All Revved Up (Wicked Reads)

by Sylvia Day

  “We could have compromised.”

  “How?” she challenged. “Like Persephone and Hades? Six months in New York and six months here?”

  “Not a bad idea,” he said evenly.

  “You see why I knew we couldn’t talk about this?”

  “We’re going to talk about it.” He stood, lifting her as if she weighed nothing. He moved to the couch and settled with her still straddling him. “We’re going to make this work.”

  Her eyes stung. Everything was different now. Her family was financially stable; Miguel had proven to be as lovesick as she’d been all these years. Anything should have been possible. But it wasn’t. Because she’d kept a secret from him for too long, and now, no matter when she told him, it was too late. The damage was done.

  “Miguel—”

  He caught her face in his hands, holding her gaze to his. “I need you, Faith. I’m miserable without you. If you’ll work with me on this, bend a little, we can do this. Summer school breaks in New York, the rest of the year here. I can commute twice a week. Fly out Sunday and come back Thursday night. We’ll start out slow, give me some time to become a fixture in your life, let Michael get to know me and see how much I love you. How much I’ll love him.”

  Oh God. Her heart was breaking, crumbling into shattered pieces with every word he spoke. “There are things we have to talk about. Things I have to tell you.”

  He searched her face, his thumbs rubbing softly along her jaw. “Can we discuss it tomorrow? It’s going to be my birthday in thirty minutes and I want to be inside you when midnight rolls around.”

  “It’s not right for me to go to bed with you when this is between us.” Her heart was pounding, her palms damp. “I’d be taking advantage of you.”

  “Please do.” He brazenly stroked his cock through his pajama bottoms. “The morning is only hours away. Soon enough to clear the air.”

  He was giving her a reprieve she shouldn’t take. “This is important.”

  “So tell me.” Untying the drawstring of his pants, he lifted his hips—and her—to tug them down.

  “I’m not going to discuss this while you rock out with your cock out.”

  Catching her wrist, Miguel pulled her hand down and wrapped her fingers around him. “I can’t think when I’m this hard anyway.”

  He felt like warm marble in her grasp. She gave a tentative stroke and he groaned, tendons cording his neck. Her lips were suddenly dry and she licked them.

  Sliding of the couch, she kneeled between his legs and lowered her head.

  * * *

  Miguel watched with heavy-lidded eyes as Faith’s tongue darted out and licked the tip of his dick. She made a soft noise of pleasure and reached between his legs to cup his balls. His head fell back into the sofa cushion, his breath heaving in and out. The sight of her between his legs always drove him insane. Seeing those lush pink lips stretch around the thick head, watching her eyes grow dark with desire. As good as it felt, it was the knowledge that she loved pleasing him this way that made it so damn hot. She got off on his hunger for her, got off on knowing that he was absolutely defenseless when she had her hands on him.

  Tilting her head, she ran her tongue down the pulsing length of his cock, following the line of a thick vein. His hands fisted by his thighs. She swirled her tongue around the head, then fluttered the tip just beneath the crown.

  “Fuck. Faith, your mouth...”

  She gave him her mouth, parting her lips to take the top few inches into her.

  His back arched with a serrated groan. The drenching heat around the most sensitive part of him nearly drove him out of his mind. Her gentle fingertips massaging his balls just about rolled his eyes into the back of his head.

  “God, that’s good,” he gasped, his thighs trembling. “Yes, mi amor. Suck my dick. Ah... yes, hard and deep...”

  Her hot little mouth drew on him with rapid rhythmic fervor. Her cheeks hollowed on every pull, her head lifting and falling in counter-tempo to her fist pumping at the base. The pleasure was vicious, tightening around his spine and pooling at his lower back. The erotic sounds filling the room—her low moans of pleasure, the wet suckling, his helpless curses as he felt the orgasm barreling through him.

  “No more,” he growled, fisting her hair and lifting her head from his lap.

  Her hands tightened on his cock and balls. “Miguel—”

  “No.” He caught her wrists and urged her up. “In your pussy, mi hermosa. Deep inside you.”

  Pulling her onto the couch, he pressed her back, sliding his hands up her silken thighs and beneath her skirt. She was hot and wet for him, just from sucking his cock. He parted her with his fingers, rubbing her clit with easy gentle circles. She gasped and arched into his touch.

  With his mouth watering for her, he slid down and draped one of her legs over his shoulder; the other rested on the floor, opening her wide. She lay there, breathless beneath him, her pretty pink folds glistening with her desire. Her clit was hard and peeping out from its hood, silently begging for attention.

  “Mine,” he whispered. “All mine.”

  Surrounding the tender knot with his lips, Miguel worked it with the tip of his stiffened tongue, fluttering over it until she cried out and bucked into his kiss, coming hard and with such wild abandon he almost lost it.

  He pulled himself over her, keeping one of her lithe legs high against his chest. He plunged into her, growling at the feel of her climaxing around his aching cock. Gripping the couch arm for leverage, he powered into her, his orgasm catching the tail of hers and ripping through him. He was rocked by the force of it, his body shuddering so brutally he feared hurting Faith. He clutched her to him, holding her still, his eyes stinging as she held him just as tightly.

  “I love you,” she sobbed, her short nails digging into his back, where they belonged.

  Where he intended to make sure they would always be from this night forward.

  * * *

  Miguel woke to the sound of the Corvette’s purring engine. Stretching, he opened his eyes and looked at the place beside him where Faith should have been. She’d left a note written on the bed and breakfast’s letterhead, telling him she’d be back in a couple hours, which would still give them time to talk before they had lunch with Michael.

  Michael. The English version of his name. Faith would have known that when she picked it. He took some comfort in that small tie, what precious little he could glean from a situation that evidenced another man’s touch on her, a man who shared something profound—a child—with her.

  Tossing back the covers, he climbed out of bed. He had a lot to do before Faith returned. He needed to extend his time off and make sure the bungalow was open for the next couple of weeks. He needed to talk with his father about a work week in which he teleconferenced as necessary on Thursdays and Fridays. He’d need to purchase a car for his use in California and talk to his mother about his altered circumstances.

  In the end, after his shower, he headed to his mother’s first. He knew if he stayed away too much longer, she’d come looking for him, and the last thing he wanted was to be interrupted while enjoying Faith. He also wanted to talk with her about some of the things Faith had said. Meredith Santos had left her husband, whom she claimed to still love, to return to her hometown and raise her son. Miguel had been too hurt by the break-up as a kid to ask about it and later on it had seemed like none of his business, but now he saw parallels to Faith’s concerns. Any insight he could gain in understanding where Faith was coming from was very much worth it to him to explore. He knew what it was like to lose her; he didn’t want to live through that again.

  But when he turned onto the street where his mother’s very out-of-place mansion was located, it was just in time to see her pulling out in her silver Bentley.

  “Guess I’ll catch up with you later,” he murmured, deciding to head to the shop instead and reacquaint himself with Faith’s family. They were going to be his in-laws soon and the quicker everyone
got on board with that plan, the better.

  He followed his mother out of the residential neighborhoods and into town, just because they were heading in the same direction. As she turned into the parking lot of a drugstore, he slowed behind her by necessity, long enough that the classic Corvette in the parking lot caught his eye, as did the curvaceous woman beside it. Faith had changed into tight, low-slung jeans that showed off her magnificent ass and a black tank top that hugged her full breasts. He crawled by at a snail’s pace, staring like the lust and love-crazed fool that he was. When she lifted her hand and waved, he thought for a second it might be at him. Then he realized that it was his mother she greeted.

  Pulling into the next driveway, Miguel parked his rental in the first available spot and got out, seeing this as a perfect opportunity to reintroduce the two women in his life—the two Mrs. Santos. It was also a chance to make sure Faith wasn’t at the store buying condoms. Yes, he was moving fast; he always had. But they had a lot of years to catch up on.

  He was striding toward Faith when he spotted a lanky, dark-haired boy crossing the parking lot to her. She greeted him with open arms, while smiling at his mother, who brought up the rear.

  Miguel drew to an abrupt halt, his heartbeat thundering. The boy looked to be a teenager, but couldn’t be. He also looked too much like Miguel had at that age. Spitting image.

  Staring through unblinking, watering eyes, he watched as his mother rested her hand on the boy’s head while talking with Faith. Even with the mounting evidence, it wasn’t until the boy happened to glance at him that it all became crystal clear.

  Michael straightened, his direct gaze piercing right through Miguel. Frowning, the young boy took a jerky step forward. “Dad?”

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER 5

  “Miguel—”

  He turned to his mother with eyes narrowed. “How long have you known?”

  Meredith poured a cup of coffee and looked out the window over her kitchen sink. “Since two weeks before you left for Princeton.”

  Fury seized his chest, thankfully cutting off his ability to say the vicious things that were on the tip of his tongue.

  “Uh oh,” she said, turning to face him. “It’s never good when you become speechless.”

  “What the fuck do you expect me to say?!” He ran a hand through his hair, his pacing across the travertine floor growing more frenzied. “Christ. I had a right to know.”

  “And she intended to tell you.” His mother watched him move with her cat-like green eyes. She was still stunningly beautiful; her face still very much like it had been when she’d been a popular prime time television star. “As soon as you graduated.”

  “Why wait?”

  “She was so afraid she was going to ruin your life.”

  “And you didn’t absolve her of that bullshit notion.”

  “It wasn’t bullshit. She was a young girl, still in high school. She wasn’t going to be able to go with you. At that time in her life, she needed stability and her mother. You wouldn’t have left her, not like that. And even if we’d convinced you to go ahead for a year, you would have insisted she join you after the baby was born, which would have taken her away from her support system and jeopardized your studies.”

  He glared at her.

  “Too reasoned for you?” She waved one hand, so damn confident she’d done the right thing abetting Faith in keeping their child a secret. “I’ll be honest: when she first came to me, I thanked God for allowing you to dodge that train wreck. She had you by the balls with Michael. He was going to be a direct siphon into your bank account.”

  “You were always wrong about her,” he bit out. “I told you that.”

  “I couldn’t take your word for it. You were young, in love, and salivating with lust. It will sound clichéd, but I thought she had you in a sexual spell.”

  Spotting a framed photo on a shelf, Miguel went to it and picked it up. It was Michael as a toddler, beating two dandelions together in the garden and laughing. “Was this taken around the time I graduated?”

  “Yes.”

  “And still no one told me.”

  “That’s your fault.”

  He looked at her over his shoulder. “Excuse me?”

  “There wasn’t a single time you called or wrote where you didn’t extol the virtues of your latest girlfriend. It seemed clear that you’d moved on. Faith was terrified you’d take her son—”

  “Our son.”

  “Michael,” she corrected. “She was afraid you’d set up a homestead in New York with your society wife and she’d lose both you and your son.”

  “And you didn’t absolve her of that notion either!”

  “Why weren’t you honest in your correspondence?” she shot back, leaning into the counter. Even though she was unlikely to leave the house again, she was wearing a silk blouse, pencil skirt, heels, and a sapphire choker. “I’m your mother. You could have told me the truth.”

  He barked out a laugh. “While you were lying to me? While you were so heroically saving me from a gold digger, I was supposed to tell you I was wretched without her? That there were nights when I couldn’t breathe for missing her?”

  “Instead you deliberately fed me what you wanted her to hear, didn’t you?” Her voice and eyes were soft with compassion. “You wanted her to think that you’d already forgotten about her and found someone better, which made you adversaries for Michael. Pride did you both in.”

  The truth hurt as much as the lies. “Does Dad know about Michael?”

  “No. But Michael knows about you. He has a biased view, of course. Faith doesn’t see any of your faults. Well... that’s not true. She does see them, but she loves you for them.”

  God... how had they managed to fuck up perfection? What they had together...

  They had a son. Together. The family he’d always wanted with her.

  “I have to go.” He headed toward the archway that divided the kitchen from the living room.

  “Go easy on her!” she shouted after him.

  “I’m not done with you,” he shouted back, slamming the front door closed behind him.

  * * *

  He found her on the beach.

  Faith had known he would, when he was ready. They’d come here often in high school. With a blanket and boundless passion, they’d made love here more times than she could count. She’d like to think that love still lingered here, in memory, and that they could hold on to it and weather the storm. But that was a small hope amid big issues. There was so much between them now, so much she’d put between them. How could he ever look past it all? She knew how she would feel if she’d lost ten years of Michael’s life.

  She felt him approach without turning around. Miguel Santos was like a force of nature. In business or the bedroom, he swept through like a tornado, so exhilarating and dangerous. She waited with her bare feet dug into the cool sand and her arms clasped around her upraised knees. Wind whipped through her hair, drying her tears nearly as fast as they fell.

  He sat down beside her. “Where’s Michael?”

  “At the shop. I didn’t want him to see me like this.” She blew out a shaky breath. “I don’t want you to see me like this. I have no right to cry.”

  His hands curled into fists in the sand.

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly, her gut knotting at how cold and hard-faced he looked. She’d prayed never to see that look of betrayal on his face again. Something inside her died at the sight of it.

  “We are so perfect together.” He stared at the horizon. “And yet we fucked this up.”

  “I know.” More tears fell and she brushed them impatiently away. The waves crashed against the shore in rhythmic roars. Seagulls screeched overhead, their wings stretched to ride the powerful ocean breeze. She would forever associate those sounds with Miguel and the pure, untarnished love he’d once had for her.

  “We’re going to have to do better when we’re married.”

  Her gaze jerked back to
him.

  “Don’t look so shocked,” he muttered. “We know what we’ve got, what we’re willing to do for it. We just have to stop making decisions for each other without talking about things first.”

  Her mouth curved with self-derision. “You say ‘we,’ but it’s really me.”

  “Not true.” He reached over and took her hand. “I never asked you what you wanted. I just assumed you wanted the same things I did.”

  Her fingers linked with his. “We’ve got so much shit to wade through. How do we get to the other side of this?”

  “We need counseling, and we’ll get it. We’ll have to work on us for a while. Figure out how to compromise, discuss possibilities, get rid of resentments, and move forward as one unit. Piece of cake.”

  She laughed, but more tears fell. Turning, she pushed him back into the sand and straddled him. “So we forgive and we heal, and we learn to compromise and live happily ever after?”

  Propping himself up on his elbows, he stared up her. “Yes, mi amor. Is that so hard to believe? I can bend and you can trust. We can do this. We love each other to the point where we’re driven to do crazy things. If we put as much effort into staying together as we put into staying apart, we’ll be in great shape.”

  “You’re so certain you can make everything work out the way you want, aren’t you?” She was amazed love and hope could mingle so easily with pain and regret.

  He lifted one shoulder in an insolent shrug. “You love that about me.”

  Faith set her hands over his heart to feel its beat. “I do,” she agreed softly. “You lead the way, I promise to follow this time.”