by Alexis James
I exchange texts with Amita off and on for a while, make a quick call home and speak with my mom to let her know what’s going on, and simply soak up the air that’s not scented with antiseptic. It feels good to be away from the hospital for a little bit, good to put all that unhappiness and tension aside for a little while.
It feels amazing to know he’s right upstairs, sleeping like a baby in my bed.
I give myself a hard eye roll and gaze across the landscape of buildings that make up this neighborhood of Miami. In the distance I can see palm trees, and if I try real hard I can even smell the salty freshness of the ocean. My phone buzzes and after an initial panic, I give the device the stink-eye. I haven’t heard from Darren in weeks, so his out of the blue text most definitely catches me off guard. A quick perusal of the message makes me snicker; he simply wants to know if he left his favorite shirt here. I shoot back a firm no and cross my fingers I never hear from again.
After an hour or so, I give into my curious need to check on the very delectable, snoozing man and move slowly up the stairs on silent feet. Stepping through the doorway, I can hear the soft sound of his snoring, which gives me plenty of alone time to lurk there and gawk.
He’s sprawled in the middle of my queen-sized bed, facedown with his head turned toward me. His thick, dark lashes skim his cheekbones, and I find myself debating whether or not he’s more beautiful in sleep or when he’s wide awake. The sheet is pulled down to his waist, giving me a full view of his naked back and all those gorgeous muscles he hides so well underneath the starched white dress shirts.
My stomach does a fancy roll and all sorts of tingling goes on between my legs as I move toward the bed and slowly sit on the edge, transfixed as I allow my eyes to fully devour him. I wonder what he’d do if I peeled my clothes off and crawled beneath the sheets with him. Would he welcome me, draw me into his embrace and kiss me senseless? Or would he be repulsed, pissed even, berating me for having the audacity to take advantage of him at a time like this? While I don’t want to be berated, I’m also too much of a chicken to get naked and throw myself at him. Apparently Shy Mia still tends to reign supreme.
My hand, however, has quite the mind of its own. I slowly reach out and thread my fingers through his silky, tousled hair. His breathing halts briefly, and for a minute I consider pulling away and going back downstairs to hide. Timid Mia is good at hiding too.
This new, strong Mia has no hesitancy about scooting just a bit closer and running the backs of her fingers along the rounded edge of his shoulder. His skin is soft, cool to the touch, and as my hand slides down the rippled plane of his back, I notice that his breathing changes yet again. He’s waking up.
With a soft gasp, I quickly pull my hand away and feel my face heat. Oh my gosh. What he must think of me! Like some sex-crazed maniac, I’ve come in here and practically molested him while he’s sleeping. When did I suddenly become someone I would despise? Between the snooping around at his house and now this, I’ve broken any trust he could ever have placed in me.
“Don’t stop,” he whispers softly.
Stunned, I sit immobile, wondering if those words were only in my head. But when his eyes open and he looks directly at me with a dark, pleading expression, I’m once more lost in the moment. Endlessly lost to him. My hand is shaking when I reach out this time and sift my fingers through his hair, and though I fully expect him to start yelling, he shocks me by sighing contently and once more closing his eyes.
Now that he’s given me access, permission even, I take my time slowly exploring the entire plane of his back, right down to where the band of his boxers peeks out from under the sheet. Shifting onto my knees, I place both hands on him and begin to massage his tight muscles. He’s tense from all the hours of sitting, the worrying, but as I work my magic he starts to slowly relax, gently soothed by my hands, my touch. And as he does, my guilt rushes forward again until a sick wave of nausea comes burning up the back of my throat.
I can’t do this … I just can’t do this … I repeat silently to myself as my fingers dig into his flesh and he groans his approval. I can’t sit here next to him, touching him and walking down a path we’re both more than hesitant to travel as it is when I’m keeping something like this from him.
Pulling my hands away, I whisper, “I have to tell you something. But it’s not about your dad. Things at the hospital are the same.” Biting down hard on my lip, I gulp air for strength and silently pray he doesn’t hate me. “It’s about me, something I did.”
Eyes still closed, he responds, “Okay, what did you do?”
Tears fill my eyes and I stubbornly blink them back. Now is not the time to give in to this indulgence. “At your house, when I was getting your clothes, I found a photograph in one of your drawers.”
He visibly tenses right before my eyes, glaring as he rolls to face me, giving me a glimpse of his mouthwatering chest. “Did you look at it?”
I nod and swipe at a stray tear on my face. “Yes. You … you were happy then. With her.”
Ignoring me fully, he tosses the sheet aside and gets to his feet on the opposite side of the bed. If I wasn’t so disgusted with myself, it might register in my fuzzy brain that he’s standing there half-naked, glaring at me, his entire exquisite body on full display for my greedy eyes. But since I am thoroughly sickened by what I’ve done and I’m not all certain that he’s not going to blow a gasket, I scurry off the bed and start to back toward the doorway.
Cruz moves around the end of the bed and stalks toward me, his eyes awash with pain and anger. He walks right up to me, grasps my shoulders in his large hands, and growls, “Why would you do that?”
Okay, Mia, truth time. There’s no turning back from this point on. “I was curious … about you. I feel like I don’t know the real you.” My lower lip trembles. “I want to though. More than you can imagine.”
His eyes drift over my face and anger is evident in his expression. “You know enough.”
“Who is the girl in the picture?”
A haunted look crosses his face. “Someone I used to know.”
There’s so much more to this story he’s not willing to tell me. That much is evident, solely by the dark look on his face. “Can you tell me about her?”
“No. And I want you to forget you ever saw it.” Pulling away, he tears his hands through his hair and shakes his head. “I should have never let you go there.”
A sob bubbles up in my throat, the knowledge that I’ve broken the trust he placed in me sitting hard and heavy in my chest. “I’m sorry. I just … Well, I’m sorry.” Slumping against the wall, I whisper, “Please don’t hate me.”
I hear his harsh inhaled breath but refuse to look anywhere but down at the floor. How could I have done something like this, just when things between the two of us had finally started to improve? After all this time, he’d finally given his trust to me so willingly, and I’ve done nothing but throw it right back in his face.
Silent tears roll down my cheeks as I contemplate what to do next. I hate the idea of telling him goodbye. Just the thought of doing so sends more tears pooling to the surface. Somehow, this closed-up, reclusive, and tyrannical man has managed to put his faith in me, and all I’ve done is take advantage of that, and of him.
“My … my resignation … you’ll have it … t-t-tomorrow.”
A low growl sends my eyes flying to his, and I don’t have a moment to contemplate the situation before he’s pulling me against his sculpted chest, gripping my hair tightly in one hand, one hip in the other. His mouth comes down hard on mine, a kiss not of forgiveness, but of raw, explosive anger.
Reacting is all I can do, and when I weave my arms around his waist and rise up on my toes, he groans deep in his throat and takes a step closer. Our bodies weld together as his lips continue to plunder and punish mine. I can feel every line of his body against mine and the hard evidence of his cock makes its presence known against my belly, just as the kiss softens slightly and his tongue slides d
eeply into my mouth.
I sigh into his kiss, letting our tongues dance together as we fall into something unexpected, something beautiful. His hand moves around my hip, gripping my ass and pulling my body tight against his while a satisfied moan strays easily from my throat. My body swells to life, blood pounding in my ears as my panties soak with need for this man. And while I might not be any kind of expert when it comes to sex, I suspect he could bring me to orgasm with just his kiss alone.
He tastes like mint toothpaste, a delectable mix of heated-up male and spice. Our tongues continue to play together, dueling for space in my mouth, tracing paths over lips. He kisses like he does everything else: intensely and with a purpose driven goal. And if his goal is to dissolve me into a puddle and make me beg for more, he’s succeeded. It’s all I can do not to crawl up that hard body of his and make it mine.
His lips nip mine eagerly, dragging the soft flesh between his teeth and sending another wave of wetness between my legs. I moan unabashedly and nibble his lower lip, digging my nails into the soft flesh of his back until his mouth is on mine once again, and we’re quickly getting to the point of no return.
Boldly, I slide my hands down under the black boxer briefs to the warm skin beneath, gripping his ass tightly and rocking my pelvis against his. My head is a flurry of all the things I want to do to him: me, down on my knees, bringing him to orgasm with my mouth … straddling his waist and riding him until we’re both screaming. He makes me imagine what it means to really be a woman. He makes me want to be strong, be daring, and take what I want without asking.
Suddenly he lifts his mouth from mine and his tight hold lessens as he buries his face in my hair. “What the hell are we doing?”
“I want this,” I whisper breathlessly. “I want you.” Pressing my lips to his chest, I give his briefs a tug. “Please … let me.”
He growls low in his throat and takes my mouth once again, plundering his tongue hard against mine; the frustration he’s feeling is evident in the almost painful way he kisses me. I welcome it fully, because it’s nothing like I’ve ever experienced before. I deserve this bit of punishment for the trust I’ve broken amidst the crush I’ve been harboring for him.
When he breaks free, stepping back and putting distance between our bodies, I’m shocked beyond belief. We’re both standing there, panting, and he makes no effort to hide the massive erection that my eyes quickly stray to. He’s somehow turned me into a woman I don’t recognize—eager and willing and desperate to mate with her man.
“Why’d you stop?”
His gaze flits to mine and his jaw ticks slightly. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
I take a step toward him but the quick shake of his head halts my forward movement. “I’m glad you did. I … I … wanted you to.”
Tearing his hands through his hair, he sits on the end of the bed and dips his head. “This shouldn’t be happening. This can’t be happening.”
Stepping toward him, right into the space between his legs, my fingers dive into the dark, silky mass of hair as I whisper, “Why not?”
He grips my waist, burying his face in my belly, “Because I’m not a good man, Mia.”
Hugging him tightly, I lean over and whisper, “Yes you are. You just choose to hide behind that tough exterior.”
Lifting his head, his eyes fall on mine. “You think so, huh?”
I settle down onto his lap, amused that he’s still fully hard despite putting a halt to our kiss. “I know so.” My fingers trace the lines of his face, his smooth jaw, dark eyebrows. “I see how much you love your family, how dedicated you are to your company. Sure, you can be a real jerk sometimes, but I think you do that to protect yourself.”
He scowls. “Yeah, well, there’s a lot you don’t know.”
My hands cup his face and my forehead comes down on his. “Then tell me. Let me in.”
As close as we are physically, there’s no missing the cavern of doubt and fear that’s between us. Whatever happened to him, either because of the girl in the photograph or something else, he still refuses to trust me enough to fully allow me into his heart.
What do you expect? I ask myself as we continue to breathe in one another’s air. You broke that trust the minute you allowed yourself to snoop through his stuff.
“We should get to the hospital.”
Regret slices through me as I nod and slowly get to my feet. I have to believe we’ve made progress today, regardless of the fact that he put a halt to it. All I can do now is hope that once things settle down, we can revisit this issue and maybe … just maybe … take a chance on us.
What the hell is happening to me?
I gaze at my reflection in Mia’s bathroom mirror, trying to see past the man I know I am to the man Mia believes she sees in me. There’s something so inherently good about her, despite the fact that she willingly went through my things. I do believe it wasn’t malicious and was nothing more than simple curiosity on her part. Mia doesn’t have a mean bone in her gorgeous body.
My eyes fall lower and I growl out a curse. Even though she’s now downstairs and I effectively put an end to what was quickly spiraling out of control, I’m still painfully hard, which reminds me all too well how easily she’s gotten under my skin. I have no idea what I was thinking when I kissed her. I simply reacted … to her touch, to her soft, truthful words, to the intense need in her eyes that was for me and me alone.
No woman has needed me, not to this extreme, since Dani. The women that are paid to be with me are paid to need me, like all good whores are. But this … this eagerness to give me anything I want, to look at me with eyes that speak the truth, this hasn’t happened in years. It’s unsettling for sure, but I’m also extremely surprised. Somehow Mia and I have drifted together so easily, so naturally, despite my objections and her on-again, off-again hatred of me. I’d blame it on everything that’s happened the past few days, but I’d be lying. Our attraction has been there from the beginning, and while there are a thousand reasons why I should keep her at arm’s length, there are an equal number of reasons to let her in. I just need to decide if I’m willing to take that chance or if residing in my own locked-up world is better and safer for my heart.
Retreating to the bedroom, I quickly pull on fresh clothes. Despite what I might want with Mia—and there’s a lot that I want—I can’t forget why I’ve avoided committing or getting close to anyone in a very, very long time. I’m toxic … and dangerous. The last woman who trusted me died a slow, painful death—a death that could have been avoided had I been stronger, had I not been so damn pigheaded. She died begging me to save her, and I didn’t. I couldn’t.
Zipping up the duffle, I suck in a few deep breaths for strength and take one last look around. Mia’s apartment is a direct reflection of her personality: warm, inviting, welcoming. The truth is if I try, I can imagine us together in this space, curling up on her couch and watching a movie, falling asleep together, our naked limbs entwined. Her house is a real home, far different than the cold monstrosity where I live.
My eyes roll over the pictures on the wall: images of her as a young girl on the beach in Hawaii, standing next to two people who I presume are her parents; Mia, the spitting image of her mother, with dark exotic eyes and olive skin. Her father, like mine, is fair, and it suddenly dawns on me how alike she and I are, being raised in mixed-race families.
But while there are many ways we are similar, there are equal if not more ways we are different. She’s kind and considerate, and she does silly things like having a tree in her home and deciding to give it a name. She’s timid and shy, although I will admit that she is less so the more I get to know her. Especially if the way she came at me earlier is any indication. If I was a smart man, I’d have allowed nature to take its course, and then I wouldn’t be standing here fending off an erection that won’t subside. If I was intelligent at all, I’d have said to hell with my past, and right now we’d be on that mattress and she’d be screaming out my name.
<
br /> I hear the ringing of her phone, which effectively shuts down all my fantasizing. Duffle in hand, I hustle down the stairs and find her standing at the window. That gorgeous mass of hair is spilled in a wave of curls down her back, and for half a second I let myself remember what it was like to touch it, to touch her.
I have a hunch there’s a wildcat just begging to be let out, lying under the surface of all that silky skin. There was nothing passive about her kiss, or the hands she ran over my body. The shy girl I first met was nowhere to be seen when she was pressing her breasts against me or sliding her hands over my bare ass, begging me to claim her. And the simple fact that she was stunned silent by my reaction to her, eyes unabashedly locked on my cock, tells me there are many layers to my beautiful assistant.
She turns and her face flames red, eyes sliding to the floor as she appears to fight off the same memories I’m wrestling with. She speaks into the phone, ending the call with “we’ll be there soon,” before sliding it into her pocket and hesitantly glancing at me.
“That was Marco. He wanted me to tell you they are letting the family in to see your dad.”
Relief flows through my body. “That’s good news.”
“I made you something to eat.” She nods to the plate on the coffee table that’s piled high with a sandwich, carrot sticks, and fruit. While I take a seat on the couch and begin to eat, she moves swiftly into the kitchen, returning a minute later with two bottles of water. With eyes averted, she hands me one then takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch and twists the bottle open, greedily drinking from it.
“Thanks,” I reply between bites. “This is really good.”
