by Robin Leaf
“Why do you –”
“Look, the record company’s goon warned me that I’m still under obligation of my agreement with Ignacio. They not only know about it, but I was told they were the ones who suggested it. He told me that they would not only sue me for all the money I made on tour, but they would blackball me and end my career if I don’t honor the agreement.”
I can’t quite interpret the look that flashed on his face just now. It seemed to be anger mixed with heat and somehow, a bit of adoration. He sits back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, as he locks his angry, heated eyes on mine.
“Let me get this straight,” he growls. “You’re willing to let them ruin the career you love, one you’ve dreamed about since you were a little girl, to be seen out on a date with me?”
I shrug. “You’re worth it.”
His face melts into pure awe before he masks it with a blank expression. He reaches into his wallet and throws a wad of cash on the table before standing, holding out his hand to me.
“So,” he begins, leading me out of the restaurant with his hand at my elbow, “if anyone asks, we were having a dinner meeting where we were discussing your safety concerns in the wake of the vandalism at your apartment.” He opens the door to the restaurant and guides me though it into the parking lot. “I listed places for you to live that have top-notch security, where my building was at the top of that list, of course, and suggested that you have at least part-time body-guarding services, provided by yours truly.”
I bite my cheeks to stop my smile. “Mr. Reed, I’m not ready to move in with –”
“And,” he interrupts, stepping closer to me to unlock my side of the car, lowering his voice, “I certainly didn’t tell you how I was going to fuck you over the hood of this car as soon as we get back to my building because there is no way in hell I can wait to get you upstairs.”
He opens the door, which is a good thing. That way, I can fall into my seat just as my legs give out from his dirty talk. As he shuts it, I stare forward and work to get my breathing under control. Noah throws open his own door, starts the car, and backs out, his movements too controlled and precise for someone who just lit me on fire.
I just hope he can get us to that parking garage quickly before I explode.
Forty
Noah
What in the actual fuck?
God, I don’t know how to feel right now. I certainly can’t speak to her. I’m afraid of what I’ll say.
The woman next to me… this fucking angel goddess, who loves dancing more than anything else, would give up her burgeoning career for… me?
I’m so in awe of the gesture, yet I’m pissed. I know what her career means to her. She can’t give it all up willingly for me.
I know I’m pissed at the record company, too, but I don’t really have the means to fight them for her. I don’t know what to do about that, either, so I have to make sure the overwhelming need to go in there, guns blazing, and deliver my wrath by lighting up their fucking shiny building doesn’t transfer onto her. I mean, I’m pissed at her, too, but I don’t need to punish her for my feelings toward them.
I pull into the garage and almost spin into my parking spot. Turning off the car, I glance at her. Her shoulders are tense. She’s biting that luscious bottom lip, not her thumb this time, and staring out the windshield. Her eyes shoot to mine, flashing, and her breathing hitches.
Holy shit, she wants this… what I’m going to do to her.
“I’m going to get out of the car,” I tell her, “but I want you to wait for me to come open your door.” I grab my door handle. “While you wait, remove your underwear.”
My sassy little minx settles back in her seat and smirks, saluting me with two fingers. “Yes, sir.” Her snarky tone only makes my dick harder.
Throwing open my car door, I get out and step in front of my car. It was only a five minute drive, but my car is old and gets hot quickly. I feel the hood, which is probably a little too warm to be comfortable for her, so I remove my jacket and drape it, making sure to cover the grill of the car, too, just in case. Then, I take off my belt and unfasten my pants while I watch her watch me, licking her lips. Yeah, she wants this.
I skulk around the car, slowly, building the anticipation. Jesus, my dick throbs at the prospect of finally doing what I’ve dreamed about for years. I can’t see her from the lights reflecting off her window, so I damn near rip the door open.
She looks up at me with big, deceptively innocent eyes. I hold out my hand and take her delicate one, helping her step out of the car. She runs the fingers of her other hand across my lips.
“There’s a taste of how wet I am, güero,” she purrs, stepping closer.
She watches my tongue lick my lips, and she tries to control her chest as it heaves. I lean down and swipe my lips across hers once. When her tongue darts out to lick her own lips, I almost lose it.
I wrap my arm around her lower back, pulling her to me, and thrust my hips forward.
“Feel how hard you make me, cariño.” I walk her backward, almost dancing with her to the front of my car. Spinning her around, I pull her to back to my front and lean down to whisper in her ear. “I’ve dreamt about this.”
Placing my hand between her shoulder blades, I push her so that her chest is flush with the hood. Luckily, her high heels lift her to a more comfortable level than we were in the other morning over my kitchen table. I won’t have to adjust so much this time.
“Is the car too hot?” I ask.
Her eyes meet mine over her shoulder. “No.”
I drag her skirt up her hips and admire what I see. Round globes of her ass, perfectly shaped, begging to be smacked. I don’t think she would appreciate getting spanked right at this moment. I file the thought for a later date, but I take the opportunity to rest my palms on each side, squeezing not-so lightly, and pull them apart to reveal her damn-near dripping wet pussy. My right hand moves to her slit, feeling along it, circling her clit. She places her forehead on the hood and moans loudly, the sound making my cock beg to be inside her.
“How badly do you want this, Cristiana?” I ask, giving her clit a couple of rough taps.
She groans, “Just fuck me, Noah, please.”
With my left hand, I fumble to pull my cock out of my pants while the fingers of my right hand enter her, just to make sure she’s absolutely ready for what I’m about to do. I groan, feeling her coat my fingers.
“I’d say you want it bad.”
She whimpers her response, “Please.”
Moving my hand, I guide my cock to her entrance and slam inside, pulling her hips back to take all of me. She cries out, so I pause, moving my hips in a circle to hit all her good spots.
Her back arches off the hood. “Again,” she whimpers. “And don’t stop.”
I pull back slowly and ram into her, stilling this time, leaning over to growl in her ear.
“You will not ruin your career for me, Nana,” I pant, right before I pull back and slam into her again. “Do you hear me?”
Her eyes blink at me over her shoulder. “I told you.” She softens her expression, showing more than the fondness she usually shows… something that looks a lot like love. “You’re worth it.”
She loves me.
Holy shit. She loves me.
“Now, fuck me like you mean it,” she commands through her panting, pushing her hips back into me. “Please.”
I grab her hips and begin to move, making her moan. She meets me slam for slam, peppering her movements with a few nicely growled “Yesses” and high pitched, “Oh, Gods.”
I hook my arms around hers, locking elbows with both arms, to control the movements better, using the position to pull her to me on every thrust. She starts spouting her gibberish again, the incoherent words that mean she’s about to come hard.
“Fuck… Noah,” she whines, right before I feel her pussy strangle my cock rhythmically. God, it feels like nirvana, so I have to breathe through it, making
sure her orgasm ends so I can pull out of her and flip her over. I want to look in her face when I come.
This time, I don’t give her a chance to recover; I enter her again, leaning over her so I can keep up my relentless pace. Her eyes, with that same reverent expression as before, do me in. My spine tingles. My stomach tightens. My knees threaten to go weak. And I explode inside her, riding it out before collapsing on her chest.
Her hands caress my head, rubbing it gently, calming me while I fall back from the stratosphere. It’s as if all my racing thoughts quiet when she touches me.
I kiss my way up her chest, over her collar bones, to her neck. When my lips find hers, I try to convey everything I’m feeling in my kiss.
How much she means to me.
How much I need her.
How much I love her.
How she is the only woman I’ll ever love.
I’m so ready to say the words, but I’m just not sure the timing is right.
I pull her to sit upright, not breaking the kiss, nor do I pull out of her. I want us connected and on equal levels to have this conversation. I study her face and see her lit up eyes and her slight smile, a look of utter contentment. She looks like a woman who knows she’s loved.
“I love that you were willing to risk everything for me, Cristiana,” I begin, reaching up to smooth her hair through my fingers, “but I just can’t let you do that.”
She leans her forehead against mine. “It’s my decision to make.”
Cupping her cheeks, I pull back to stare in her eyes. “It is, you’re absolutely right.” I pull her to me and kiss her forehead. “I don’t want you to have any reason to resent me later and leave me.” I close my eyes tightly. “I can’t lose you.”
“You won’t.” She squeezes her pussy around my cock, and it begins to harden inside her. “Mi amor, I’m in this for the long haul.” Leaning forward, she captures my lips with hers briefly.
Mi amor. She called me her love.
“I’m only asking for forever.”
“Deal,” she nods, smiling as she pulls me by my shirt closer to kiss me. Pushing my hips back, she breaks the connection of our bodies. “Now,” she says as she tucks my cock back into my pants, “let’s take this upstairs where I can get you naked, and you can finally tell me about those tattoos.”
The tattoo stories will yet again have to wait because we’re about to find out that our world just got blown to hell.
Fuck.
Forty One
Cristiana
God, this man. I just want to hold onto Noah forever. I’m going to say the words tonight. I don’t care if it’s too early. Layla once told me that normal girl protocol is to wait for the man to say it first, but screw normal protocol. I’m a modern-day woman. It’d be different if I wasn’t certain that he feels the exact same way.
I snuggle into his chest in the elevator, taking in the scent that is all Noah. I wish I could bottle it. On second thought, I’ll just bring him with me wherever I go so that I can sniff him whenever I want.
The buzzing from his pocket interrupts my smell-a-thon. He pulls it from his pocket, glances at the screen, and sighs.
“Shit, I’m sorry, cariño, but I told them not to call unless it was an emergency.” He slides his thumb across the screen and holds it to his ear. “What’s up, Scotty?”
His body stiffens slightly, and his fingertips dig into my side.
“When?”
When his hand leaves my side, it grips the bridge of his nose.
“Yeah, okay. Thanks for letting me know.”
The sound he makes next is like that hiss of air that school bus brakes make.
“Tell me,” I say, gripping him tighter.
“Scotty got wind of something.”
The doors to the elevator open and he pulls me into the hallway to his door.
“And?”
He looks at me over his shoulder as he opens his door.
“And you’re not going to like it.”
***
“Nana,” Ignacio exhales when he sees me. He stands from the couch and makes a move to step forward, but he thinks better of it and stays where he is. “God, how are you even here after what I did to you?”
I take a second to breathe. Ever since Noah heard about the interview, our lives haven’t slowed down. Last night was filled with phone calls and heated discussions of how to handle the news; this morning brought us an early flight to Texas to beg for special permission to see Ignacio.
I don’t know what I expected from this mental hospital. It certainly wasn’t for it to resemble a five-star spa. The white meditation room where we are meeting is so tranquil. All it’s missing is the new-agey music or whale sounds. I’m not in the best of moods, but for some reason, being in here, and seeing Ignacio with my own eyes, is helping.
With careful steps, I walk closer to him. I take his outstretched hand and hold it for a second before letting go.
“You look good, Nacho.”
“I’m so fucking sorry, Cristiana.” He looks me in the eye. “That wasn’t me. I promise. That was what I thought was a long-dead demon whispering in my ear.”
I nod, feeling a bit uneasy hearing about his hallucinations. “I know. I was scared, but it was for you, not because of you.”
Bowing his head, he runs his hands over it. “I can’t tell what’s a real memory and what’s not right now. The doctor tells me that the hallucinations were caused by not taking the meds anymore, but I was taking them every day.” He looks up at me, eyebrows drawn. “I know I was.”
I nod. “I’m sure you were.”
“How could I not tell they weren’t the right meds?”
I swallow and look away. “I’m sorry that I didn’t pay closer attention.”
“Yeah,” he runs his hand over his head again. “That was my fault for not telling you the truth. I didn’t want you to know about…” He looks over my shoulder to see Noah standing just outside the open door, no doubt watching me like a sexy, muscled hawk.
Ignacio looks back and forth from Noah to me and his lips turn up at the corners. “You finally banged him.”
I feel my face flood with heat, and I blush harder for blushing. Mierda, I don’t blush. What the fuck is this about?
His smile is one that would make most girls swoon. “Yeah, you did.”
“I did, but that’s not why I’m here.” Walking closer, I take the chair to Ignacio’s right and adjust my position so that I can look in his eyes. “Joe told me he informed you on the Tabitha situation.”
“Yeah, that chica is more loco than I am.”
I feel myself wince. “Don’t say that. You’re not crazy, Nacho. You have an illness.”
“Yeah, but she’s like… diabolical.”
My eyes narrow as I bite my lips together. How do I tell him?
“Ignacio,” I say, softening my tone. “She’s agreed to do an interview with LeAnn Charles on Front and Center next week. No one can tell us what she’s going to say, but if we can’t shut down the interview, we need to be prepared in case she tells the world that you’re bipolar.”
He sits back, looks away from me, and begins fidgeting with his shirt’s hem. “She doesn’t know that.”
“She could, Nacho,” I whine, reaching out to touch his knee. “She picked up your meds and replaced them with fakes, so I’m sure she looked up what you’re taking and figured out why.”
His expression goes blank for a full minute. Honestly, it’s kind of scary. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, or if this news sent him over the edge.
“God, Nana,” he whispers, sinking back against the cushion, “I think I might have told her.”
I fold my hands in my lap. “Noah informed your new publicist when we found out, and she is working with the record company’s lawyer to get the interview shut down on the grounds that Tabitha is possibly mentally unstable. They’re hoping that the show doesn’t want to risk their reputation on a crazy woman’s word. They’re also filing a suit
against Tabitha for breach of contract.”
His eyebrows come together. “Why are you the one to deliver the news? Why aren’t you taking the opportunity to run away from me, especially after I hurt you?”
“Because I made a deal with you, Ignacio.” I smile. “And in spite of what you did, I care about you.” I reach out again and place my hand over his. “You’re my friend, and I will support you through this.”
His eyes search both of mine, searching them for a clue that he can fully trust me. He turns his hand over in mine, gripping and squeezing. “You mean that?”
“Of course I do.”
He sighs. “Good, because I have an idea, and I’m going to need help.”
***
“I can’t believe you agreed to this,” Noah barks, pacing the hotel suite. “Do you know what this means?”
I cross my arms, taking a deep breath so that I can try to remain calm. I don’t want this to end up in a fight like we’ve had before, and I’m trying really hard to keep my attitude in check. He’s making it so hard though.
“It means I’m supporting my friend.”
He stops and throws his arms out to the side. “It means that you and he can’t break up now. It means that you have to stay with him and support him for God knows how long so that you don’t look like the uncaring bitch who walked away from her man because he’s dealing with his crazy shit.”
“He’s not crazy,” I say, trying so hard to keep my voice under control.
Huffing, he corrects, “I know that, and you know that, but that’s the way the media will portray it. If you leave him, you would become the country’s new pariah.”
“And how do you think it will go if Tabitha gets her interview?”
“They’re working to shut it down.”
“All that’s going to do is whet their appetites. It’ll make it look like Ignacio has something to hide, and the piranhas will smell blood.” He places his hands on his hips, glaring at me, and I just keep talking calmly to his angry, beautiful face. “And if they can’t shut it down, no telling what she’ll say about anyone involved. At least if Ignacio does his interview first, he can tell his story, and we won’t have to react to the ramblings of a mad woman.” I step closer, placing my hand on his chest. “This way, we control the fallout.”
