by Mimi Riser
Tina almost choked on her own spleen, but ceased clawing. She'd get him later.
I'll kill you—very slowly.
Dave shot her another wink. “By the way, ma'am, just out of curiosity, how'd you know she was with me? Ah, you saw Giorgio and Angel downtown, and ... What? He made an illegal U-turn that almost ran you off the road? Yeah, well, that's Giorgio for you. I guess you remember it was Mario who taught him to drive. Uh-huh ... Boy, you're either a PI or a psychic.” He chuckled. “Very true. I guess with eight kids, you did have to be both to keep track of them. You're a marvel, Mrs. Molina. I'm glad you've still got such a great sense of humor."
Oh yeah, Mom was a five-star crack-up, always had been. Tina stuck out her tongue at Dave.
One of his eyebrows quirked up. He muted the phone for a second. “Are you trying to get me hot while I'm talking to your mother? Stick it out again later, babe, and I'll give you plenty to do with it."
I'll kill you very, very slowly. And horribly.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, what was that? Nope, ‘fraid I'm not married—yet.” His eyes slanted to Tina.
Oh God, she knew what he was thinking.
No, no! Leave my mother out of this, damn you. Cut! She made a slashing motion across her throat.
Dave ignored it. “I'm working on it, though—right now, in fact. I've asked your daughter ... Yep, really ... ‘Scuse me? ... Um, because I was a dickhead before. That's been pretty well established.” He sighed. “I'm trying to make amends for it, however. So, how would you and her father feel about us tying the knot? Yes, ma'am, I realize I'd be marrying her and not you, but it's still nice to have the parents’ approval, y’ know?"
Tina buried her face in her hands. Her mother would love to see her married. Nothing would please the woman more. Mary Morris Molina was one of those who thought everyone and their brother should be married.
And Dave would no doubt remember that. His trying to enlist her mother's support was calling in the big guns and playing dirty pool combined. Hell, he damn sure deserved it, but maybe she wouldn't kill him after all.
If Mom gets involved, it might be simpler to just kill myself...
"Well, the thing is, Mrs. Molina, she hasn't given me an answer yet. Any advice on what I can do about that? Uh-huh ... uh-huh ... I see. Very interesting. Yes, ma'am, it's certainly worth a try. I'll do my best. Thanks. I hope I'll be seeing a lot more of you in the future, too."
With one hand, he disconnected the call, and shoved the cell back in his pocket, then swiveled in his seat so his right leg was tucked up under himself and his back was against the driver's side door. Tina was already sitting in a mirror image of the pose on the passenger side. For a long, broody moment, neither did anything but stare at the other. Tina was the first to break the silence.
"That was a dirty, rotten, stinking trick, David Hammer."
He raised his hands, palms up, in supplication. “Tina, I couldn't lie and tell her you weren't with me. She already knew about the reunion. It was announced in the paper a week ago—not that she'd expected you to attend, since you'd never bothered with the previous ones. Neither have I, for that matter—except for the sixth when I got suckered into catering the reunion banquet. What a fucking nightmare that was.” He shuddered at the memory. “The club started out as an ordinary bar and grill, in case you didn't know."
"Fascinating,” Tina said, letting him know by her glower she found it anything but. “Am I supposed to be relieved or disappointed you haven't always been a professional pervert?"
"I was hoping you'd be impressed by my entrepreneurship. But if you find my ‘perversions’ more fascinating, that's fine with me.” He gave her a slow, toe-curling smile.
She resisted the urge to smack it off his face.
"Anyway, the big news is Angel and Giorgio are no longer here, so you're not going to be able to check on her. They must have left right after we did. Your mom saw them out cruising in his Jag, and the minute she did, she figured you couldn't be far off. You and Angel are like Siamese twins; you're practically glued at the hip. So, she called the school and found out you were registered for the reunion, but hadn't signed in yet. Then mother's intuition, I guess, made her ask the registration desk about me. When she found out I hadn't signed in yet, either, she put two and two together and called my club, which was how she got the number of my cell. If I hadn't told the truth, she'd have been worried and hunting all over town for you. Your mom's a very resolute and resourceful lady."
"Understatement of the year. But you still didn't have to tell her you'd proposed, damn it.” That was the dirty, rotten, stinking part. Her lower lip pushed out in a pout and she crossed her arms over her chest.
So did he.
What are we doing? Playing Mirror? Sheesh.
Tina bristled. “Are you making fun of me?"
"Huh?” He blinked in confusion, then, apparently, realized he was mimicking her pose again. A wry grin touched his lips. “No, babe, it was an unconscious gesture, I swear. I was just thinking ... mulling over your mom's advice."
Uh-oh ... And knowing her mother, that advice could have been anything and everything. The woman was slightly whacked. Having eight children could do that to a person, Tina supposed.
She heaved a gut-wrenching sigh. “Well?"
"Well, what?"
Should I strangle him now, or later?
"Are you going to tell me what she said? You could at least have the decency to give me a little forewarning, couldn't you? Some hint of what's coming?"
"Oh. That. Yeah, why not? You'll find out soon, anyway."
He tilted down his chin to gaze at her over his nose—a holdover from his days of wearing glasses, Tina knew. Did he have any idea how cute it made him look? Or was it only cute to her, who remembered those early days, and had thought him the cat's meow even then (to borrow one of her mom's favorite expressions)?
"What's ‘coming,’ sweetheart,” he said, “is you."
Say what?
Dave reached in his left pocket, fished out his handful of condoms, and seemed to do a quick mental tally before shoving them back. “I hope I brought enough,” he muttered.
Oh, crap...
"Your mom said, and I quote, ‘fuck the little smarty-pants till her eyes bleed.’ That's how your dad got her to say ‘yes'—or so she claims."
Wicked woman—traitoress—how could you turn over your only daughter to a sex fiend?
Tina would have thought he was lying, except that was exactly the sort of X-rated advice her mother might have offered. Mary Molina loved shocking people. It had been most embarrassing when Tina was a teen. It still was, come to think of it. She felt the heat of a blush rising over her chest and face.
The big question is what am I going to do about it?
That blue gaze, leveled like a laser beam on her, glinted with determination and more. He'd obviously decided to take Mom's advice.
He would.
She cast pleading eyes at him. “Davy, why do we have to rush into marriage? Can't we enjoy love just for its own sake?"
"Oh, I plan to enjoy it. A lot. But what's the point of waiting?” He started sliding, slowly, inch by inch, across the seat toward her. “Haven't we waited long enough already? If we love each other, we're going to end up married, eventually, anyway. Right?"
"Wrong.” The word came out on a harsh croak. The moment of truth was upon her, when she'd have to tell him. She swallowed, hard, and sucked in a deep breath to steady her voice.
"I'm not getting married. Ever.” She'd decided that years ago. “I saw what it did to my mom—saw how she had to sacrifice her own life for her family. That's not for me. I love you, Dave, I really do. I know I've never loved anyone else, and I doubt I ever will. I want you—as a lover, a friend, and a lifelong companion. But I don't want to marry you. I can't."
He halted his slide toward her, sat frozen half an arm's length away. “Can't? Or won't?"
"Both. It's a form of claustrophobia, maybe.” She glanced at her
hands, pressed palms together, in her lap, almost like she was praying. Ha, maybe she was. Praying he'd understand.
"It's just that I need to maintain my own identity. I don't function well in close quarters. I need space, room to breathe. I never had any growing up. With eight kids in a family, no one ever has any privacy. And with seven brothers, a girl can't turn sideways without someone stepping on her toes, checking up on her. They meant well, but they damn near suffocated me."
Surely Dave remembered how overprotective those clowns had been. Her gaze returned to his, searching for some spark of sympathy—finding, instead, a hard-eyed, tight-lipped statue. He wasn't making this easy, was he?
Well, too bad, because this was one point on which she couldn't budge. Independence and love were not mutually exclusive. Why couldn't they have both? She wasn't wild about the idea of a boyfriend who taught bondage classes, but she wasn't asking him to quit for her. She was willing to accept him as he was. If he loved her, he'd return the favor.
She hoped.
I really don't want to end up like Miss Sparrow...
"Davy, please try to understand. Don't make this worse than it is. I still want to live with you, but there's only so much of myself I can share. I need you, but I need freedom, too. If I get claustrophobic from time to time, I need to know I'm allowed to take off on my own for a breathing spell, without feeling guilty about it. Wives and mothers don't have that option—believe me, I know—so I can't go that route. I won't sacrifice myself on matrimony's altar like my mom did. I've fought too hard for my freedom to give it up."
"Uh-huh. I see."
Except, he looked like he didn't see a damn thing. His nostrils flared. A nerve twitched in his jaw. He looked angry, was what he looked. His teeth clenched with the effort to control it.
"So, you want to be free to still date other men. Is that it?"
Trust a dickhead to get it all wrong.
"No!” What kind of shallow bimbo did he think she was? Sure she'd played around, but the guys always knew up front her intent. She'd never misled anyone or offered more than she could give, never pretended deeper feelings than she felt. Love in a relationship made all the difference in the world, as far as she was concerned. “If I have someone I love, why the hell would I want to waste time messing around with anyone else? That's not freedom—it's stupid."
He snorted. “Why? For the sport of it, the variety, the swinger's lifestyle. Your lifestyle, right, Tina? A life you can't bear to give up? It's almost an addiction for some people. You think I don't know that? Shit, swingers are my club's best customers. I understand the mindset—I cater to it.” His gaze raked over her. “And I can damn sure recognize the type. Everything about you, baby, from your walk to your talk, spells s-w-i-n-g-e-r."
"Like you're not? Don't project your problems onto me, you hypocrite. I think you've been swinging so long, that's all you recognize. Do you even know what love is? It's all about possession and ownership to you, isn't it? Proving your power. Dominance."
She leaned into him, glaring, forgetting in the heat of indignation how the pose would push her cleavage right under his nose—never guessing how the sun streaming through the car's window behind her caught the auburn highlights in her hair and created a fiery halo around her head. Some women are beautiful when angry. Tina Molina was glorious.
"You don't want a wife, Dave. You want a slave."
"Bullshit..."
Something midway between a growl and a groan rumbled out. Muscled arms lassoed her—lifting, tossing—and before Tina knew quite how it happened, she was in the back of the Bentley, on her stomach, with Dave's hard body grinding her, lengthwise, into the seat. A rough whisper scratched her ears.
"You know, sweetheart, some would say you're scared of commitment, but I know better. I saw the friendship you and Angel had all through school, and it appears to still be going strong. That takes commitment. If Angel needed you, you'd be there for her, I'm sure, even if it cut into your space. You just can't commit to a man, where sex is part of the package, because you're afraid that might give him too much control over you. Sexual control. The idea scares you. But it stimulates you more, doesn't it?"
He wrestled her still when she struggled to squirm free. One hand burrowed beneath her and hiked up her skirt. Fingers slipped under the crotch of her panties, teasing, testing...
Tina moaned at the gentle and oh so titillating exploration. “I hate you."
"Yeah, I can tell."
Sarcastic son of a bitch.
But observant. She moaned again at the inescapable knowledge he'd discovered she was growing wet.
I hate me, too.
He shifted slightly to fish something out of his pocket. She heard the crinkle of plastic, the rasp of a pants’ zipper descending. His hips rose off her for a second, and she knew he was sheathing himself in a condom. In quick order, he shoved her skirt higher and tugged at the elastic of her panties. With a sharp pull, the wisp of silk ripped off, and she felt hot, hard male flesh press against her bare ass, felt his knees dig between hers.
"Open your legs for me, Tina."
An order. And from a man who sounded like he expected obedience.
Despite her disgust with herself, he got it. He could make her do anything he wanted, she was suddenly sure. Her insides turned to jelly. As though they had a mind of their own, her thighs spread apart. The head of his cock pushed into her cunt, then paused, motionless, while fiery shivers shook through her.
"Control yourself, sweetheart. There's a lot more where that came from. We're only beginning.” He slid an arm under her to hold her steady. “I'm going to fuck you now—slowly—and you're not going to cum until I give you permission. Understood?"
Her breath snagged in her throat, making her voice a wispy squeak. “You're raping me?"
"Nope, I don't think so.” A tender touch smoothed aside her hair, and he nuzzled the side of her neck. Warm breath blew out on her with his words. “It's only rape if you don't want it."
"I-I don't w-want it."
Shit, that could have sounded more convincing.
Her fingernails clawed the car's plush upholstery as his cock slid in another inch. She bit her lip to keep from shoving backward and driving him in farther.
"Then make me believe it. Tell me to stop, and I will.” To prove it, he pulled out of her. “All you have to do is say ‘no.’”
I can't.
Tina whimpered. Racked between passion and pride, it was the only noise she could manage.
Dave chuckled, a low sultry sound, close to her ear. “That's what I thought. You like being dominated in bed, babe, you're just afraid to admit it. It shames you because a part of you worries that, maybe, females really are the ‘weaker sex.’ That's what you learned growing up, wasn't it? Your brothers were all older, bigger and stronger than you. And you were always trying to be big and strong like them. You wished you were a boy, didn't you? That's the real fear. Deep down inside, you're afraid of being a woman."
It couldn't have stung more if he'd slapped her, and the realization he was at least partly correct made the hurt worse. She went rigid beneath him, her breaths short and shallow, wanting to strike back, to wound.
"And maybe you're afraid I'm just too much woman for you. Did you ever get over being that shy, insecure teenager the bullies tormented? That's why you play your dominance games, isn't it? You can't handle normal sex between normal people. You're too weak inside, too warped. You have to hold a woman down—tie her, whip her—to get your dick hard. That's the only way you can feel like a real man."
Dave turned to stone on top of her. A horrible silence filled the car. The silence of doom, pregnant and pulsing—ominous—like the eye of a hurricane, the eerie lull before the second half of a storm breaks.
Oh, God, what have I said?
The second the words were out, she regretted them, but it was too late to call them back. Feeling sick, she held her breath and waited. He'd either beat her bloody, or simply never speak to
her again. She couldn't help hoping for the former. Not because she liked being beaten, but because she liked less the thought of losing him. Just when she was about to turn blue from lack of air, he pulled back and rolled her over to face him.
Tina blinked.
He was smiling.
Smiling?
Yes. His beautiful eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter.
"Touché,” he said. “I guess I deserved that."
Her lungs deflated with a whoosh, and she refilled them with a deep breath of relief.
Dave leaned forward and rested on his forearms, caging her head between them. “Do you really believe any of that bullshit you just spouted?"
"Not a word. That was my temper talking.” She returned his smile.
"That's what I figured. And I don't believe what I said either. My temper has a big mouth, too. Fortunately, I get over it fast and so do you. We're a lot alike, y’ know. I guess that's why Miss Sparrow thinks we're perfect for each other. So does your mother, by the way."
"Sweetie, Miss Sparrow is a friggin’ fruitcake. And Mom is almost as nutty."
"Yeah, well, love is a nutty business. Maybe a little craziness helps. I know I'm crazy about you.” His abdomen pressed against hers, and his erection, which had lost a bit of ground, rapidly regained its previous proportions. “So, is everything okay now? We're all finished hurting each other?"
"God, I hope so."
"Good. Then you'll live with me, if I promise to give you plenty of space?” His face sank lower.
She sighed as his lips grazed along her jaw line. “I might not need that much space actually. I just need to know I have the option, if I do need it."
"You've got it. I'm not out to own you, sweetheart, just love you, for as long and as much as you'll let me.” He kissed the bridge of her nose. “I won't mention marriage again."
Tina chewed her bottom lip, thinking. For some reason, marriage didn't seem such an awful sacrifice anymore. Or was it just that the idea of marrying Dave, in particular, was sitting easier with her? Who you did it with undoubtedly made all the difference.
She slid her hands over his shoulders and around the back of his neck “Um ... we could maybe hang onto it as a possibility for the future."