by MK Meredith
Addi ignored the questioning look from Roque; she had no clue. It seemed the Mother of Malibu was speaking in a code that no one understood but herself.
“Is Martin here?” Addi asked.
Nothing distracted Raquel better than the mention of her husband.
Necklace forgotten, Raquel dove into one of her favorite topics with fervor. Martin hated to miss it, but a remote hunt for his newest film with his location scout couldn’t be put off.
“Is that the film Gage is directing and starring in?”
Raquel smiled. “It’s going to be fabulous.”
Martin had taken Gage Cutler under his wing. When Gage had taken an interest in directing, beyond acting, Martin was all too happy to offer up an opportunity.
Opportunity. What she wouldn’t give for one. A case of wanting tightened her belly. She wanted to write, she wanted to publish, she wanted to be a sought-after author. The sensation of wanting was all too familiar.
She stared at Roque as he listened to his aunt with complete focus. I want Roque Gallagher.
“Oh shut up,” she said, sotto voce.
“What was that, darling?”
Again, Addi snapped to attention, this time keeping both feet firmly on the ground. “Oh, I said, ‘shut up’…look at this ring.” Hastily, she grabbed the closest ring off the display and held it out to Raquel.
She glanced at the ring, then back at Addi with a quizzical look before turning back to Roque.
Addi rolled the ring onto her opened palm and inhaled a gasp. The ring was male genitalia made of abalone wrapped in a circle to fit a size seven. Just her size.
She smothered a giggle with her hand when the title, Wrapped Around Her Finger, took on an all too literal meaning.
“How are you really, darling?” Raquel asked Roque.
The concern in her question yanked Addi out of her self-amusement.
Roque stilled, his face expressionless. “I’m fine.”
“It’ll be two years this weekend.”
He remained unmoved, and Addi found herself drawn to his side. She’d heard about his mother, Roxanne Gallagher. Another dynamo, not surprising since she was Raquel’s younger sister. Breast cancer took her and everyone else by surprise. Roque’s reaction took Addi by surprise, too. He stood like granite.
Raquel clasped her hands together. “Oh, she loved you.” A sadness filled her eyes as she studied Roque’s stoic form. “I wonder how she’d feel knowing the real reason she chose your name materialized after all.”
Addi slid a surreptitious glance to Roque’s face. His jaw clenched, and he stared at a point above Raquel’s head. She placed her hand on his upper arm, the steely strength beneath her fingers not unlike stone itself. Her touch jerked him from his trance, and his eyes roamed her face for a beat. The pain she witnessed there made her suck in her breath, made her want to ease the tension from his brow. Her heart gave a quick thump.
Life returned to his blue gaze, and he turned back to his aunt. “I loved her, too, as I love you.” He pulled in a breath. “Addi and I need to make our rounds and get going. We have an early shoot tomorrow to make up for some lost time on the film.”
Addi stepped back as Raquel wrapped her arms around her nephew’s giant form. She whispered something in his ear, and his brows drew together. He shot a look at Addi then quickly back to Raquel as she stepped back.
“Okay, off with you.” She embraced Roque one more time, then Addi.
Against Addi’s ear, she whispered, “Take care of him. He’s hurting.”
Addi shook her head against the implication as her heart yearned to rid him of the closed facade he retreated to in times of stress.
His stillness usually amused her, but in this circumstance, it made her feel a myriad of things. A twist in her gut, a squeeze to her heart—afraid.
Sticky, sweet, unwelcome things. Emotions weren’t going to help her where Roque Gallagher was concerned. A horizontal romp would but no emotions. She’d have to keep a tight lock on those bad boys because she couldn’t afford this softening toward him.
Literally.
After leaving the exhibit and picking up a couple bottles of wine, Roque drove like he was being chased by the paparazzi. Bad joke. Addi shook the morbid thought from her head.
She gripped the door’s arm rest, knuckles white. “Look, I’m all for wild, crazy fun, but I’d like to still be alive after.”
Roque shot a confused look her way as if surprised to find her in the car.
His blue eyes burned right through her before he focused on the road again. Shaking the itchy sensation from the nape of her neck—she’d revisit that reaction at another time; right now her life was at stake—she turned toward him. “Can you slow down a bit?”
The car immediately slowed. “Sorry, lost in thought.”
“No kidding.”
He continued to drive in silence.
“Can I ask where we’re going?” Her nerves played tag in her stomach waiting for his response. Please don’t say my hotel. Please don’t say my hotel.
“The beach.”
Immediate relief carried with it a not-so-friendly consequence as nausea rolled in her gut, chasing after her panic. Pulling in a few deep breaths, she willed her stomach to settle down.
Chase had begrudgingly set her up with a mailbox at The Huntington Place along with documentation of her stay, but not an actual room. She didn’t know how she’d explain it if he’d been heading to “her place” for a drink. Phew.
Roque pulled into the parking lot and cut the engine. Grabbing the wine, he got out, and she had to scramble to catch up with him.
Counting backward from ten, she followed a few steps behind him. “Do you really want me here?”
Roque swung around, his expression a naked canvas of raw emotion.
She seized on her breath, but just as quickly, his face cleared, and he answered with a curt nod.
He continued a few yards closer to the water’s edge. Finally, he stopped and sank to the sand. Twisting the caps off both bottles of wine, he handed one to her.
Accepting the Cabernet as she settled in beside him, she lifted it in salute. “Convenient.”
Roque took a few long swallows as he stared out over the rolling waves. With gratitude, she sipped hers, letting the full-bodied nectar wash over her tongue and slide down her throat.
She loved wine. And she needed a drink.
A slight breeze danced around them, chilling the air as they sat in the moonlight.
Addi scooted closer. She wasn’t about to freeze for the man.
She nudged his arm. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“What do you think?”
“No, but then again, why’d you bring me out here?”
He tipped his head in acknowledgment, then stared at her, holding her gaze so she couldn’t look away if she tried. “Is there something going on between you and Jimmy?”
She choked on her wine, almost spilling it on Chase’s dress. Holding the bottle away from her as she brought her breathing back under control, she lifted her hand in question. “What the hell gave you that idea?”
He shrugged. “Just a question. You two are always laughing, and the other day you’d had some sort of inside joke between the two of you. Looked like flirting.”
She sputtered, then stopped to pull herself together. Men were such idiots sometimes. How would he feel, knowing he was the inside joke? Well, not him so much as her wanting him. She tried again. “There is nothing going on between me and Jimmy.”
He stared out over the cresting waves. “Ever wonder where my parents came up with Roque?”
The switch in conversation caught her by surprise, but Addi considered his question with care. Though she didn’t understand why, she understood the reason held meaning. “I’ve always considered it unique, especially the spelling.”
Roque chuckled. “Meaning R.O.C.K. would be more apt?”
“You disagree?” She chuckled softly.
He shook his head and continued to drink. “No. But at one time, I would have.”
She waited. His attempt to pull in air seemed to take effort, like his body resisted the expansion or any movement at all. She reached out and settled her hand on his forearm.
His skin scorched hers even in the coolness of the night, and she resisted the urge to pull away. Not out of fear or the shock in sensation, but because the soft hair that tickled her palm, the heat that radiated through her fingers to her soul, made her want to sink in deeper. Now that was terrifying.
But he needed something, and she wasn’t willing to take their small connection away.
“The way the story goes, I was an active baby in the womb. So active my mother couldn’t sleep, couldn’t sit, could barely stand for that matter. In hopes of getting me to calm down, she reached back into her Spanish heritage and named me Roque, which loosely translates to rest.”
His voice thickened, tugging Addi along to share the emotion. It seemed his mother’s wish came tenfold. She’d never met a man more stubborn and at times more immovable than a mountain. Why did that now seem so heartbreaking?
He shifted in the sand and continued talking. “The joke was on her, though, because I came out even more high energy if that was possible. I’d get into everything, wanted to do…everything. And she was beside me every step of the way, dark circles under her eyes and all. My biggest cheerleader, my champion. She believed in me for me. She always told me I could be whatever I dreamed.”
Sadness filled his voice, and it seemed he spoke from deep in his chest. “And she was so determined not to get in the way that she never told me she was sick and made my dad promise not to, either. They kept it all a secret. They lied. And I’d been working so hard, with my head so far up my ass, I hadn’t noticed until it was the end.”
Blinking back tears, she allowed her fingers to caress his forearm, the hairs tickling her pads. He’d ditched his jacket and tie when they’d gotten in the car, and now he sat with his shirt partially unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
He raised his other hand, then let it drop to his lap. “My mom loved the whole concept of this film. I talked with her about it a lot, so much, before I knew she was sick. She’d want me to finish it, and I want to dedicate it to her.”
She worried for this man, was terrified of this man. His vulnerability increased her own, and the fact he’d let her see it unsettled her. Stilling her roaming fingers, she withdrew and settled her hand in her lap.
Roque glanced down as if the absence of her touch was more noticeable than the glide of her fingertips. He studied her a moment, then slid his fingers under hers and placed them on his arm. Turning toward her, he was so close she could feel his warm, wine-scented breath wash over her parted lips.
It was Addi’s turn to still, to sit motionless, transfixed. The intensity she had felt from him at the exhibit was back again, only now it was focused on her. “Jimmy and I were talking about you,” she said.
His eyes settled fully on her face. He knew she was there now.
She’d have bolted if she could have moved.
Trying to swallow proved impossible, her throat drier than sand. Her heart picked up a heavy, languorous beat that reverberated in her ears so loudly she could barely make out the crashing of the waves inches from her feet.
She knew what was about to happen, wanted it to happen, had dreamed of it happening.
And in that moment, all bawdy jokes aside, she wanted the feel of this man’s lips on hers more than she wanted a publishing contract, more than her next breath.
“Addison.”
His mouth fell upon hers, hot and demanding. Her vision went white.
Her heart forgot its lazy, heavy beat and raced in her chest. She breathed him in with every gust of available air and sank deeper, his tongue gliding against hers, diving right in instead of taking tentative steps.
She lost herself in the feel of his arms around her, his heat beside her. How long had it been since she’d been kissed like this?
In one effortless move, she was on his lap, her tush nestled atop his very apparent arousal, spiking hers to unknown, unrealized levels, and she wrapped her arms around his massive frame, one hand finding its way through his thick, silky hair. She gave a little tug, and he moaned.
A surge of power shot through her, and she both tightened her grip and deepened the kiss. Never before was she more a woman than in this moment. After racing toward her dreams for so long, it was a heady experience to actually have something she wanted in her hands.
How could a person be so hard and soft, have the ability to take and give, the audacity to demand and beg, all at once? She didn’t know, couldn’t care, and fought to answer him with every angle of her head, every stroke of her tongue, every bold, possessive caress, feeling every second all the way to her toes.
Protesting moans and begging groans joined the cacophony of the ocean’s persistent waves and the roaring in her head as her belly rolled in a sweet liquid heat, settling low and heavy between her legs.
She’d dreamed of how he’d taste, how he’d feel, but she never imagined how she’d feel. She felt powerful. This was something new. And it was as scary as it was beautiful.
Roque’s caresses became more demanding. He bent her head and exposed the back of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. He sucked her skin and followed it with his tongue. “This damn birthmark drives me crazy.”
She grinned, but as his hand slipped up her bared thigh to her hip, she faced the precipice of no return for herself and her heart. His taste full of dark berries and his scent of heat and spice seduced her senses.
Fear streaked in with a sharp and resounding slap. Addi struggled, then pushed at his formidable chest in a panic, tearing her lips from the warm, sensuous haven of his mouth. “We can’t.” She forced a moan back down her throat.
Having a fling, enjoying sex for sex with this man was high on her list of priorities, but this was different. This kiss was wrapped in emotion, sadness, a need for escape. Too many strings.
If they kept going like this, it wouldn’t be a fling, and she couldn’t afford that now.
Roque didn’t respond right away, seemed dazed and confused.
She grabbed his roaming hands. “Roque.”
He stilled, an immediate transformation from fluid to transfixed, from a sea of shifting sand to stone.
She was scared but had wanted every part of what he’d just offered. A moment of heaven, a chance to be close with someone who wanted her and understood her.
Placing her palms to his cheeks, she kissed the scar that had found a home below the outer corner of his right eye. She kissed each eye, each cheek. “I’m sorry.”
When he tried to capture her mouth, she resisted, and a growl of pure male frustration erupted from his mouth. It was so honest, so naked in its truth, her fear gave way to humor, and she chuckled.
“What the fuck is so damned funny?” His words were pissed, but his tone was full of self-derision, and she empathized. Intense blue eyes bore into hers, begging to get lost for just a while longer.
She couldn’t risk it, right here, right now. This one was dangerous.
She tapped the end of his nose, playful and friendly. Scooting off his lap, she stood up and held out her hand. “Don’t be a grumpy teenage boy; you know I’m right. If we do this now, it wraps us all up in your mom. And you don’t want that.”
He grimaced. “Teenage boy, my ass. What I just showed you took years of dedicated practice.”
She clapped her hands together. “Exactly.” Teasing Roque she could handle, but healing him required a set of skills she didn’t have. Hell, she could barely fix her own problems.
He shook his head, and she caught the curve of his mouth lifting in humor.
Her stomach rolled low and slow. She wanted to feel that mouth on hers again. All of her desire screamed in protest while all of her dreams begged for some clear thinking.
The latter was d
ifficult to do with Roque around.
She needed to get this man in an easygoing mood so she could get him out of his clothes—and soon.
But to do that, she had to get him out of his head.
So she could get him out of hers.
Chapter 10
Roque and Addi rode in silence on the way to Huntington Place. He wanted to pull her back onto his lap. The unfortunate consequence of kissing her once was that now he wanted to do it again.
Fuck.
She sat with her forehead pressed against the glass, watching the world speed by in a blur of darkness, worrying her lip with her teeth.
She turned him inside out. The whole night had turned him inside out. He loved Aunt Raquel, and she meant well, but talking about his mother was difficult. Pain and anger and loss still wrapped tightly in his chest with the mention of his mother’s name or the slightest hint of a memory. He avoided both at all cost, but lately both imposed more often than not.
Then there was Addi, a bigger surprise than anything. So many layers to that one.
They stopped at a red light, and he slid his gaze from the silky strands of hair escaping their pins down past the golden glow of her shoulder to the swell of her breast. He gripped the steering wheel to keep from reaching out. Then he continued his perusal over her hip and along the endless length of her toned and tanned legs tucked under her bottom. The pads of her toes peeked out from under her ass. She’d slid off her shoes before walking on the beach, and he didn’t blame her. He’d never wrapped his mind around how women managed so well on such a narrow base of support, but he was glad they did.
She was spectacular.
Vibrant and brash one minute, pensive and earnest the next. Something more than just the house and her career was going on with her. He could feel it. And he hated not knowing what it was, but he’d no right to ask, either.
He steeled against her confusing layers, the wanting, the unease. She was not a distraction he needed right now. He had no time or space for any kind of relationship. Too much was at stake, and he’d already proven himself inept at finding any kind of work-life balance.
