by Sharon Kay
Here it was, another person curious about his past. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Still.” She blinked rapidly. “When I read that, I just got so mad. It’s not right in any way.”
“No, it’s not.” He draped an arm around Rosie. He still wasn’t used to people he didn’t know apologizing for things they didn’t do. And she was right. He let the awkward silence stretch out, because there was really nothing else to say.
She fiddled with a bracelet on her wrist. “Um, are more of your friends moving here? Or, you know, into the area?”
Say what? “Uh…not that I know of. Why?”
She glanced at Matt. “Well, I work at the Sleepy Time Inn in Carbondale. My friend Helena works the night shift and she said these two guys came last night that really freaked her out. Lots of um, tattoos. She said even on their necks.” Thalia’s eyes widened as she emphasized the last word. “I don’t know, I didn’t see them. She’s kind of old fashioned, I guess.”
Cruz kept quiet, not sure where she was going with this. Beside him, Rosie pressed closer. “Um Thalia…did you get their names, maybe?”
“No. I can check though.” She frowned. “Oh! Helena also said they paid in cash. Like, they had wads of it. More than she’s ever seen before except at the bank. And she’s pretty sure they cursed in Spanish but then she said they had a Chicago accent. They were complaining about a long drive.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, this is dumb to bring up. They could be anyone.”
“Well, I guess just let us know if there’s any trouble,” Rosie said.
“Sure. I’ll text you.” Thalia gave a small smile.
Rosie gave her a quick hug. “Thanks, girl.”
They all made their way back to the cars, Matt and Thalia separating to get to theirs.
Cruz got Rosie in his truck, then rounded the front to get in. He found her frowning. “What’s wrong?”
“That was weird.” She watched Matt’s truck pull out of its makeshift parking space. “Thalia’s a sweetheart. I don’t know why she’d say that…unless she was worried. I mean, she basically said you might know these guys because they have tattoos and sound like they’re from the city. They could be from any city!”
“You getting riled up over there?” He reached over to flick a long strand of hair off her shoulder.
“Well, yeah.” That frown stayed in place. “I don’t like that assumption.”
“I’m not riled. I’d say you don’t have to be, but you’re pretty cute when you are.” He guided the truck back down the bluff, following the taillights of the car ahead of him.
She gave him a half smile, but kept on with her point. “You’re not bothered in the least that she kinda stereotyped you and some other dudes?”
He shrugged. “If I got mad every time that happened, I’d probably be a permanent student in anger management classes.”
“See, that’s the thing. People don’t know the whole story.”
“Not everyone wants the answer.”
She sighed and stared out the window. “True.” Sadness colored her tone.
“Hey.” He laid a hand on her knee. “Those people who judge? Fuck ‘em. They see what they want to see and hear what they want to hear.”
She dropped her own hand on top of his, tracing small circles on his skin. “You make it sound so easy. How do you do it?”
“I know that if they won’t look past the surface, then I don’t have time for them. They’re not gonna change.”
“You’re right. People are pretty set in their ways. Whether that’s good or bad.” She slowly moved her fingers up his arm, tracing his tattoos. Her touch was tender yet so tempting. Did she realize the effect she had on him? “Didn’t mean to get in a tizzy over that. What Thalia said about those guys, it could be nothing.”
“I might like your tizzies.”
“I can’t hide my emotions too well, I guess. Not a good poker face there.”
Turning back onto the main road, Cruz hit the gas and chuckled.
“Though if I was playing for real, then watch out.” She made a sweeping motion in the air in front of her face. “No one knows what I’m thinking.”
What did she just say? He swung a glance to her. “You play poker?”
“Sure do.”
“For real?” That was the last thing he’d expect from his little country girl. “Where’d you learn?”
“Shane taught me.” She twisted in the seat so she was nearly sideways, facing him. “After my accident, I had months of recovery where I just sat around. I read tons of books and watched movies, but I got to a point where I needed something else to do.”
“No shit.”
“So he taught me, and when I got good enough he’d bring friends over and we’d all play. For chips, of course. I had no income.”
“You keep surprising me, Rosie-girl.”
“Why? Do you play?”
“Yeah.”
“Well then, there you go.” She made a satisfied mm-hmm. “That may be the first thing we have in common.”
He laughed, because she was right. Well, almost. He had a hunch about one other thing, which he hoped to pursue ASAP.
“Wanna play?” she asked softly, reaching to idly caress his bicep.
They were almost at her driveway and her hands were magic on his arm. He’d played poker when everything he had was on the line, both before prison and inside. “I’d have to go easy on you.”
She sucked in a breath. “You did not just say that. Cruz, I’d whip you so bad, this truck would belong to me.”
“Oh really?” He turned into her drive. “Those are fighting words.” He turned to find her eyes locked on him in a playful challenge.
“Damn straight they are.”
He slid his hand from her knee to her smooth thigh. “All right. You’re on, pretty girl.”
“Yes!” She straightened as they neared her house, and he instantly missed her hands on him. “Hmm. What should the stakes be?” She tapped finger on her chin.
He reached the front yard and threw the vehicle in park. Fucking hell. He knew exactly what the stakes should be. He exited and met her as she hopped out and stood by the truck.
“Money? Dinner?” She tilted her head as he moved in close. “Something else?”
He laid both hands on the metal behind her, caging her in his arms. “Something else.”
“Yeah? Like what?” Blue eyes flashed with a delighted spark. “What do you feel like losing?’
His body had set its cross hairs on Rosie the day they met. He brushed one hand along her shoulder, stopping at the straps of her doubled-up tank tops. He tugged gently. “Our clothes.”
Chapter 15
All the air whooshed out of Rosie’s lungs. She stared at Cruz with her mouth wide open.
Oh my god.
His fingers, warm and rough, still held the straps of her tops. His lips, so kissable, glistened when he licked them in the dark. Hunger shone in his eyes and sharpened the planes of his face. He towered over her—dark, irresistible, full of wicked promise.
She closed her mouth, vaguely aware that she should respond. But words failed her when his fingers trailed along her collarbone and up the side of her neck. A shiver cascaded down her arm.
He leaned down to her ear, so close, the warmth from his breath sizzled across her skin. “What do you say? You in?”
Yes! God, yes! She tried to form syllables once more. “Y—” He traced a line to her ear, his finger leaving a trail of need. God, this was just one finger. How would she survive his body moving against hers?
The image that swept into her mind threatened to steal her breath all over again. She grabbed his hand and held it between her own, needing his hand off her to think, yet not wanting to let go. “Do you have…Last week we didn’t, um…” Why couldn’t she say it? She’d thought about it eno
ugh all week.
“I have condoms,” he rumbled. “Do you have cards?”
She nodded.
His eyes raked a slow caress of her body, from her breasts to her mouth. “Then let’s see your game, pretty girl.”
Oh god. She wanted to lose. She wanted to win. Either way, she was on fire with anticipation. He held her hand as they ascended the porch steps, letting go only when she had to unlock the front door.
“Key?” he rasped the word and she wondered if his body was as stormy inside as hers was.
“It’s in my pocket,” she managed to whisper.
In a swift motion, he moved behind her and locked a brawny arm across her chest, holding her tightly. With mind numbing slowness, he slid his other hand down her side, over her hip, and toward the front pockets of her jeans. She could only breathe in short gasps. Oh my god. He held her so close, she could feel his hardness against her backside. Thank god he was just as out of control as she was. She clutched his bicep because she had to touch him somewhere.
One by one, he worked his fingers under the seam of her pocket and pushed them down.
God. She was going to die. Each centimeter he moved lower was closer to the deep ache that pulsed in her abdomen. Each finger taunted her skin, with only the thin cotton pocket material acting as a barrier to his invasion.
He reached the bottom and his fingers splayed, almost reaching the juncture of her thighs. Electricity sparked down her legs. She was going to pass out. How was she going to play poker?
She may as well just strip now, for all the good she’d be able to do.
“You teasing me?” His lips growled against her neck.
“No.” You’re teasing me.
“No key here, babe.” Warm fingers curled inside her pocket.
“Wrong pocket.”
Faster than she could breathe, he spun her around and pushed her against her door. “That was a naughty thing to do.” He leaned down, sexy mouth an inch from hers.
“You didn’t ask whi—”
He slid his hand into her other pocket, delving roughly. She couldn’t hold back a whimper, because that was just as hot as his slow exploration. Every nerve ending was on fire.
Strong fingers wriggled and slid, searching, making her writhe. “Cruz,” she panted.
“Is this the right place? Or are you gonna make me check some more?”
“It-it’s right.” One syllable words were all she could manage. How was he talking normally?
His fingers closed. “So it is.” He withdrew it with tantalizing slowness and dangled it between them. “Allow me.”
She nodded, past the ability to speak, as he moved her from the frame to his side. He unlocked the door and shoved it wide, gesturing for her to go first into the dark house. She kicked off her shoes out of habit, belatedly remembering that they may have counted as one clothing item to remove. Oh well. She wasn’t going to last long. Who was she kidding?
“Um…” she angled her head toward the back of the house.
He toed off his own shoes and socks. She nearly stopped breathing. He stood in jeans, a T-shirt…and maybe underwear?
He came close enough to grab a lock of her hair and let it fall through his fingers. “Ready?”
She nodded and padded to the kitchen, where she got a deck of cards from a drawer. Cruz was right behind her as she led them to the family room. She tugged the coffee table away from the couch and sat down on the floor at one side.
He took the floor on the other side as she shuffled the deck. “Five card stud?”
She nodded. With just two players, game options were limited.
He stretched his hands out in front of him, cracking his knuckles. “Deal us in, babe.”
She laid a blind card in front of each of them and moved them to the sides. They’d turn those over later. Next card would be face up. She pulled a card for him and laid it on the table: a jack of spades.
For her, the next one was a five of hearts. Her loss.
She set down the deck and reached for the hem of her first tank top. She’d worn two today, doubled up because the top layer was sheer. Slowly she drew it up and over her head. She still had a plain white tank on, which was super tight because it wasn’t meant to be seen, and her bra.
His eyes tracked her like a panther.
She set her top on the floor and drew a shaky breath. With trembling fingers she turned over his next card. Four of clubs.
Should be easy to beat…but her next card was a two of clubs. Crap. Her loss again. She stood silently, slowly, and popped the button on her capri jeans. With a quick push to get them over her hips, they dropped to the carpet.
His eyes were level with her core. He licked his lips as he stared at her panties, her thighs. Skin he had almost just touched through her pockets. Tingles of memory shot through her. She sat down, feeling a rush of moisture between her legs.
Next card. For him, a nine of diamonds. For her, a queen of clubs. Thank god, his loss. She raised her eyes in heated anticipation.
He reached behind his neck and grabbed a handful of his shirt. In one quick yank, he had it over his head and tossed somewhere. God knew where, because she couldn’t take her eyes off his chest.
Chiseled. Hard. Inked. Words wrapped across one pec in a foreign language. Swirls, both bold and intricate, caressed the sculpture of his biceps and shoulders. Six pack abs, defined by a trail of hair that disappeared into his jeans.
Lord help her, she was nearly panting again. She raised her eyes to his face, not ashamed at all to gawk. He was perfect. She couldn’t move, riveted by him, in her house, so intense and sexy and about to—
“Want me to deal?”
“I got it,” she squeaked, since her voice was hit and miss ever since he’d declared their game on.
She dealt them each another card. His was the ace of hearts. God. She couldn’t beat that. Her card was a seven of hearts.
She only had panties, her strapless bra, and a skimpy white tank meant to be worn under other things. She reached up under her shirt to unhook her bra. Her nipples hardened as the cotton slid down, pushing against the thin tank.
“Jesus,” he muttered through clenched teeth.
That was four turns each. Time to check the face down cards she had dealt. Rosie slid a fingernail under the edge of hers, heat thundering in her chest. Cruz dragged his eyes from her breasts. She swore he was about to pounce. “You first,” he rumbled.
She flipped her card. Ace of diamonds.
He stood and tore open the button of his pants.
“Y-you didn’t look at your—”
“Don’t need to.” He yanked the zipper down and shoved his pants down past his hips. They fell the rest of the way. Rosie was only aware of this fact because logically, gravity existed on Earth.
Nothing was logical for her anymore. Her mind hazed over in delirium. She was dying. Cruz stood in a pair of black boxer briefs low on narrow hips. His erection stretched the fabric in a way that made her thighs clench. “I’ll take the loss.” He shoved the coffee table to the side and dropped to the floor in front of her.
Rosie’s breath hitched as Cruz prowled to a crouch, inches away. The way he moved was so fluid and graceful, but she knew what he was capable of. She’d seen him fight. He was dangerous. He was a predator. And now, she was in his sights.
Chin raised, lips parted, she was a breathless mess. Her body ached for anything he would do.
Moving closer, he paused for a delicious heart-stopping second before he slid a hand to her nape and crushed his lips to hers. She whimpered in the sheer delight and relief of finally feeling his skin on hers, after being taunted with the perfect display of his chest.
He delved deep, sweeping his tongue along hers. At the same time he shifted his grip to her hair and tugged her back. Awash in blissful surrender, she let him pull
her to the carpet.
“Rosie,” he growled into her mouth. “God, you’re so perfect.” He moved a hand down to her breast, squeezing through the flimsy cotton.
“Cruz,” she whispered, and skated her hands up his biceps. So hard, his muscles…She’d gotten a brief touch at the fair, when she’d almost fallen off the bleachers. Now she could be as greedy as she wanted. She stroked and traced each ridge, vowing to do the same with her tongue.
“Been wanting to do this for so long.” He kissed along her jaw and down her throat. When he got to her shoulder, he scraped his teeth along her skin, making goose-bumps erupt all down her arm. He chuckled as he traced the evidence of his bite. “You like that, baby?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She was long past the ability to talk. The weight of his body on hers was a sensual pressure that she arched into, needing to feel every inch of him, everywhere.
With a tempting glint in his eye, he moved to her breast and sucked at her nipple through the tank top. His free hand drifted to her other side to play.
Sweet agony tore through her as he nipped and tugged at her nipples. She ached for more, for relief, and needing him to take her higher.
He hooked the straps of her top and yanked them off her shoulders and down around her biceps. Breathing hard, he grabbed her top at the center front and pulled it down just below her breasts. As the cotton brushed across her nipples they tightened to stiff points begging for his touch.
A devilish grin tilted his lips. “So fucking beautiful.” He pinned her arms to her sides, pushing them under her so her body arched up to his mouth, and lowered his head.
He took one bud in between his lips. Barely in his mouth. Oh god. Panting, she silently begged him for more.
He locked his gaze with hers and feathered his tongue across the tip. Rosie cried out at the sweet tease. “More.”
She wriggled under him, but it was like being held under a boulder. A big, hot, muscular one bent on making her lose her mind. He only grinned and gripped her other side between his thumb and forefinger. Not moving…his touch was warm and seductive. The ache between her thighs turned painful as he built her desire to a fever pitch.
