by Alexis James
When the alarm blares to life the next morning, we both groan in protest. It’s early yet, just past seven, and the morning sun is once more streaming in through the wooden shutters, warming the already stuffy room. We’re spooned together in the middle of the bed, his face buried in my hair and his very awake cock making its presence known against my butt. Squirming slightly to let him know I’m fully on board with a round of morning sex, I grasp his hand in mine and guide it to my breast.
“We can’t,” he responds sleepily.
I snicker and wiggle again, and he hardens considerably in agreement. “Your body says otherwise.”
He shifts slightly, putting space between us. “We can’t, Mia. I’m out of condoms.”
Turning to face him, I assess his handsome face in the early morning light. His always tousled hair is a mess of confusion, courtesy of my hands and a very restless sleep. He looks beautiful as always, more beautiful than any man should, especially first thing in the morning. I cringe inwardly when I think of how haggard I must look.
My hand strokes his stubbled chin, and I whisper, “We can. I’m on the pill.”
His eyes narrow as he pulls further away and rolls to his feet, staring down at me with a hostile expression. “I don’t fuck without condoms. Ever.” Then, without a backwards glance, he stomps off into the bathroom and once more locks the door behind him.
Well, that wasn’t exactly how I’d hoped we’d start our first morning together. Sure, like most women, I assumed we’d snuggle for a bit and maybe have a quick round of jaw-dropping sex, but as I listen to the shower come alive, I realize my fantasies of a perfect morning have just been obliterated. Not only did he refuse me—again—but he reduced what we did together to nothing more than a basic carnal act. I suppose it was too much to hope that he’d feel we made love. To someone like him, it’s always only ever going to be fucking.
Disappointed, I slide from the bed and search the floor for my clothes. Dressing quickly, I gather up my work items and quietly let myself out of the suite, making the long walk of shame back to my hotel room. I suppose I should have left a note, but my bruised ego and battered heart feel like being a little snarky at this point. His behavior this morning takes all we did last night and changes it from an eye-opening experience to one that leaves me cold. If what he’d been hoping to accomplish was to keep me off balance and make sure I fully understood I was to read nothing long term into it, he most certainly succeeded.
Refusing to give into the tears that threaten, I let myself into my room and immediately start to strip. The scent of his skin lingers on mine, reminding me vividly of all we did to one another. You’d never know the man really wants to keep his distance, not after the way he came at me repeatedly yesterday. But as I twist the shower knob on and wait for the water to heat, I take a look at myself in the mirror and wince. The truth I see in my reflection slaps me silly. I was nothing more to him than a very easy lay.
Stepping beneath the spray, I remind myself of the promise he made me last night and how quickly that promise was broken. I should have known things would change once we opened our eyes, promise or not. But I chose to put faith in him because he apologized to me and because he was caring and loving and took his time with me.
“Damn you, Cruz,” I whisper, letting the water flow over my head and wash away what’s left of the most amazing night of my life. How the hell am I supposed to get through the next few days knowing all we did to one another? Unlike him, I can’t simply forget something like that, and I don’t take sexual escapades lightly. Not that I’ve exactly had any escapades to speak of before him, but I’ve never been the kind of girl who could be casual about sex even when I was having really bad sex.
Wrapping a towel around my head, I pad naked into the bedroom and lay out fresh clothes for today. Deciding to change things up a bit, mostly in deference to the warm, humid weather, I choose a sleeveless green sheath dress and bone colored sandals. After slipping on my favorite lace bra and a pair of nondescript, black panties, I head back into the bathroom to towel dry my hair and apply makeup.
I do my best to cover the dark circles and once my face is painted to perfection, I decide to forego my usual chignon and settle on a side braid, pulling the long, thick mass down over one shoulder. I suppose I could attribute this change in style to my eye-opening night with Cruz, but the truth is I’ve changed since I went to work for him. The crazy, chaotic ride I’ve taken with this beautiful, untouchable man has taught me a thing or two about myself: primarily that I was allowing life to pass me by. I was settling for the okay job, the okay boyfriend, the mediocre (not really even okay) sex, never believing I deserved more than that.
Then I meet Cruz—arrogant, cold, driven Cruz—and for the first time in my life I realized it’s okay to want more. It is okay to believe I’m entitled to more. Amidst all the tears and uncertainty that have come with getting to know him—and yes, caring for him—I’ve learned I want more out of life than all things mediocre. I want really fantastic sex, the kind I experienced with him last night. The kind that leaves you breathless and exhausted and counting the minutes until you can do it again. I want a man to want me like he did, with an intensity you can read on the surface of his body and in the soul-shattering way his eyes looked into mine. I want a great love, the kind of love you can’t let go of, even fifteen years after the fact. I’m entitled to all of that and dammit, I deserve it. I’m not about to settle for feeling like I’m being discarded.
Ten minutes later I’m dressed and shooting off a photo of myself on the balcony to send to Amita. The street below is vacant at this early hour, so unlike the revelry that was constant until well after midnight. Having never been to this city before, I have a list of things I’d like to see and do, if somehow I can find the time. Unfortunately, I have a hunch that my demanding boss will make certain I’m doing nothing but work.
A knock sounds at the hotel room door, and when I pull it open I can’t hide the shock on my face to see Cruz standing there. I assumed he’d text me, demand me to meet him to go over the meeting agenda. I never once believed he’d voluntarily seek me out, not after the way he behaved.
“Let me just grab my things and we can go.” I turn to gather up my computer bag and purse to find him standing just inside the now closed door. And while I’m not one to assume anything, I can fully see the contrite expression on his face. Remaining silent and waiting for him to speak only exacerbates it.
Tossing down his briefcase, he moves toward me and immediately places his hands on either side of my face. “I’m sorry for earlier.”
“Sorry about what?” I’m not about to make this easy on him. I’ve had enough of his hot and cold moods to last a lifetime.
“I was frustrated, because I wanted to …” His eyes dart away uncomfortably.
My brow lifts. “You wanted to what? Fuck me?”
Cringing at my use of the harsh slang he threw in my face earlier, he replies, “Christ, Mia, I’m trying here.”
Pulling away, I set my things down on the bed and put some distance between us, arms tight across my chest. “You could have tried, but all you did was snap at me and walk away. It’s not my fault you won’t have sex without condoms. That’s your issue, not mine.”
He tears his hands through his hair. “I’m not used to this, okay? I don’t do the morning after thing. Ever.”
A wave of annoyance threads through me, and I must consider that he’s going to always be making excuses for how he treats me. “So try. But don’t act like a jerk because you feel weird. All that does is make me feel cheap.”
Moving toward me again, he gathers me against his chest and mumbles into my hair. “Ah, belleza, I never wanted to make you feel cheap.” His lips find my ear. “It was … amazing.”
The fight slowly fades away as I wrap my arms around his waist. “It really was.”
A few quiet moments pass. Then he whispers, “I’m sorry for snapping at you. I was frustrated and pissed at myself, b
ut I shouldn’t have taken it that out on you.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.” Tipping back my head, I offer him a smile. “I accept your apology. But only if you kiss me properly.”
Grinning, he leans down and presses his lips to mine. “Let me make it up to you. I want to take you out tonight. Show you the town.” His tongue traces the edge of my bottom lip. “Please say yes.”
Like I could say anything but. “Yes, I’d love to go out with you.”
He groans with approval and takes my mouth fully in his, kissing away any remaining doubt, any lingering hurt. His kiss is gentle, reverent, and filled with all the emotion I’d hoped he would have shown me when we first woke up. But as he reminded me, this is all new to him. He’s learning, just as I am.
I have no doubt there will be constant issues and complications as we tumble into whatever this is between us. Sure, it’s a relationship, but I fully believe he’d protest if I referred to him as my boyfriend. We’re more than just bed mates, but what exactly? Not that I care whether or not we’re defined, but I would like to know if he’s only with me or spending time with other women as well.
I’ll ask him. Eventually. For now, I’ll take his kiss, his warm embrace, and his promise of a date later tonight and let that be enough. I’ll stock up on condoms at some point, because there’s no way I’m letting him use that as an excuse not to touch me again. And while I’m stocking up on those, I’m going to gather my patience. I have a hunch I’m going to need it.
I gaze across the small table at Mia and smile at the content expression on her face. She’s perched on the tall stool, one trim leg crossed over the other, her sandal-strapped foot bobbing to the beat of the music. The gorgeous fall of thick, wavy hair trails down her back, held up on the sides by a fancy bejeweled clip she purchased when we were wandering the shops late one evening. Her blouse is loose and sheer, dipping low in front and giving me a nice view of that beautiful bounty she’s hidden beneath. Christ, I could spend hours between her breasts, between her legs, and still I doubt I’d be satisfied. As it is, we’ve spent the past few nights tearing up the sheets together for hours on end. I’m as hard for her right this moment as I was a few hours ago, when I had her bent over the desk, screaming out my name.
Jesus … it’s crazy to think how much has changed in only a few days. We’d left Miami not speaking to one another, with her hating me and me feeling like an ass. Now here we are, not even a week later, and she has me completely transfixed—bound to her by an invisible chain. And on our last night I find that I’m beginning to worry about how things will change when we arrive home and are forced to face reality.
It’s easy to lose yourself in New Orleans, just as I’ve heard it is in Vegas, though I’ll admit I’ve never been there. Between the food, the music, and the constant party atmosphere, it’s no wonder she and I have been lost in one another. I’ve blown off meetings, bowed out of scheduled after-hours events, all to get more time with this dark-eyed beauty who has turned me inside out.
This isn’t me. I don’t blow off work to be with women. I don’t drift off in the middle of a meeting because I’m fantasizing about soft, warm lips wrapped around my cock. I sure as hell don’t almost blow million dollar deals, just to have a quickie in a stairwell.
A smirk lifts my lips when I think about earlier today and the stairwell … and making her come—twice. She’s so damn responsive to every touch of my hand, every stroke of my tongue. When I’m inside her … damn, there’s never been anything sweeter. Even now, after having had her repeatedly off and on throughout the day, I’m fucking hard as a rock and anxious to get her alone.
“What are you grinning at?” she asks, toying with the lime that’s perched on the edge of her glass.
Grasping her hand, I pull it to my lips. “Let’s get out of here.”
She grins and leans close. “Why, Mr. Moran, are you having dirty thoughts?”
Chuckling, I wrap my arm around her waist and growl into her ear, “Very dirty.” Taking her free hand in mine, I place it in my lap, letting her feel exactly what she does to me. “Dirty enough for you, belleza?”
Her eyes sparkle with happiness and for a brief moment I’m practically shaking in fear. I hold so much responsibility in my hands, and the last thing I want is to hurt her in any way, but I can’t dismiss the way she looks at me, the subtle hope that she tries so hard to hide. This has been an eye-opening experience for us both, but I’m deathly afraid her expectations of the future and mine are far different. Hell, I can’t even fathom the idea of having any expectations where’s she concerned. I’m so damn used to taking each day as it comes, never hoping for life to change, and now the mere idea of where this may all lead has me more than unnerved.
The smile fades from her face and her hand comes up to my cheek. “What’s wrong?”
Shoving aside the ever-present doubt and apprehension, I press my lips to her fingers. “Nothing, querida. Are you ready to go?”
She looks unconvinced. “Uh, sure. Let me just finish my drink.”
I remain holding her close while she sips her cocktail, occasionally glancing at me with a worried expression. Gone is the frivolity of a few moments ago, when she was just a happy, young woman enjoying a night out with her man. How sad it is that one worried look from me can reduce her to the insecure girl she was a few months ago? How terrifying it is that I have that much control over her heart?
Mia deserves the best of everything and sadly that is most likely not me. I make her happy, at least if the past few days are any indication, but that could simply be because she’s finally having really good sex. As she’s alluded a few times, her previous partners have been less than spectacular. Thank God she hasn’t asked about any of mine; I have no idea how I’m supposed to tell her I’ve done nothing but pay for sex for my entire adult life.
“Ready?” she asks, smiling at me, her eyes shining with happiness and expectation. She hasn’t said anything yet, but I fully expect her to bring up the subject of what to expect when we get home. The God’s honest truth is that I have no damn clue how things will be. I love the idea of continuing to enjoy her physically, but am I ready … willing … or free enough to give her more than that? There are days I’m still so bound to Dani, to the baby, and to my past. It feels like I’m living a life sentence for what I’ve done. The reality is that I should have been locked up the day of the accident and had them throw away the key. I fucked up. I was hotheaded and stubborn, drove when I shouldn’t have, and as a result it’s my duty to pay the price for my selfishness.
Finding happiness with Mia seems indulgent but so far it has felt like just the opposite. I have to ask myself, what would Dani think about it all? Would she begrudge me a happy life, simply because I took away her future? Probably yes. Because the truth of the matter is that Dani and my child are dead, and I’m responsible for that. And while no amount of unhappiness will bring them back, it does go a long way in repaying the high price for what I’ve taken.
Mia weaves her fingers in mine as we move toward the open doorway and out onto Bourbon Street. While we make our way through the throng of partygoers, I acknowledge that I’m going to be forced to make a choice. Either I continue to live my life in the past, paying the penance for what I’ve done, or I accept what has happened and move on and hope like hell I don’t screw this up too.
“This is decadent.” Mia grins, tapping her champagne flute against mine.
My eyes drift from her wide smile, down her bare shoulders to where her pert breasts peek out of the bubbly water of the Jacuzzi tub. “You are decadent, my beauty.”
I’m not kidding … she truly is. Her face is flushed from the warm water and the two mighty orgasms I just gave her on the hotel room floor. Her hair is piled haphazardly on her head, sending soft tendrils curling around her nape. By all accounts, she’s a very happy woman, and if I could simply accept that without all the worries that usually follow, I’d feel like the luckiest man in the world.
&n
bsp; She drifts across the water and settles in my lap. “I’m so glad this balcony is private.” Her nipples skim across my chest and my body instantly reacts. “I’ve never made love in a hot tub before.” Setting down the glass on the edge of the tub, she reaches between our bodies and firmly grasps my cock, which is of course standing at attention simply because she’s near me. “Please …”
Gritting my teeth, I resist the urge to lift her up and impale her on me. “No condom.” I fully restocked, as she well knows, but I don’t exactly have one handy out here.
Her hips rotate, rubbing her cleft against my ridged flesh. “I told you, I’m on the pill.”
Grasping her shoulders, I set her back slightly and growl, “And I told you I don’t fuck without condoms.”
Her eyes widen in shock at my harsh tone and the hostile look I throw her. I wish I could explain to her why I’ve always taken great care to protect myself over the years; always suiting up, getting tested all the time and never, ever taking chances. And while I’ll admit the idea of an unwanted pregnancy scares me like none other, the simple truth is that I’ve spent too many years trusting only myself in this area. I simply can’t imagine being so comfortable with someone that I’d assume she’d take care of us both.
Standing, Mia grasps her glass and tips it back, gulping down the expensive champagne, then turning hard, angry eyes on me. “I’d never lie to you about something like that. I’ll even show you the damn pills if you don’t believe me.” When I remain silent, attempting not to look at her slick, naked body, she resumes her seat and tosses out, “Why can’t you trust me?”
“I do trust you, Mia.”
She rolls her eyes and leans over to refill her glass, gifting me a nice view of her heart-shaped ass.
I wait until she’s seated again, then continue. “Why can’t you accept that I’m cautious about sex?”
