The Right Garza : A Friends to Lovers Romance (Red Cage Book 1)

by S. Ann Cole

  “Yes, yes,” I say, dangling off the serrated blade of impatience. “Please, yes.”

  “So needy.”

  Asshole. He likes to mess with me, this man. And I always play right into the traps he set for me.

  He fists my thong and pulls it down and off me, leaving me bare, wet, and quivering.

  “Fuck,” he mumbles to himself as he drops to his knees, grips my thighs and drags me closer to the edge, my legs falling over his shoulders. “Pretty pussy. So much prettier than I imagined.” He presses his nose to me and inhales deeply, whispering something inaudible.

  “What?” I ask, trembling with anticipation.

  In answer, he put his mouth on me.

  My head falls back and a long, sinuous moan spills from out of me like smoke toward the ceiling. He laves at me with prowess, like the artful strokes of a painter’s brush, with confidence and unhurriedness. Eliciting mewls and moans from me that sound foreign to my own ears. I writhe and squirm, restless and overwhelmed, filling…filling…filling…on the verge of overflowing…until I’m jerking in staccato, my legs locked tight around his neck, my arms stretched wide on either side of me, sheets gripped tight in my fists as I chant, “OhgodOhgodOhgod…”

  I’m riding high on the rippling waves of my orgasm, barely half conscious when Trent flips me over to stomach and drags me up by my hips until I’m on all fours.

  “Wait, I want…” I trail off on a trembling moan when I feel him prod at my entrance.

  “What, Lexi?” He slaps my asscheek. Hard. “What do you want?” Another slap. “What the fuck do you want?”

  A delicious sting permeates across my ass cheeks, and I’m so ready and eager for him that I don’t even remember why I stopped him or what I was going to say. There’s only one thing I want right now and it’s him, inside me, so I push my ass back, encouraging, welcoming, and the head glides in just a little. My walls clench greedily, eager to latch on once he’s in.

  “Nothing. No—I mean, you. I want—”

  He slams into me.

  “AhhfuckingyesTrentyes!”

  He fills me. Completely. Entirely. To the brim.

  Oh, sweet hell…

  To get a firmer grip of my hips, he shoves my dress further up until it bunches up around my torso, and then his fingers dig into my flesh as he begins fucking me.

  And it’s everything.

  Him…our connection…our mingled sounds of ecstasy. It all feels so….

  With each touch, with each caress, I experience these strange, indescribable waves of….

  What I am feeling right now isn’t just pleasure that is expected from great sex. It’s…more. Distinct. New. Unprecedented. It feels as if I’ve finally found something I didn’t know I was looking for.

  Driven wild, I push back, meeting him, matching his rhythm, thrust for thrust. Until he pulls out and flips me over again. I scramble up on the bed and he follows me like a prowling beast. His jeans are still on, shoved down to his hips, but he moves unhindered.

  Welcoming him, I part my legs. He glides two fingers through my sopping heat, massaging my clit as he settles between my thighs on his knees. He pets me until I’m right on the brink of another orgasm, then stops abruptly, pulling a cry of protest from me.

  The bastard immediately grips my thighs and buries himself to the hilt. It’s all that was needed to send me over the edge.

  My walls snap around him like a vice as tremors overtakes me, utterances of pleasure spilling from my lips. He fucks me without pause through the waves. When my eyes finally flutter open, they find his staring down with such torrid intensity it terrifies me.

  Too much. Too much.

  I start to look away but am stopped by a sudden feeling in my chest. A feeling that’s both warm and chilly, spreading through me from head to toe. It’s so sudden and unexpected. Like an implosion. Like a seismic shift in the earth.

  I grip his biceps, and I must look terrified because he stops and frowns down at me, concern etched in every crease. “What happened? Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

  “I-I…” I stammer out, so confused. “Did you feel that?”

  “Feel what?”

  I wait for a couple beats. This is California, it had to have been an earthquake. Otherwise…I don’t know what the hell that was.

  “Feel what, Lexi?” Trent prompts when I don’t respond. “What happened?”

  “Didn’t you feel it?” I ask him, hoping I don’t sound crazy. “Like—like a small earthquake, I think.”

  He makes a slight shake of his head, his dark eyes narrowing.

  The aftershocks still linger, in my chest mostly, but all over. My fingers and toes are both hot and cold. My head feels light, like a floating balloon. And as I gaze up at him, I know it’s no fucking seismic shift.

  It’s something.

  I don’t what.

  But I also don’t care. Because I don’t believe in nonsense like this. In “electric sparks” and “fireworks” and “soul mates.”

  So I turn my head and close my eyes, shutting it all out.

  “Lexi…”

  “Fuck me.”

  There’s a long pause, but then, he does as I demand. He presses his palms to my pelvis to keep me in place and fucks me so I feel every inch of him.

  Hard, deep, merciless.

  I whisper his name like it’s a prayer as he hits home over and over, stirring me up all over again. I’m so wet, so hot, so greedy, needing more and more and more and more.

  Shifting from off his knees to hover above me, he hooks one of my legs in the crook of his muscled arm until it’s almost to my chest, and then he drives into me.

  He’s ferocious now. Mad and wild. Holding nothing back. Giving me everything.

  It’s too much. More than I should be able to take. But my body loves it, because before I know it, I’m surfing the roaring waves of another orgasm, jerking my head forward to sink my teeth into his shoulder.

  “Fuck, Lexi, fuck,” he groans into my neck. “Wanted this for so long. Wanted you for so long. You’re—fuck.” He thrusts harder, faster. “So sweet. So fucking sweet. Shit, baby, I can’t—”

  A feral growl rips from his throat he as plunges deep into me and stills, his cock pulsing inside me, his face buried in my skin.

  And…I don’t know what it is, but I’m so abruptly overcome with emotions that my eyes brim with tears.

  Lifting my watery eyes to the ceiling, I try my hardest not to blink. Willing the tears to dry up, to go the hell away. What am I even crying about? Who cries after sex? What is this, prom night?

  Luckily, Trent takes a good deal of time to recover from his violent orgasm. By the time he pushes up on his elbows to gaze down at me, I’ve managed to wrestle the inexplicable tears into remission.

  His lips kick up in a slanted smile right before he begins kissing me all over my face, nosing me like a puppy. “Hmm, that was a nice warm up.”

  My eyebrows shot up at this. “Warm up? Are you serious?”

  He kisses one corner of my mouth, and then the other. “We’ve got a long night ahead of us, Hellcat. We aren’t even fully naked yet.”

  Can he really go again after all that? I’m so thoroughly screwed I don’t even know what letter comes after K.

  “You’re insane,” I say, trying to get out from under him.

  But he doesn’t let me. He rolls to his side, taking me with him, and lock one of his legs around both of mine.

  “Where’re you trying to go?” He chuckles at me. “You poked the bear and now you’re gonna have to play with it.”

  Oh, dear. “Can I at least take a power nap first?”

  He full on laughs now. “The way you were begging for it I thought you were ready to play, Hellcat.”

  “I did play!” I exclaim. “Damn well, too.”

  He’s grinning and it’s so damn dazzling to me because I know it’s genuine; I know it’s because he truly he likes having me here with him. “Okay, you can have a power nap…on one co
ndition.”

  “I know better than to make deals with you, Trent. You’re the devil.”

  “So, no power nap?”

  A groan vibrates in my throat. “What’s the condition?”

  “You let me cuddle you.”

  A disgruntled noise climbs up my throat. “Why? I hate cuddling.”

  “I know.”

  Of course he knows. I’ve quite openly and miserably voiced my dislike for cuddling when Torin used to try to cuddle me during weekend movie nights on the back lawn at the Garza residence. Cuddling makes me feel caged, and hot, and…vulnerable. And I do not like feeling vulnerable.

  “Then why would you want to do that to me?” I ask through a groan. “To torture me?”

  “Because I’ve waited my whole life to hold you. Spent alotta nights cuddling my pillow and pretending it’s you. Now that I’ve got the real deal here with me…”

  Frowning, I breathe past the lump lodged in my throat. “Why your pillow when you’ve had so many ‘Tiffanys’ you could’ve cuddled?”

  “None of them were you.” He dusts his thumb across my cheek. “Only woman I ever wanted to mold to me is you.”

  Be still my heart… “Okay, I’ll let you cuddle me for five minutes.”

  “Nope, all night.”

  “Fifteen minutes.”

  “All night.”

  “Twenty minutes?”

  “All night. That’s the deal. Wanna curve your naked flesh against mine. Feel your heartbeat, listen to you breathe. Wake up with your smell so seeped into my skin it’ll take days to fade.”

  Oh…my… Who is this man?

  I trace the tip of my finger along the side of his neck. “Men like you aren’t supposed to like things like ‘cuddling’. Badasses don’t cuddle and listen to women breathe. They manspread and sleep with their legs hanging off the bed. Aren’t you worried I’ll think you’re soft?”

  His chest shakes with silent laughter. “Nice one, but that won’t work on me. We got a deal?”

  After all the energy those two orgasms wrung from me, not to mention all the alcohol I had earlier, there’s no chance I can go another round with this beast of a man without some rest, so, I grumble, “Fine. But I’m doing this begrudgingly.”

  There’s amusement in his voice when he says, “You’re the one who packed an overnight bag. Told you I wanted a lot from you, Lexi. You should’ve been prepared.”

  Glad you find me amusing, you manipulative bastard.

  “Yeah, I’m already starting to question my sanity.” Sobering, I ask softly, “You’ve really never cuddled anyone else?”

  “Never.”

  “Why me, then?”

  He tips my chin up so our eyes meet. “It’ll only ever be you, Lexi.”

  I’m always compelled to panic and look away whenever those darkly intense and intruding eyes of his meet mine, but this time, I fight the urge to panic, the urge to avert my gaze, and instead meet his head on without cowering, without hiding. Until a calming acceptance washes over me.

  Then, quietly, I whisper, “Okay.”

  Chapter TWENTY

  “Timing is everything.”

  Lexi

  I wake up alone, sated, and sore.

  The wine-red sheets smell like Trent and sex. I press my face into the pillows and smile, feeling a sense of peace and calm that I can’t even begin to describe.

  He cuddled me all night. And it was…beautiful.

  Surprisingly, I didn’t feel vulnerable, or soft. In his arms, I felt safe. Wanted. Cherished. And I don’t want to think about why that is. It freaking scares me.

  Suffice it to say, he won’t have to manipulate me into letting him cuddle me in the future.

  I laze around in the sheets for a while, never wanting to leave this bed. But the occasional sounds downstairs eventually push me to get up. After freshening up, I throw on clean underwear and a casual summer dress from my overnight bag.

  It’s only when I’m making my way downstairs that the smells hit me. The delicious aroma of bacon mingling with the happy sounds of reggae music. I’d assumed Trent had gone to the office again and it was True down here, but when I hit the landing and turn into the open kitchen, there’s Trent, in lounge pants and nothing else. He’s making breakfast while bobbing his head and singing along to Bob Marley’s Is This Love.

  I stop at the kitchen island. “Someone’s in a good mood this morning.”

  He turns, arching a brow as though he hadn’t heard me enter, but he doesn’t stop singing. Setting down the spatula, he starts dancing toward me, a big old smile on his face, his usually dark and intense eyes full of life and mirth. He looks so boyish in this moment, happy even, like the carefree prankster I grew up with.

  “What’s gotten into you this morning?” I ask through a laugh.

  Still singing, he snakes his arm around my waist and begins to move me along to the beat, and his mood is so damn infectious I start dancing along with him.

  Giggling, I ask, “Is this your usual ‘I got laid last night’ mood.”

  “No. This is my ‘I’ve got Lexi fucking Flores in my bed’ mood,” he replies, then resumes singing to me.

  I’m grinning so wide my face hurts. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “And you’re breathtaking.”

  “Your bacon is gonna burn.”

  “Let it. I just want to dance with you. Everything is irie, mon.” The latter is said in such a comical bogus Jamaican accent that it makes me giggle even harder.

  We dance around the kitchen in swirls of genuine happiness and laughter until his burning bacon starts to smoke up the kitchen.

  Then I crack up with belly-deep cackles as I watch him rush to get it off the stove and salvage what he can. But it’s all beyond saving, so we dump it all and start from scratch together. Then we eat while standing up because we’re cool like that.

  “We need to make the best of the morning before my family lets themselves in,” Trent says, feeding me a piece of kiwi.

  I’m sitting on the counter and he’s standing between my legs, both of us sharing a bowl of mixed fruit after a hearty breakfast.

  Ah, yes. I forgot how everyone had just barged in on me last week. They all have keys to each other’s homes. It’s a Garza thing. Heck, I used to have a key to their home and I’m not even family.

  I lick fruit juices from my lips. “Like what?”

  “Like camp out in bed with me.”

  My stomach flips with both anticipation and apprehension of being in bed with him again. Trent’s sexual prowess is something to brag about, but he’s also insanely insatiable and doesn’t seem to understand the concept of resting to refuel. I hadn’t known it was possible to have as many orgasms in one night as I did last night. It’s a wonder I woke up with any energy at all this morning.

  My face must convey all I’m thinking because he chuckles. “Don’t look so scared. Sex doesn’t have to be involved…unless you want to. We can watch a movie or something. I just want to be with you.”

  “I’m not scared,” I lie as my apprehension slowly recedes.

  “You are,” he states matter-of-factly. “But it’s my fault. Should’ve controlled myself. I’ve just waited so long for you…”

  “Why did you wait so long, though?” I ask, genuinely curious. “With Red Cage’s resources, you could have gotten to me no matter where I was or what I was doing. Tillie said you knew everything about me.”

  “Timing.” He feeds me another piece of fruit. “Timing is everything.”

  “How did you determine the timing was right this time?”

  “You needed me.” Three words said so simply, so easily, like it should have been obvious. “I’ve always needed you, Lexi, but you’ve never needed me. You would’ve never been able to see me while you were busy being ‘Benjamin’s Wifey’.”

  I laugh at my old Instagram handle, @BenjaminsWifey. Married to money. It was all a part of the image we had to portray back when working with Slim. I’ve since changed it to
@LexiFlo.

  Trent is right, though. Back then I had only one focus and it was money. I gave no one the time of day and probably would have resented him if he’d shown up to interrupt my flow.

  Sobering, I tell him, “I like this, here, now”—I gesture between us— “and I really, really enjoy being with you. But I can’t promise that anything serious or lasting will come from this. Life wise, I’m all over the place. After paying off this debt to you, I have a lot to figure out. Where I’m gonna live, what I’m gonna do for work… A relationship just isn’t something I want to deal with right now.” I offer an apologetic shrug. “Just thought I’d throw that out there now so there are no expectations on both ends. A fun fling. Temporary. Let’s just treat it like that.”

  For several beats, he just stares at me, expressionless dark eyes roaming all over my face. Then, with a half shrug, “Okay.”

  A part of me sags in relief while another part, a much smaller part, slumps in disappointment.

  Mostly, though, I’m skeptical. Very skeptical of that easy “okay.” But I don’t have time to voice my skepticism because a squeal of surprise escapes me when he scoops me up off the counter and carries me up the stairs.

  He takes me straight to his shower, lathers me with soap, then fucks me against the tiles until I’m digging my nails into his slippery skin and trembling around him.

  Then, we snuggle nude in his bed and watch movies and share soft kisses, until the other Garzas’ let themselves in.

  Chapter TWENTY-ONE

  “You missed me?”

  Lexi

  It’s happened.

  Trent and I are a thing.

  Sort of.

  The last couple of weeks have been heady, sensational, lust-drunk, and sex-filled. It’s the happiest I’ve been in a long, long time. I look forward to the weekends like a kid looks forward to Christmas morning.

  With too much to do during the week on both our ends, we almost never see each other during the week. But when the weekends hit, oh man do we have fun. Never wasting a drop of time.