Rush

by Beth Yarnall

“Davy… who would want to hurt him?”

  Lucy was going through the same thing Mi had, turning it around, trying to make sense out of something so senseless. There were no answers, only more questions.

  Mi talked to her friend for a few more minutes, trying to calm her down. They disconnected with promises to get together soon. Mi clicked the phone closed and swiped at her tears before they could fall.

  “Everything all right?” Lucas asked.

  “Yes. No. It’s just so awful.” She indicated her phone. “That was Lucy. I told her about Davy.”

  He came to her and wrapped her in his arms. “I’m sorry.”

  She melted into his warmth, his comfort. How had she come to depend on him so quickly when she’d gone so long with no one to rely on? And what was she going to do when the day came when she’d have to do without him?

  He smoothed a hand over her hair and she pulled back a little to look up at him. Yes, indeed, what would she do if he never looked at her like that again? If she couldn’t feel his arms around her, his heart beat against hers, his breath over her skin?

  She took his hand, kissed the inside of his wrist, then the palm. Such big gentle hands could bring comfort and pleasure. He watched her, his dark eyes heating, shining with the same desire that flared within her. She flicked her tongue out, tracing a circle over his palm. He moved closer and she widened her legs, inviting him in.

  Their lips met in the briefest of kisses, then again before they settled into each other, tongues mating. She reached for him, bringing him closer still, and slid her hands into his hair. God, she loved the feel of his hair and the way his body fit against hers. The feel of his hand on her bare midriff added fuel to the fire. She wanted his hands on her, everywhere. Pulling at his shirt, she broke the kiss to trail her mouth down his neck.

  “Are you sure you’re up for this?” he asked.

  “I need this,” she whispered in his ear. “I need you.”

  He shivered, a rippling of muscle. “You got me.”

  He scooped her up in one motion, carried her back through the living room, and down the hall to the bedroom. He laid her down and went into the arms she stretched out to him. She wanted his weight on her, holding her down so she wouldn’t fly apart. Needing the feel of skin on skin, she yanked at her clothing, then his. In seconds she got what she wanted, and that first moment when their flesh met settled something inside her, at the same time releasing a current of longing that sent her straight to him.

  No one was like him. His hands, his mouth, his body did things for her that no one had ever done, would ever do. After the first flurry of movement to get naked, they slowed things down. His fingertips feathered over her skin, setting small fires in their wake. He savored her, she felt it in the way he looked at her and touched her. This would be no frenzied coupling. It would be slow and deliberate and before they were through they’d each have taken more and given more than they should have. She knew this and yet couldn’t stop it, couldn’t keep herself apart from him anymore.

  She melted into the sensations, gave over to the sweet ride, and in return elicited long drawn out sighs and sharp intakes of breath from him that only encouraged more. She pleasured him with her mouth and her hands, telling him with her body what words could never express. Holding nothing back, they gave until they shook with a need that might never be quenched.

  And the moment he entered her she knew they’d crossed a threshold, could see it reflected back at her. He whispered words of endearment as he rocked into her, keeping pace with the hammering of her heart. Limbs entwined, bodies slick with sweat, hearts beating out a pounding rhythm they found their release, a shattering climax that brought tears to her eyes. He shook with the after effects and she wrapped her limbs around him, anchoring him to her.

  Their breathing slowed, but their hands kept moving, caressing, soothing. They’d been through a war, a rebirth. What they’d be on the other side, she didn’t know. She should be scared, but all she could do was accept.

  He tucked her tight against him as they drifted toward slumber. “Mi amor,” he murmured in a voice almost too quiet to be heard. But she’d heard and understood. My love.

  *****

  Mi woke first, having slept earlier. She shifted in Lucas’s arms, wanting to watch him unguarded, still sleeping. The fine lines around his eyes smoothed in relaxation his lips seemed fuller almost pouty. She resisted the urge to touch them, knowing they were softer than they looked. This was the first time she’d really studied him without him knowing. Her gaze traced every contour, every sharp angle. She supposed he wasn’t classically handsome, but there was something about him, something basic and masculine that called to everything that was feminine within her.

  “It’s not polite to stare,” he said, his eyes opening and meeting hers in that very direct way he had.

  “You big faker. How long have you been awake?”

  “Not long.”

  “You should have woken me up sooner.” She smoothed a hand down his body and found him hard. “We could already be working on a way to fix this problem you seem to have.” She stroked him, eliciting a moan. “I know just what to do.”

  Wanting to do something for him after all of the things he’d done for her, she threw off the covers. She kissed her way down up his body, paying special attention to her favorite parts until she arrived at her very favorite part of him. Taking him in her mouth, she coaxed and teased until she knew he was right on the edge.

  He reached a hand down to her. “Come here.”

  “No. Lie back and enjoy. Let me do this for you.”

  He groaned and said something incoherent as she went down on him again. He watched her with eyes hot and heavy. She took her time, then quickened the pace when she knew he needed it. He came with a jerk and a moan ripped from his throat. Dotting kisses back up his body, she hoped he knew she’d never betray him, tried to tell him without words that he could trust her even when she couldn’t be honest.

  “Hmm, problem solved,” she whispered and kissed him just below his ear.

  He rolled them so he was on top, hovering over her, never crushing her. “We’ve only got twenty minutes, but I’m up for the challenge.” Palming her breast, he kissed her neck in that way that drove her crazy.

  “What do you mean twenty minutes?” she gasped.

  He nibbled her earlobe. “Hmm, before we have to go see my mother.”

  She bolted upright, shoving him off her. “Your what?”

  He rolled easily to the side. “I have to make an appearance and you’ll have to go with me obviously.” He went for her breast again.

  “In twenty minutes? Oh, no.” She knocked his hand aside and climbed out of bed. “Your mother?” Throwing up her hands she stomped into the closet. “What am I going to wear?”

  Lucas watched her go, chuckling to himself at her reaction. He hated leaving the bed, hated more the reason he wouldn’t get to return Mi’s favor.

  She bounced back into the room, gloriously naked and madder than a coiled snake. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she demanded. “How long are we staying?”

  “We’re going for dinner. Come here.”

  “Dinner! Oh, my God. You should have told me sooner.”

  He craned his neck to take in her backside as she disappeared back into the closet. Yeah, he really hated that his mother had called and insisted he show up tonight. She’d laid the guilt on thick, using his sister’s upcoming trip as an excuse to get him there. Not that he didn’t want to see his family. He sat up on the edge of the bed and scrubbed his hands over his face. He’d have to explain Mi and he wasn’t entirely sure how she’d want to be described.

  He leaned forward to see into the closet. She was still naked, frowning over a couple of dresses. He hated them both, knowing one of them would soon be covering entirely too much of her.

  She turned to look at him, a frown still creasing her brow. “Which one?” She held up one, then the other in front of her body.

>   “Neither. Come back to bed, I’m not done with you yet.”

  “No way.” She bit her lip. “I wish I had time for a shower. I smell like sex.” She crinkled her nose like that was a bad thing.

  “We can take one together.”

  “Lucas, be serious.”

  “I am serious.” He got up, went into the bathroom and turned the shower on.

  Mi followed him in and gasped when she got a look at herself in the mirror. “My face.”

  “Is bruised, but beautiful. Come take a shower with me.”

  “I’m meeting your mother for the first time. I’m not going to show up late because you wanted water play.”

  “And my sisters.”

  She whipped her head around and glared at him. “Your sisters? How many?”

  “Three.”

  She slumped against the counter. “Three?”

  He nodded.

  “Any brothers or other relatives I should know about?”

  “I have some aunts and uncles, but they won’t be there.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Just Abuelita.”

  She gave him a funny look.

  “My grandma.”

  “I’m meeting your mother and grandmother? Tonight? With twenty minutes notice, looking like I got beat up, reeking of sex?”

  He wasn’t sure how he should respond, recognizing a potential disaster when he saw one. Instead he opened the shower door and made a motion for her to step in.

  Half an hour later, they hustled down to Lucas’s truck. Mi’s hair was still damp, but she’d done something to her eyes that made them sparkle like new pennies. She’d put on lipstick that drew his attention to her generous lips. God, he loved her mouth. And the things she did to him with it. Thinking about those things made his dick twitch so he tried not to think as he helped her into the truck.

  He’d filled her in on his family while they got ready. He was the youngest of four and the only son. His parents had divorced when he was young and his father lived in California with his new wife. His mother never remarried. Two of his sisters would be there tonight. His oldest sister lived in Houston with her husband and two daughters. Of his other two sisters, one was divorced the other unmarried.

  “So your ablu— ”

  “Ah-bwe-lee-ta,” he pronounced. “But you’ll call her Mrs. Vega.”

  “So she’s your father’s mother.”

  “No. She’s my mother’s mother. We were given my mother’s last name instead of my father’s.”

  “That’s unusual.”

  He kept his eyes on the road. “Yes.”

  “Can I ask why?”

  “There was no choice. Abuelo insisted on it.”

  “Your mother’s father?” she asked.

  He gave a curt nod.

  “Your father didn’t have a problem with that?”

  “He did. Still does. But my grandfather was a man who always got his way. Always. Eventually my father left my mother, left us, because he couldn’t bend to his father-in-law’s will any longer.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged, flicking off the shreds of anger he still carried. “I was named after Abuelo. Joaquin Lucas Romero Vega. Romero was my father’s addition, his dig at my grandfather, giving his only son his last name. Later after my parents split, Abuelo had Romero removed from my birth certificate.”

  Mi couldn’t contain her shock. “That’s… selfish.”

  “That was Abuelo.”

  “When did he pass away?”

  They pulled up to a huge ornate wrought iron gate. Lucas turned to her, searching her face in the darkened cab. He ignored the voice from the speaker box requesting their names.

  “Three years ago. And before you offer your condolences, you should know that the day they put Abuelo in the ground was one of the happiest days of my life. I would have shoveled the dirt over him myself if they’d have let me.”

  His vehement words delivered with a bald hatred she never knew existed within him, scattered goose bumps over her flesh. She looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. And maybe she was.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Lucas lowered the truck window and gave his name to the guy on the other side of the speaker box. The gates slid slowly open. He rolled his shoulders as though shaking off a weight and stared straight ahead. Mi sat in the cab next to him and wondered what she was in for. Every family had their share of problems and skeletons in the closet, she knew this all too well. But the way he’d talked about his grandfather was almost like a warning as though the man was still alive. She bit her lip, wondering if maybe this was a mistake. And then she got a look at the house and knew it was.

  Two and three stories high, the mansion rose up from the bricked drive like a great stone Phoenix with its wings spread wide. More than a dozen large, arched windows glowed from within as if they owned the power company and could afford to light every room at once. Lucas circled around a tremendous stone fountain set in the middle of the drive like a jewel in a crown and stopped the truck.

  Mi looked down at her blouse, peasant skirt, and sandals—perfect for a summer night out with friends—and wished she’d worn her one and only cocktail dress. Lucas’s clothes were casual, too, but of a much finer cut and quality.

  “You look great,” he said, breaking into her thoughts.

  “They do know I’m coming to dinner with you, right?” She looked up at the front door, massive and intimidating at the top of the stone steps. She was so far out of her element she wasn’t even sure she was still in Texas.

  He took her hand and kissed the back of it. “They know I’m bringing a guest.”

  “A guest,” she repeated, frowning over the formality.

  “How should I introduce you?”

  She looked at him then, unsure of her response. What was she to him? A friend? Sure. A lover? Most definitely. They lived together out of necessity not choice. They’d agreed to be exclusive, but they’d never been out on a date. What did that make them?

  “Guest is fine,” she replied.

  He climbed out of the truck, came around to her side and opened her door. He held out his hand to help her down. They climbed the steps side by side. Lucas pressed the doorbell.

  “Guest is stupid,” he muttered.

  “Lover? Bedmate? Fuck buddy? Friends with benefits?”

  He snorted and slung his arm around her. “Fuck buddy. I like that one.”

  A woman who looked to be about Mi’s age opened the thick door. “Welcome, Mr. Vega.” She stepped aside, motioning for them to enter.

  Mi tried not to gawk at all the splendor as they followed the woman through the foyer and deeper into the house. Dark wood, crystal, gilt, ornate, Italianate and all other kinds of –ate she could never afford glittered and gleamed. She kept her hands at her sides, holding her skirt, careful not to brush too close to anything.

  “Mrs. Vega is expecting you and your guest in The Rose Room,” the woman said over her shoulder.

  “Thank you, Carla,” Lucas said.

  The Rose Room Mi mouthed to herself, trying not to roll her eyes.

  They stopped at a set of paneled double doors, which Carla slid open for them. Carla stood off to the side to allow them to enter the room. “May I bring you and your guest a beverage?” Carla asked.

  Lucas looked to her. “Mi?”

  Mi always thought it best to face the worst sober. “Water, please.”

  Carla looked at her expectantly. “Still or sparkling?”

  “Sparkling, please.”

  “Of course. Mr. Vega?”

  “I’ll have the same. Thank you.”

  Carla bowed to them, then went off to get their drinks.

  Lucas placed his hand low on Mi’s back and ushered her into the room. The first thing Mi thought was why is this room not pink or covered in roses? The second thing was that she was woefully under dressed and under accessorized. But it was what it was so she plastered on her Pleasure at Home smile and rat
cheted up her determination that this would not be a disaster of epic proportions.

  “Lucas!” A woman with long, sleek, dark hair, and eyes like Lucas’s rushed over to him and gave him a hug. She pulled back and examined his face. “What happened to your forehead?”

  “Accident,” he replied.

  The three other women in the room turned as if one, then made their way over to them. An older woman about the same height as Mi, who could only be Lucas’s grandmother, patted and kissed him, murmuring in Spanish all the while. If it wasn’t for the tightness around his mouth, Mi would have thought he enjoyed her attention. Next came a woman who could only be his mother with threads of gray through her blue-black hair. Reserved in her greeting, she had tears in her eyes as she embraced him. The women continued to fuss over Lucas and his injury as though he was the king of the castle come home. Mi found herself wedged into a corner by their exuberance to be near him.

  “There’s someone I’d like you all to meet,” Lucas finally said, breaking through the chatter. He held out a hand to Mi, drawing her into their circle. He put his arm around her shoulders, bringing her up against him. “This is Miyuki Price-Jones… my girlfriend.”

  Mi suppressed the twitch of her lips that wanted to be a smile. For a heady moment there she thought he was going to introduce her as his fuck buddy.

  “Mi this is my sister Elisa and my other sister Carmen,” he said gesturing to the woman who had greeted him first and then to the other woman who was the tallest of the four Vega women. He continued the introductions. “My mother Isadora Vega and my grandmother Ofelia Vega.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Mi said, shaking each woman’s hand in turn.

  Lucas’s grandmother said something to his mother in Spanish, and his mother replied likewise. Elisa rolled her eyes, while Carmen nodded along with what was being said. Mi didn’t have to understand the words to know they were talking about her and not in a flattering way.

  Lucas’s face flushed, his body tensing against hers. “English please,” he said pointedly to his mother. “I know how tiresome you find rudeness.”

  Carla came into the room, carrying a tray with two glasses and served them to Lucas and Mi. After Carla left, Lucas’s mother dropped dramatically onto a nearby sofa with an exaggerated sigh.