by Amarie Avant
“I’m not a stranger anymore, LeAnna. How about you join ReAnna and me for chocolate sundaes? We’re in luck. The truck is right over there. It has all the toppings in the universe. ReAnna said they’re your favorite too!”
I continue to back away, stepping off the curb. The past summons my return. Even in dreams, I’ll wake myself before this part. Pure and innocent, yet I had the intuition not to follow.
In my dreams, there weren’t honking horns. Only the perfect clash of oldies music, laughter, and the ice cream truck’s tune. Where are the horns coming from? My twin skipped away, hand in hand with the stranger, Sarah Beckett. They didn’t stop at the ice cream truck—they kept going.
Chapter Thirteen
Dominic
The attractive, deranged woman steps back. First, off the sidewalk, then Aria continues between two parallel cars. With each move, she’s placing herself in more peril.
“Stop, stop.” My hands are up palms out, in an attempt at peace. A sign I won’t touch her. “Aria!”
The ice cream truck passes, honking at Aria, a mere foot away. A driver in an SUV, who had failed at bypassing the ice cream truck, zips back into the lane. It veers away from oncoming traffic and toward Aria.
My arms wrap around her, and I bring her body flush against mine. The rush of the Hummer is so close it sends her ponytail slapping the side of my face. I exhale, staring at her. Terror washes over her brown eyes.
She was somewhere else just now. Her breasts crush against my upper ribs, heartbeat slamming at me. It’s the only fight she has in her. When before, she’s been a jaguar.
“Por favor,” I whisper across her face. “Stay here.”
“Dominic,” she murmurs my name as if we hadn’t been arguing.
Standing between the two clunkers, I hold Aria between my arms, determined to shield her from harm. From herself. The crazy wheels in her brain cease to churn. Embarrassment pulls her facedown, nudging her softness into my neck.
She feels good, smells even better.
I declare, “I’m carrying you inside now.”
“Nnnn—”
“It was not a request,” I growl, scooping her up.
Back in the waiting area of my law firm, I kneel onto the floor, sliding her onto the couch. Jaguar returns. She fights to sit up straight. Her thick thighs part. I plant myself there. My eyes warn how she won’t get rid of me so easily.
My fingers find the ultra-soft curve of her cheek. How young is she? I’d place her at almost legal, but I know her date of birth and that she has a master’s degree in Art.
“Stop, please,” she murmurs.
I drop my hand. It lands on her lap, then I stand. This isn’t normal for Dominic Alvarez.
Out of all the lives I have, women fit into two boxes: either I’m saving them, not the good old-fashioned way, no damsel in distress for me, but my version, segueing America from dream to reality.
Or I’m fucking them.
Every fiber of my being agrees with sliding into her pussy, balls deep. But she needs help—lots of it.
“I saved you.” It’s not something I need to say as a confidence pick-me-up. Her grasp on reality seems marginal, which brings us back to square one. Her delusions of who I am. “I’m not . . .” Fuck, I am a bad man.
“You—”
“Don’t call me El Santo, por favor!” I slam the back of my hand into my palm. “I know the names of every woman the news has released. Some of them, I knew.”
“You saved me.” Smoldering brown eyes sparkle up at me, tears cluttering and collecting. However, not one falls down her delectable brown skin. I glance away, unimmune to her temptation.
Aria stays planted as I stalk around. Too many emotions cloud her face. Disbelief, confusion, fear, and something else. “You saved—”
“Why so astonished? You were stepping out into traffic. Don’t do it again.” Or I will take you over my knee and tear that beautiful ass up. I add, “I’m not him, chula.”
“You left the butterfly—”
I’m on my knees in seconds. My thick waist presses between her thighs. The warmth of her sex presses against my abdomen, but I grip her face, look her in the eye.
Big brown eyes widen in shock. “What the—”
“You’re confused! I don’t give a damn about butterflies.”
“You came back to my apartment, and then you left the photo on my nightstand. It’s in my car.”
“Dom,” my secretary calls.
I paw her face, commanding, “Stay.”
“I’m not—”
“I said, stay. You will stay. Besides, I have the keys to your car.” I head down the hall. In my secretary’s office, Yasiel is nursing a bloody nose while a paralegal fiddles with an ice pack.
I huff. “Yasiel, I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“No!”
“Just a little look over. You and the girl—”
“No.” A more feminine voice cuts in.
“See, even she doesn’t want to go.” Yasiel presses his face forward, then tosses his chin straight back. I snatch at the Kleenex as blood rushes down his face.
“Yasielito,” Aria speaks up. “I’m okay. You should get checked out.”
I level a glance at Aria, who favors the doorframe with a curvy hip, then back to Yasiel. “What’s with you two?”
The kid laughs then drops his head back again. His voice is nasally. “She and I connected over life and death experiences. Mami, what’s your name again?”
I reply, “It’s LeAnna—”
“Aria,” she snaps.
“Aria,” I correct myself. “Yasiel, I—” The kid stops grinning and jolts out of the chair. I clasp his arms. “You can’t come around for a while. I told you so two days ago!”
In fury, he squeaks, “Those Colombians—”
“Callate la boca, por favor!” I roar.
“What about them?” Aria speaks up, regarding Yasiel like a protective tía.
Something akin to disappointment clutches my jaw. If I’m not El Santo, in her eyes, I’m fraternizing with drug dealers.
“Those Colombians are looking for the wife of one of the top dogs. Wife? Ha! Those pendejos beat her like an animal!” Yasiel says.
“Oh,” she murmurs.
“Dom thinks I don’t have it in me to handle myself.” He stops pinching his nose. Blood flows like water. Then he sits back again, cutting his gaze at me. “Nice to know you don’t believe in me.”
Shock sparks across Aria’s face. She was dead wrong about me. I gesture toward the paralegal. “Tonya, take Yasiel home, por favor.”
“Sí,” she murmurs. Yasiel mentions he’s Cubano, chest rising as he starts for the door. He’s still muttering under his breath when he reaches the crazy woman.
“You were my hero, Yasielito.” Aria runs a hand over his forearm.
“See.” Yasiel rolls his eyes toward me. “You always said make a friend, make a reference. Aria is both. She can vouch how I fight for—”
“Miss Tonya,” I speak up, nodding for her to follow through. There’s no stopping Yasiel’s ranting. She guides him out of the room. The bell chimes at the entry.
Aria leans against the doorframe of the office, silent, observant. My mouth tenses as I await her apology.
“This has been a horrible day.” Aria shrugs. I want to tell her we know all about horrible days, but she’s staring at me intently. “I’m not good at apologizing. So, Mr. Alvarez, I’ll leave.”
“No. You’re not leaving.” I step toward her.
Aria stalks through the lobby. I loop an arm around her shoulder and plant her against the wall in the hallway. Good, she’s trembling. My fingers could drag across the surface of her quivering body and detect where to fuck her. The pace. The intensity.
I place my hands on either side of the wall, box her in. I don’t touch her, just let her melt in anticipation.
“You’re trouble, Ms. Jones.”
Her thick lashes flutter up. For a beat, s
he exhales deeply. “Not your concern anymore.”
“What’s this talk of butterflies?” I’m baffled by my question, though curious.
“Nothing.”
“You mentioned them, sí or no?”
“Doesn’t concern you.”
I laugh softly, changing my course of action as Aria settles into nonchalance. I go in for the kill. Shoulders rising a little, I say, “You’ve been through enough.”
Her eyes blaze. Mine speaks volumes.
“How would you know what I’ve been through, Mr. Alvarez? You denied returning to my apartment to move the photo.”
I’ve stopped listening to Aria’s confusion. My eyes warm over as I think about the story Mitch wove together. God, she’s gorgeous, tempting, unhinged—in that specific order. My body hardens against her innocent, curvy frame. I exhale slowly, forcing myself to contemplate on Aria’s past and not strike.
“How?” Aria stops with the accusations to lick her lips. She’s reading me, reading her. After chewing hard on the soft flesh of her lip, she then growls. “How do you know about my past?”
Chapter Fourteen
Aria
For a second, I lost myself in his eyes. They were supposed to be these deep, intoxicating pits of darkness. Alluring, devilish. When I came to earlier, those dreamy eyes of his were warm, green honey jewels, offering too many promises. They enveloped me in a safe haven I never knew. For a second, he’d looked at me with a smoldering intensity, a mixture of furious desire and frustration. What was the meaning of his frustration? It passes quickly. Now, all I see is pity in Dominic’s cognac-laced gaze.
Screw his pity.
“How do you know me?” I repeat.
“Knowing an enemy’s triggers is my job.” Dominic’s breath ghosts over my lips. I realize he’s leaning farther into me. “You placed yourself at the epicenter. Made you my target, LeAnna.”
I hitch a breath. He called me LeAnna last night in my art room when all the adrenaline in the world was funneling through my bloodstream.
“That’s not my name. I’m not who you think I am.” God, I’m a horrible liar.
His hand skims across my cheek. I turn away.
“You’re making this hard on me, chula. I had intentions of sending you away with a threat, then I saw you.”
Dominic’s eyes drink every detail of my features as if he’s seeing me from last night.
What the heck did he see? I was a blundering mess! I mumble, “Oh yeah? What?”
“I was going to say your attempt to ruin my life would be futile. Your demise,” Dominic murmurs. His knuckles run along my side cleavage. “I was gonna call you the craziest woman I’ve ever crossed. Make you fear spreading your lies.”
A heaviness settles in all the right spots of my body. My pussy lips throb. The sound of his voice is enough to make me go cockeyed. Oh, but I see very well. My focus is on his lips as he talks shit about breaking me. What sort of woman wants a man to break her?
Fear cleaves to me. A sick, dirty thought courses through my brain, compelling me to break anyway he’d like. The sanity in me, which I know isn’t entirely too functional due to my history, doesn’t believe the hype. I chortle. “So, you’re saying I’m crazy? I should be punished for spreading lies? Ha!”
“Sí. But there are other things I’d like to spread when it comes to you.” His fingers frame my curves.
My lie comes through swift and apathetic. “Not interested.”
“I’m not interested in you either.”
Damn, that cut deeper than necessary. I slap at his dominating hands. “You’re just saying that.”
His hand claims my ass. “I am. You drive me to smoke, Aria. I want to dig into you. Fuck you angry. No, let me be honest.” He chews his lip. My senses heighten further. “I want to break you in half. Fuck you until your throat bleeds, and you go blind for a time. While you’re left undone, I’d smoke an entire pack of cigarettes.”
“Sounds like a bad habit you should’ve broken,” I reply sarcastically.
He stops massaging the meat of my ass and sighs. “And save you, Aria. Let me do that for you, mami. Break you in half, mold you. Save you. All of it.”
I strain at lifting from the wall. A tank is in my way. His name is Dominic Alverez, and he still isn’t an angel.
I swallow down trepidation. “I don’t need saving.”
“So, you’ll drop this El Santo chase, sí?” He grips my arms, thumbs running over the tiny chills he’s created.
“Sure.”
Dominic smiles again, annoyed with me. A defibrillator plants against my pussy lips, they jolt, jolt, jolt. He runs a finger over his thick brow.
“Sure? I don’t believe that bullshit.” He shrugs. “I’ll stalk you now.”
What is this? Survival of the fittest. I’m a guppy; Dominic’s the shark. Most people swim away, but I’m drowning fast in him.
“Are you El Santo?” I hold my breath.
He shoves fingers into his hair. This time instead of disappointment, Dominic smiles while muttering I’m crazy.
This is madness. The allure surrounding him is no doubt dark, though still tempting. My sex drenches the lining of my thong. Since Dominic doesn’t afford me a second rebuff, I lift my chin in defiance. Poignant silence lingers, then I speak up, “Listen, you’re not him. Yasielito convinced me.”
“Yasiel did?” Dominic shifts.
“The look he gave when you told him not to come around.” I pause, not adding how it broke my heart. “One day, Yasiel will understand your job isn’t always safe, and you care for him.”
He gestures. “Next time, you tell him that.”
Next time? I clear my throat. This was no whirlwind romance, only dysfunction.
Dominic stares at me. The shark has transformed from mega predator of the ocean to king of the jungle. His green-gold gaze dips to my mouth then trails across my skin, dragging over the globes of my breasts.
“Since you’re the good guy, you won’t stalk me while the Colombians are around.” I stop, thinking back to what the man said to Yasiel. “Anyway, I suppose this is goodbye?”
He says nothing. No adiós bag lady, nada.
Time stalls. I push off the wall after a lot of self-hype. His scent clings to me as I head to the door. My eyes close. I run my tongue along my lips. This is what waiting to exhale is made of. My eyes snap wide open as Dominic zips past me to get the door.
“Thanks.” My gaze gleams.
He follows me outside. “You’re not ready for goodbye, Aria. It’s such a eh . . . harsh word.”
“But—”
“My mami always told me it’s not goodbye. The proper term is ‘see you later.’ ”
I pause to stare at him. “Your mami? As in mother? Or one of the women you . . .”
A fleeting unrecognizable emotion crosses his face, then he smiles. “Mami,
Madre, Mamá.”
I nod. “You have a wise mother.”
“Had.”
“Sorry.” I glance toward the street where the world continues to turn. All I never knew I needed stands right before me.
“Still, you want to see me again.”
Heat blisters across my skin as he awaits my response. His attention leaves me breathless and aroused. I clear my throat and ask, “How are you so confident?”
“How will you get home?” His thick eyebrows pull together, thoughtfully.
My gander swivels across the street, and then I level a narrow gaze on him. I almost forgot we’re enemies. I pummel Dominic’s chest softly with the flats of my fists. Damn, later, I’ll fixate over the fact I slapped at his bolder-like pecs. For now, I jostle. “Hey, give me my keys. And my purse.”
“Your purse?” He rubs a hand over his face. “Hopefully, it’s in your car, mami.”
Dominic pulls the keys from the inside of his suit, cocking his head to the parking lot. “The intern parked it while I called the authorities . . . who should arrive by dinner. Speaking of which, lemme take y
ou to dinner.”
I strut off with his burning gaze glued to my ass. He keeps a stride at a pace behind. I move along the side of the building where his firm and a karate dojo share the same lot. At the sight of my car, I almost breathe easy. Over my shoulder, I shoot, “We’re a bad combination, Mr. Alvarez.”
“How so?” Dominic feigns innocent as I stop to fold my arms and glare at him.
“I should be checking my car for my purse. But since you’re so insistent. Every time we cross paths, either I’m judging you.” The apology lingers between us. “Or, you push me against the wall.”
“I didn’t push you against the wall the first time.”
I hate how readily I smile. The other night he scared me so good it hurt. “Oh, I stumbled.”
“Stumbled on what?”
“Air!” I roll my eyes.
Dominic’s smile sends a flood through my sex. “How about this? Next time I have you against the wall . . .”
The bad man saunters over to me. I find myself backing away. Dominic stops me, his hands resting at the small of my waist as if he has the right to. His thumbs caress and burn through the material of my clothes. How did I peg him so wrong? His touch is all comfort, safety. My whole body lights up with warmth, then smolders over as he speaks.
“You will climb that wall, chula. I’ll chase you all the way up. Maybe never let you come down.”
“O-oh, never come down?” My trembling voice stitches back together as I tease him. “What makes you think—”
My voice dies as he levels me with a look. My pupils dilate in shock. A rainstorm drenches my panties. Dominic’s abdominals trill between us as he quietly laughs.
I shudder out a sigh and dislodge myself from him. Roslyn exaggerates about everything. One thing she said is blaring true.
Cuban men. They think they’re perfect. You’ll live and breathe them, enraptured. When you realize the sweetness has become a cavity that has to be extracted—
Damn, I almost double sigh. There’s no hope for us. I have shit to do. Like, fulfill dangerous promises to women I’ve never set eyes on.
“Mr. Alvarez, you still think I’m crazy.” I rather that than the pity.