Saving Cruz (The Moran Family)

by Alexis James

  The color fades from her face as she gazes up at me with a bruised expression. “Yeah, well, that’s just too bad.”

  Before she can speak again, I roughly pull her into my arms and consume her mouth. The kiss is filled with anger and pain and all the emotion we’ve both been feeling this past week. I’m brutal with her, nipping at her lips with my teeth, kissing her so thoroughly she moans loudly and grips my shoulders with her nails. My tongue assaults her, dueling furiously in a fight neither of us are destined to win. Winning isn’t what I want anyway. I want to claim her.

  Lifting her off her feet, I somehow manage to kick the door shut and simultaneously send everything on the small table flying to the floor with a crash of glass that shatters over the stone entry way. Setting her down on the wood surface, I skim my mouth down her neck, over her exposed collarbone, grasping her ass in my hands and pulling her tightly against my ridged cock.

  “God, I hate you sometimes,” she whispers, raking her nails over my damp skin and reaching for the band on my shorts.

  Quickly disposing of her tank and sports bra, I growl, “I hate me sometimes too.” Most of the time.

  She hugs me close, whispering against my lips, “I need you.”

  “Here or in my bed?”

  Her eyes find mine. “Here first and then in your bed.” She drags my shorts down and immediately reaches for me, fisting my hard flesh tightly in her grasp.

  Somehow I manage to get her leggings and panties peeled down her legs, and with our clothes down around our ankles, I surge forward and bury myself deep inside of her. She’s snug and so damn wet, and I practically come on the spot when her nails dig into my ass and she groans loudly. I’m lost to anything but seeking pleasure in her sleek, warm body.

  Five days of anger and avoidance between us have left little room for gentleness or caring. I go at her hard and she welcomes every deep, driving thrust with a roll of her hips, moaning out loud and begging for more. I can do only as she asks, pounding away again and again, pushing her further than I ever have. When she comes, she does so loudly, screaming out my name and sending me right over the edge with her. Surging again and again, I empty myself in her and groan my release into her hair.

  Reality hits me the moment I open my eyes and take a shaky, deep breath. I’m buried to the hilt, bare since the one time Dani and I got careless, which resulted in her pregnancy. The fact that I totally bypassed the use of a condom, makes me realize how submersed I am in Mia and how all thoughts of her can consume me fully.

  “Take me upstairs,” she whispers, lips against my damp chest.

  Easily lifting her, I kick my shorts off and start for the stairs, keeping our bodies fully connected. I’m sure that once the haziness of lust wears off I’ll have a good freak-out session about my forgetfulness, but knowing now how incredible she feels, there’s no way in hell I could ever turn back.

  I head directly to the bathroom, setting her down gently on the counter. With a soft kiss, I slowly disengage our bodies and turn to get the shower going. While the water heats, I remove our shoes and socks, toss the remaining clothes onto the floor, and draw her into my arms, taking a good look at the back of her in the large ornate mirror. Her long hair is pulled up, leaving all her silky skin exposed. The curve of her waist dips in then out again at the flare of her hips. The face in the mirror I see over her shoulder is one of a fully-satisfied man, eyes dark with hunger, fingers grasping with need. And while I wouldn’t go so far as to describe myself as happy, the face I see there is more content than it’s ever been.

  Lifting her again, I step us into the large shower and under the spray, letting the warm water slide over our bodies as I take her mouth in mine once again. I kiss her gently this time, like I should have the moment she stepped inside my door, taking my time, dragging my lips across hers with soft sweeps of my tongue. We kiss like lovers do—endlessly, taking time to enjoy the sweet simple act.

  When we eventually come up for air, she whispers, “I’ve missed you”.

  I drop a kiss on her nose, her cheek, her forehead. “I’ve missed you too.”

  Cruz’s body is wrapped around mine, engulfing me fully in his warm embrace. He’s snoring softly against my hair, which makes me grin. The man is so beautiful it’s hard to believe he actually has a fault like snoring.

  The morning sun streams into the bedroom and from my vantage point, I can see the ripples across the bright blue water. This is a view I could easily wake up to every morning, but sadly I’m well aware my time here is most likely limited. Sure, he welcomed me with open arms the night before, but that could be easily explained by his simple need to get laid. While the thought of that being my certain reality makes me cringe just a bit, I do need to face the facts. Cruz has no problem putting me in my place and reminding me that while we may occasionally share a bed, I am still his employee.

  Slowly sliding out of his embrace, I pad silently to the bank of windows and fully take in the amazing view. It would be so easy to trip in and out of his life, sharing his bed when he offers, pretending like we’re nothing more than coworkers at the office and occasional lovers at night, but I struggle with the fact that I’m not a liar; I can’t hide how I feel and the past few days should be a stark reminder of that, especially since I’ve spent a majority of my time at the office hiding in the bathroom crying.

  I don’t like being weak. I really don’t like feeling like a second-class citizen, which I do whenever he pulls that ‘Miss Elliott’ crap on me. I’m not asking for him to drop to his knees and beg me to love him, but he could at the very least acknowledge that I mean something more to him than merely a convenient body to lose himself in once in a while. Smile at me occasionally, maybe have coffee together while we review the calendar, or just a simple compliment would be nice. So far all I’ve gotten are cold looks, harsh words, and oodles of icy retorts.

  Maybe my expectations are too high. Maybe all he wants in his life is a warm body and a good assistant. If I happen to be both, so be it. It does make me wonder what type of women he previously bedded, and if like me any of them worked for him. Funny, but I see him as gravitating more toward tall, skinny blondes rather than short, curvy, Hawaiian girls like me.

  “I like waking up to that view,” he drawls.

  I turn to find him smirking at me, his head propped up on his hand, eyes dark and needy. Somehow I don’t think he’s talking about the view out the window, which pleases me to no end.

  “The view is pretty good from here too,” I reply.

  “Come here.”

  As I get closer, he tosses the sheet aside and rolls to his back, treating me to a view of his fully-erect cock. “Was there something you wanted, Mr. Moran?”

  He hoists me up until I’m straddling his body. “Yes, belleza. I want to make you come.”

  My entire body reacts to his dirty words, shivering in anticipation as I stroke him softly with my fingertips. “I’d like that. Very much.”

  Reaching between my legs, he fingers me gently, cautious after so much activity the night before. “You’re not too sore?”

  I shoot him a wide grin and line him up at my entrance. “Only blissfully so.”

  Our gazes hold as I slowly take him in, inch by beautiful inch, until he’s fully seated and I’m gasping for breath. His hands slide up my waist, cupping each breast and skimming his thumbs across the hard nipples in a touch I feel directly between my legs.

  Taking my time, I slowly lift up and then slide back down. I do this again and again, rotating my hips, keeping my eyes centered directly on him. Unlike all the frantic times before, times when one or both of us hid behind closed eyes, heads buried and out of sight, this time our eyes are locked together, the intimacy of the moment ratcheting up as slowly and wonderfully as the act itself.

  “Give me more, querida,” he encourages, jaw clenching with restraint as he lets me control each movement fully. He knows very well that it turns me on when he uses Spanish endearments, so I shoot him a grin and
willingly comply.

  Slowly, I increase the pace, taking full pleasure from his body as I arch my back and simply give in to the desperate neediness. With each slam of my hips down on his, I can feel the slow burn start to seep into my pores, the exquisite surrender that’s just out of reach. I’m hanging onto the precipice, ready to tip over the edge and submit to him, and he’s all too willing to make certain he gets me there. His hands slide down to grasp my ass. Then he starts to thrust hard, pushing up when I push down and hitting that oh so perfect spot deep inside of me that sends chills racing up and down my spine. It takes only a few deep plunges to send me flying right over the brink, until I’m moaning and gasping and quite certain nothing has ever felt as wonderful as this moment right here.

  When I’m finally able to open my eyes, I find him still looking right at me, still guiding my hips in a blissfully slow rhythm to ease me down. Then suddenly, in one fluid movement, he flips me over until he’s on top; his thrusts once again hard and deep and rapid, demanding in my ear, “So damn beautiful. Come for me again.”

  Just hearing those words lights me up even before I’ve fully come all the way back down. When he pulls out I’m surprised, but when he slides down my body, settles between my legs, and sucks hard on my sensitive clit, I’m more than shocked. This moment is raw, intense, and more erotic than any time we’ve been together, and if I wasn’t so damn turned on I might be embarrassed.

  “Oh my God,” I moan, grasping at his hair. He’s ravenous, licking and sucking my sensitive flesh until I’m thrashing underneath him and once more right on that edge of no return.

  His eyes find mine. “Do you want to come like this?”

  I shake my head. “No, with you in me.”

  With a low growl, he treats me to one more swipe of his tongue, then flips me over onto my stomach, grasps my hips up and slams in hard. Up on all fours, I welcome each demanding thrust, each swirl of his fingers between my legs, each curse with one of my own. My body buzzes with sexual energy, incredibly wet from my recent orgasm and his tongue, and we slide together so easily it’s like perfection … only better.

  “There you go beautiful. Just let go,” he drawls and with one more swirl of his fingers, I’m screaming out my release and coming harder than I ever have. He swears loudly, slams in hard and comes, shouting my name.

  “Did you sleep well?” Cruz asks.

  We’re once more spooned together, sun streaming across our naked bodies as we attempt to regain some normalcy. I feel turned inside out, exposed and vulnerable, which makes no sense, considering the man has seen me naked and wanting numerous times. It’s more than that, though. More about what we shared and the intense emotion between us. I wonder if he’s noticed it too or if it’s all in my head.

  “I did. How about you?”

  He presses a kiss to my hair. “Better than I have all week.”

  Tracing his fingers with my own, I consider probing into his less than restful week then decide against it. There are bigger, more important things we need to discuss.

  “We didn’t use condoms.”

  He chuckles, which catches me off guard. “You noticed that, did you?”

  Reaching back, I pinch his hard stomach. “Don’t be a jerk. You know what I mean.”

  “I do. And it’s fine.” He nuzzles my ear and growls, “I love the feel of you bare.”

  My stomach does this weird upside down thing and shockingly there’s a twinge of excitement between my legs. “I do too.”

  Whether he’s ready to admit it or not, things have changed between us. The snuggling, the intense sex, and the lack of condoms … things I’m overreacting to most likely but must acknowledge nonetheless. We’re not exactly a couple or anything, but I’d put up a fuss if he tried to blow this all off as just another roll in the sack. Like he did the past few days, I remind myself with a grimace.

  He continues to surprise and shock me by asking, “What do you have planned for the weekend?”

  Lifting a shoulder, I reply, “Not much. The usual stuff. Laundry and a few errands. You?”

  “Same, I suppose. I should get some work done.” The lack of enthusiasm in his voice is evident, and I consider that maybe the workaholic Mr. Moran is ready for a day off.

  This is what it must feel like to be caught between a rock and a hard place. I’d love to suggest we spend the weekend together, maybe go to a movie or to the beach, but the woman who has been on the receiving end of his hostility is less than eager to offer up the suggestion. That being said, I don’t exactly need to pull on my clothes and head for home this minute. There’s got to be a happy medium here.

  “I’d love to make you breakfast before I head home.” I leave the offer hanging in the air and attempt to keep my voice steady, nerves hidden deep.

  His arms tighten around me. “Breakfast sounds great. But you don’t have to leave.”

  Rolling my eyes, I’m grateful he can’t see me. He is such a frustrating man. I wish he’d just come right out and tell me what he wants instead of all this uncertainty. If his plan is to keep me guessing, he’s succeeded.

  I’m not about to refuse what I know is a rare olive branch he’s extending to me. I’d truly love nothing more than to spend a few more hours in this man’s world. How pathetically sad does that make me? “Any requests?”

  “No. Help yourself to whatever you find. I’ll take a quick shower and meet you down there.”

  Turning to face him, I take in his handsome face, the warm eyes, the tousled hair, and for a brief moment I consider the magnitude of what I’ve done. I’ve allowed him to own me, body and soul, to make me his in every way possible. I’ve woken up in his arms, made love to him in his bed, and still I feel like he’s a stranger to me. Someone I’m desperate to know but feel I never truly will.

  “What’s wrong, querida?”

  The words seep out of my mouth without a second thought. “What are we doing?”

  He frowns. “What do you mean?”

  “This. Us. What is this? Is it just sex to you or am I someone you really want to get to know? Someone you might eventually care for.”

  I expect him to avoid my questions, to pull away and get angry like he always does when he’s pushed out of his comfort zone. Shockingly, he does just the opposite—tightening his hold and pressing his lips softly to mine.

  “I don’t know what this is, Mia. It’s more than I’ve had in a long, long time.” He pulls my head to his chest and speaks into my hair. “I do want to know you, and I do care about you. This is … it’s a lot, that’s all.”

  “I know.”

  Kissing me softly, he says, “Can we spend today together or maybe the weekend and see how things go?”

  Excitement and happiness flood my veins, and I force myself to hold it all back and try to take each moment as it comes. “I’d like that.”

  This feels like a positive first step, but the little voice in my head cautions me loudly about jumping the gun. Cruz is not the type of man to be dissuaded by a few blissful hours together. He’s going to need time to figure out what he wants, and I have to give that to him. Being impatient will get me nowhere and will be the quickest way to lose him for good.

  I’m standing at the stove frying bacon when he strolls into the room, wearing a faded tee and a pair of cargo shorts—very unlike the rigid, dressed-up man I see in the office every day.

  Feet bare, hair damp, he shoots me a wide grin. “You look sexy as hell.”

  He’s one to talk. The man who practically lives in a suit is nothing like this casual, relaxed, and super-hot version that struts toward me with a look that would make me feel uncomfortable if it wasn’t turning me on so much.

  Glancing down at myself, I take in my ensemble: his wrinkled dress shirt from yesterday, sleeves rolled up to my elbows. The shirt hits me at the knees, modestly showing only my bare calves and feet. “Uh … thanks?”

  Coming around behind me, his hands immediately cup my breasts as he nuzzles my neck. “I’m famis
hed.”

  Oh my God. How is it possible I’m once again dripping wet and eager for him to claim me? You’d think I’d have had enough, especially since every time I move I’m reminded of all he’s done to me. “It’s almost ready.”

  His fingers continue to work my nipples and one hand slides under the shirt to reach inside my panties. “I can’t seem to get my fill of you.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.”

  Quick as lightning, he turns the stove off and drops to his knees, sliding my panties down and off then pulling his shirt over his head. “Spread your legs for me.”

  Doing as he asks, I work the buttons on the shirt and push it open, anxious to watch him work me over. The moment his mouth touches my damp flesh, I let out a hearty moan and grip his head. His tongue dives in deep and in response, I loop one leg over his shoulder and start to rotate my hips. The magic he performs with his mouth seems to get better and better each and every time, and even though I’ve had a few other samples of men doing this to me, nothing compares to his sweet mixture of gentleness and command.

  “That’s it, beautiful,” he whispers between strokes of his tongue. “You’re so close.”

  This time when I fall, it’s more like a long, slow, tumble; waves and waves of exquisite pleasure vibrates through my entire body as I grip his head and let it take me over. He moans low in his throat, working me down gently until he eventually lifts his head and starts to kiss his way up my body.

  Standing to his full height, he slams his mouth down on mine, lifting me up onto my toes and letting me taste myself on his lips and tongue. His cock is rock hard, pressing against my belly, and with a groan to his mouth, I reach between our bodies and quickly undo his shorts. Grasping his ridged length in my palm, I pull my mouth from his and bend down, flicking my tongue around the bell-shaped end.

  “Suck me,” he demands, and I willingly comply, taking him as far down my throat as possible, until my eyes burn with tears. His fingers thread through my hair, carefully guiding me to where he needs me most, hips rolling with each thrust in my mouth. There’s a wicked part inside of me that wishes he’d force the issue, fuck my mouth as hard as he does my pussy, but the other more timid side of myself gives a loud non-verbal “what the hell are you thinking?” Clearly, he’s bringing out a side of me that has been deeply buried. Previously frigid Mia is long, long gone.