more urgent—more possessive. I groan inside her mouth. My hands slip down her sides, gripping her slim hips. I nibble a line of kisses down her throat. “Come here, baby,” I urge. “You taste so good…”
“I can’t.” She goes stiff and pushes away.
I groan in disappointment and bury my face in her hair. “What’s wrong?” She has my full attention.
“I thought we were going for lunch, not…not.”
I square my shoulders, grasping her arms. “Did you like it?”
She frowns and turns away. She’s in denial.
I give her a tiny shake. “Look at me, Marisela.” The fear in those beautiful eyes rattles me. I release her immediately. She’s trembling all over. What the hell? I make women weep with passion, not fear.
“Can we go?” she asks.
“Whatever you want.” I stand, puzzled by her reaction. One minute she’s hot like burning wax, the next, frozen. Our trash blew away and I go after it. When I glance back at her, she’s sitting with her legs tucked into her chest, gazing at the bay. I’ve seen that faraway look in women’s eyes before. I hate what it suggests. I shove that thought aside. I want to kiss her again. Now.
—
That was the most sensuous kiss I’ve ever experienced. I had to put a stop to it. Craig is so smooth, he could talk me out of my pants in broad daylight in public. I can’t imagine how many women he’s slept with—kissed—seduced. And right now, under this summer sun, overlooking the water with the breeze in my hair, I’m terribly vulnerable. I haven’t relaxed this much in months—not enough to kiss a guy. Look what happens when I do. No one should know how to kiss like that.
In my periphery I see him staring at me. He’s wondering what happened, too. Natural attraction. I also like talking to him, even when we argue. It never felt this way with Estevan. Never. I’m at a loss for words. I thought I didn’t like Craig. He’s so arrogant. And all those nasty things he said to me last night—he meant them. How can that translate into a new crush overnight? I brush hair from my eyes and look up. He’s standing in front of me.
“What happened, Marisela?” He’s not going to let it go.
I try to formulate an answer. My cellphone rings. I dig into my purse and retrieve it. I look at the caller ID. Not again. Call number five from Estevan. He’s angry I left. I let voice mail pick up, but it rings again.
“Something tells me that’s part of the problem,” Craig says, frustrated. “Want me to fix it?”
I wonder what he means by that. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I should take this call.”
“Hello?” I say innocently. Never mind that my lips are swollen from Craig’s mind-blowing kisses. “At the park. No. I’m not coming back. I hate Austin. I hate…” Estevan threatens to kill me. My hands start shaking. Tears fill my eyes. “That’s going to be pretty hard to accomplish two hundred miles apart…” I cover my mouth. I just provided tactical information to my lunatic ex. “I’m not in Corpus!”
Craig’s big hand extracts the cellphone from my hands. I watch in utter horror as he holds it to his ear. Within seconds his face turns red, maybe blue. His heated gaze sweeps over me. Oh. My. God. What is Estevan saying now? “Really, motherfucker?” Craig bellows. “Let’s see you try it. Come near Marisela again and I’ll rip you in half.” He closes my phone and stares at me. He’s breathing hard.
I can’t handle the intensity of his stare. Tears prick my eyes again, and I turn my attention away from him.
“Marisela.”
No. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I left all my secrets behind in Austin. Corpus is my only sanctuary. It’s the onl
y chance I have to start over. “Leave me alone, please.”
He kneels in front of me and takes my hands in his. “I can’t do that,” he says. “Don’t you want to know what he said?”
I face him. “There are only so many variations in describing how you’ll carve someone into dice-sized pieces. Which body parts did he choose this time?”
“It’s not something to joke about,” he chastises. “No wonder you left in a hurry. Do Garrick and Robyn know?”
“No!” I inhale his sharp male scent. He smells so good. “You can’t tell them, ever.”
“Secrets have a way of catching up with you—just like lies.”
“Estevan isn’t a secret,” I say. “Everyone in Austin knows him. That’s part of his problem. His inflated ego…” I stop mid-sentence because I don’t want to waste time thinking or talking about that sadistic bastard. He’s history. I want to live in this moment. I gaze at Craig. Can he read my mind? Doesn’t he see I’m dying to be touched again? Please. Kiss these tears away. I don’t have seductive eyes. Hell, I don’t have sexy anything…
“Baby?” He blinks.
I know he’s trying to understand. I can’t verbalize what I’m feeling; I just can’t. I lean forward. I lick my lips. Anticipation is killing me.
“Marisela…touch me.”
His deep voice interrupts my intimate thoughts about him. I snap my gaze away.
He catches my hand and places it flat against his cheek. His massive palm covers mine. I shudder, hopelessly trapped. “I’m going to kiss you again, only this time, you’re not going anywhere.” He anchors me in place by holding my arms. I love the salty-sweetness of his mouth. I’m on fire the second his tongue meets mine. He thrusts inside my mouth, withdraws, then goes deep again. I melt into him. My insides churn—I’m instantly wet. I moan. His hands slide underneath my shirt, then up my back. His callused hands feel so good on my skin.
“You feel perfect.” He nuzzles my neck, then nips my earlobe. I shiver.
My phone rings again.
I groan in disappointment when he pulls away.
He looks at the caller ID. “How many times a day does this son of a bitch call you?” He sounds so angry.
“Too many.”
He stands and stretches his hand out. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“My house.”
I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. I’m already teeter-tottering on the edge of losing myself to this guy and I’ve only been reacquainted with him for two days. I don’t want to be another conquest. I’m not that kind of girl. I fought with all my strength to keep Estevan off me. I’m not sure I can say no to Craig. His fierceness turns me on. He reminds me of a blazing fire. All burn—all bite. I take his hand and he leads me back to his car. We get in and drive in silence. My cell rings again and again. I turn it off.
Chapter 4
I haven’t been to Padre Island in so long. I stare out the window as we turn off the main road and then onto Ports O’ Call Drive. We stop in front of a brick duplex, two-story on both sides, with double-car garages. The front yards are perfectly landscaped. A white stone walkway cuts between two oversized flower gardens. There’s a copper dolphin fountain between the two properties. Craig opens his front door. I follow him inside and look around. I can’t believe he can afford this lifestyle on what I’m sure is a meager club salary. Maybe he’s a gigolo. I giggle at the thought.
“What’s so funny?” He looks at me quizzically.
“Nothing,” I say, letting my gaze wander. The kitchen, dining room, and living room are part of an open floor plan. I love the white Berber carpet against the whitewashed walls. I look overhead at the vaulted, dark wood–beamed ceiling. There are built-ins in the living room filled with leather-bound books. I’m completely surprised and scan his collection. Classic literature? Shakespeare, Hemingway, Steinbeck? That’s too good to be true. I doubt he’s read any of them. A laugh nearly escapes my lips, but I manage to suck it in. I run my fingers along the seam of the spring-green leather sectional, stopping abruptly when I see the black bearskin rug in front of the fireplace. “Did you kill that?”
“Two years ago in Montana.” He’s proud of it. “Do you like hunting?”
“Me?” I snicker. “I’ve never held a gun before.”
Everything is so perfect. The blend of colors, the island-themed artwork. There’s a beautiful statue of the Roman goddess Diana on his mantel. Above that is a portrait of a million-dollar yacht with Craig lounging on the deck. “Yours?” I ask, knowing it can’t be.
“My father’s, in California.”
“It’s beautiful.”
He joins me at the fireplace and glances up at the picture. “I miss sailing.”
“We used to go every summer in Port Isabel,” I say.
He looks at me. “Maybe we can go sometime.”
“Sure.” There’s no sometime for me and Craig. He is the embodiment of a predator. That’s what he is…and I’m about to get skinned alive like that poor bear. What am I doing here?
“All right?” he asks, running his fingers up my arm.
“I can’t believe you can afford this place on a bouncer’s salary,” I blurt.
He considers me for a long moment. “I don’t work for free,” he says. “I also own a landscaping company. I’m not rich,” he assures me, “but I’m comfortable.”
I’m impressed. Smart, sexy, and entrepreneurial.
“Why don’t you run upstairs and pick out a pair of shorts and a top. I want to show you something.”
“What’s wrong with my hoodie?”
He laughs. “Trust me.” He points upstairs. “Third door on the right.”
I assume this is a guest room. I open the walk-in closet and flip on the light. Hangers filled with women’s clothing. Dresses, skirts, blouses…It’s crazy. This guy is a modern-day Don Juan. Deeper inside I find a set of drawers. There are tank tops and shorts. I look for my size. I find a pair of dark blue NAVY shorts and a white tank top. I’m utterly confused. Do single guys usually keep a bedroom full of clothes for the women they entertain? If I doubted my instincts about him before, I don’t anymore.
Before I undress, I check for cameras. Of course this guy doesn’t need them. He lives it. I look in the full-length mirror standing in the corner. I haven’t worn shorts in a long time. I don’t like to show off the tattoo on my left inner thigh. I do admire my shapely legs, however—especially my calves. They run in my family. Walk two miles a day and we get model-worthy limbs. My makeup is good. The tank top is a tight fit. I don’t have any shoes to wear, only my riding boots and thick cotton socks. I lay my folded clothes on the end of the bed and sigh. I wonder what he wants to show me. I head downstairs barefoot.
He’s waiting in the kitchen, dressed in black warm-ups and a muscle shirt. His arms are bigger than my thighs. And his chest—I can’t help staring. He smiles. And I instantly look away. This tiger is batting around his prey—paw to paw. I’m beginning to feel the effects of it. I’m nearly breathless.
“Want some ice water?” he asks. I nod. A tall glass is waiting for me on the counter already. “Grab it and follow me.”
We walk to a door at the end of a short hallway. It opens into the garage. One side is converted into a gym. There’s everything here he needs to maintain that gladiator physique. Free weights, Nautilus home fitness equipment, a stationary bike, and a punching bag. He grabs a remote and clicks. Avenged Sevenfold comes on. Great taste in music, too.
“Come here, Marisela.” He’s standing in front of the punching bag.
I take a sip of water and put my glass down on a nearby cooler. When I reach him, he positions me in front of him, so I’m staring at the red canvas bag. He lifts my hands. “Don’t be afraid to hit it as hard as you can.” In slow motion, he guides my fists and I make contact with the weighted bag. It doesn’t even move. “Loosen up.” He lets go of my hands and walks around to the front.
I stare at him.
“Come on,” he encourages me. “Jab.”
I punch—like a girl. The bag barely moves. I hit it again, harder. I try a combo. It feels great. I exhale and put more power behind my punch. This time the bag swings a bit. I smile and grunt. I do it again.
“That’s it, baby, let it all out.”
I phase out and focus exclusively on my target. The bag becomes Estevan’s face and athletic body. I switch between jabs and power combinations. After ten minutes I’m sweaty and breathless.
“Keep going, girl.” Craig is my cheerleader.
Another five minutes…I can hardly lift my arms.
“Come on…”
—
She’s fearless. I love the fury in her smoldering eyes every time she lands a punch. I know who she’s thinking about. I want her to work this guy out of her system. Banish him from her mind and heart. Destroy him. I want him gone. After hearing his psychobabble over the phone, I’m ready to kill him. When I listened in, he was in the middle of a sick tirade about what he’d do with a knife to her beautiful breasts.
I’m still processing everything. Deciding whether or not I’m obligated to share what I know with her sister and Garrick. I’m also in the middle of choosing what to do with her. Surrender or run like hell before it’s too late. One taste of those lips and I’m mindless. Rock fucking hard. I look at her. From her tiny feet, up those toned legs, to those almost-too-big-for-her-tiny-frame breasts, which bounce every time she strikes the bag. Shit.
For a minute I remember what it was like to run my fingers up her silky-smooth sun-kissed back. Perfect. She stops.
“Craig,” she calls, breathlessly. “It’s so hot in here. I can’t take it anymore. Can I take a shower?”
I can do better. I grab her ice water and take it to her. She gulps it down. “Come with me.” I lead her through the living room and out the French doors. “Does this work?”
She stares in disbelief. Then looks at me. “An indoor pool?”
“I’ll run upstairs and grab some towels, and…” I can’t finish my thought. My lips part and I suck in a quick breath. She wiggles out of her shirt, unsnaps her bra, and then dives into the water. Topless. She’s a sea nymph. I’m not about to walk away. I rip my shirt and warm-ups off.
Seduction Page 3
