by Leanne Davis
“You think I easily accept it because I’m somehow programmed to do that?”
“Yes.” His fingers trail down my face and he steps infinitesimally closer as his hand slides up to my hair. “I think you’ve been trained to believe you can’t stand up to this guy. You hurt his ego and consequently, you deserve some kind of punishment. What if things were reversed? He’d just avoid your calls and expect you to cry yourself to sleep, without seeking revenge or inflicting some kind of punishment on him.”
Maybe he has a point. I don’t know. I’m too confused by the rushing blood in my ears. It drowns out everything rational. My skin flushes and my breathing matches my racing heart rate. And it’s all from his close proximity.
“No one should touch you unless you want them to, or use their strength and power to intimidate you. You tell me to back off what I’m doing right now, and I’ll back off. You don’t want my hands in your hair, just say it and I’ll remove them, right now. No questions asked. That’s how a man is supposed to treat you.”
I almost panic. Is he simply making a point? Is he suddenly so close to me, touching me, strictly to illustrate some kind of point? When I was thinking… feeling… contemplating… something so much better, like mutual sexual attraction. Because that’s where I’m at. His sensual voice is describing what his hands are doing to me, and it’s a huge turn-on. He’s got to know that. However, his point is powerful too. Either way, I’m putty in his hands.
Licking my lips, I say, “Are you trying to prove what you’re saying to me?”
His gaze meets mine, and he turns away. “Do you want that to be the reason?”
Silence. Heat radiates from both of our bodies. I can’t be imagining this. “No,” I whisper.
“I’m not. But if you want me to back off at any time, I will… I would.”
My breathing is shallow. I feel anxious but I can’t articulate the reason why. “No. I don’t. I want…”
He leans in closer to me, his mouth right above mine, his breath warm on my face. “What?”
“I’m not entirely sure.”
“I’m going to kiss you.”
I nod, my eyes fastened on his. I might even resemble an owl, my eyes are so wide with astonishment. His head closes the gap between us and his body bends lower to come closer as his arms surround me, pressing me into the counter. His mouth is soft on mine and I nearly whimper at the barely-there contact. My bones turn to rubber and practically melt at the sensuous connection. His hands grip the counter on both sides of me and his hips press into mine. He physically blocks me in and the ripple of power through his muscles and body is evident, but it’s entirely different than Harrison. He kisses me and lifts his head as his dark eyes evaluate me. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but I stare right back. He leans closer and this time, his lips press harder on mine. I’m responding in kind to meet the passion of his kiss. Our mouths open and when his tongue tastes mine, our bodies seem to come alive. He presses me further into the counter and I respond just as hard, pushing back. His arms leave the counter and wrap around me, holding me even tighter to him. His hands brush over my back and move down towards my butt. He squeezes me and I respond by opening my mouth to his more. It’s so good. My insides turn hot and heavy with desire.
We kiss on and on. His hands eventually come back up and cup my face as he leans further over me, kissing me as deep and long and intimate as I can ever remember. My breath is lost and my heart feels weird. I know he’s as turned on as I am and my entire body burns for more.
Then his mouth retreats and slows down as I move towards him, grabbing his shoulders. I want to follow the sizzling heat of his mouth. He stills completely, tightly pressing my body into the counter. He drops his hands and lifts his head, wrapping me up in his arms and holding me tightly against him. Our breathing is labored, and matching as if we’ve just sprinted across the finish line of an important race. I don’t want to stop. I’m shaking with desire and the intensity of it thrills me. Irrationally, I get angry when he suddenly stops what he started.
“We’re in your parents’ kitchen,” he slowly mumbles. I feel his lips in my hair and along my hairline.
The comment deflates me. I forgot where we were and who could find us. Oh so easily anyone could find us. The wild sexual balloon that surrounded my body bursts. My desire and heat start to cool down. “I forgot,” I mumble. My face is pressed into his neck. My lips move on his skin as I speak. I go up on my tiptoes and press my lips on the soft skin of his neck.
He leans into my mouth and moans. “Stop, Emily. Your parents…” but his words are lost as his mouth dips down onto mine.
We embrace and kiss for several minutes more. He pauses and steps back, keeping his hands pressed just above my elbows as if to hold me off him. His face is as flushed as mine, and he’s every bit as turned on. His breathing is labored. My pulse is racing.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?” I ask with a small smile on my face. A smirk. His grin is just as flirtatious.
“In every way you can imagine. And you know it.”
I try to step closer. I don’t remember doing anything flirtatious, bold or slightly sexual with Harrison. I’m as floored by taking this role as I am pleased to be doing it. My hand reaches down and touches him, and his eyes pop open even farther. He doesn’t, however, push me away. “I’m getting an idea of how much,” I say, glancing up at him with a salacious smile on my face. I all but lick my lips.
“Emily…” His voice is strained as I slide my hand up and down the rough, thick material of his pants. It’s like torture. I can feel him, but it’s very blunted. He must feel me too but not in high definition. His eyes close and his mouth comes right back to mine as he pulls me closer instead of pushing me away. But not so close that I have to remove my hand.
His hand moves from my arm to my chest. His hands are big enough to grip me by the side. I feel his fingertips against my back and his thumb along my front. He slowly moves it to slide his thumb across my hard-as-a-pebble nipple. It’s so good, I lean into his touch and our mouths reengage as if we never stopped.
Again, he rips our mouths apart and his hand leaves mine. “Not here.”
I shake my head in resignation and give up, resting my head against his chest as we both try to regulate our rapid breathing. His arms surround me again and this time, I do it back. We’re in a tight bear hug and I don’t want to let go. It feels so good, just like all the flirting. And our conversations. And his funny, little text messages that make me feel special because they are so random and come in at odd times of the day. It’s as if he wants to let me know he’s thinking of me. And his gaze also makes me feel good. And this. This makes me feel better than anything.
“When did this happen?”
“I don’t know,” he answers. “I thought you didn’t see me like this.”
“Me? What did you think I saw you as?”
“A pathetic immigrant you had to protect from the big, bad, white boyfriend.”
“You thought… think I don’t see you as attractive because you’re an immigrant?”
“Yeah,” he says with no lack of confidence. “And being an illegal one is the deal breaker for most.”
“It’s not a deal breaker.”
He shuts his eyes and shakes his head. Sighing he says, “I don’t understand you. Why isn’t it?”
“I find you attractive. I have from the very first. Even on my wedding night. When you were taking off my wedding dress… It was a sensuous feeling but also confusing, considering you were a stranger and taking off my wedding dress. You felt that, too?”
“Yeah.” His hands dip down to my lower back, as though triggered by the memory. “Yes, Emily, from the very start. I felt it, too.”
I close my eyes. “I’m right here, wanting you. If not for it being in my parents’ kitchen…” His chest moves in a soft chuckle, so I add, “I don’t care about anything else. We can figure it out… whatever happens or doesn’t happen.”
; “Nothing is going to happen with that. But not many women would say that, knowing what you do.”
My heart expands. “If… anything ever happens… because of it…” How do I say this without sounding insulting?
“You mean my ass getting caught and deported?”
I swallow. He’s always so in my face with the truth. I like it though, even if it makes me uncomfortable. I think it could make me face the realities of life a lot quicker than trying to be so nice all the time. “Yes. That. I would…”
“What? Come see me?”
“Yes,” I state, standing up taller. “Yes. I would. Because I can.”
He sighs. “Why do you have to be so damn nice and so damn decent?”
I lean back so I can look up at his face. His eyes closed and then open. “You can’t choose to have an illegal immigrant as your boyfriend. That’s stupid, Emily.”
“I like you enough. And I have no idea what this is or where it’s going, I’m just saying, I won’t try to stop it or deny my feelings based on that.”
“I have to go.”
“You mean run? Why? Are you scared of me?”
He still hasn’t let me go. He tries awful hard to get me to not like him.
“Because there are so many reasons.”
“No.” I stop him dead, putting my hand over his lips. “There aren’t.”
He sighs and leans his forehead on mine. “I’m going now. I’ll let you decide what the hell this was.”
Then he pushes me back and turns before I can even get my balance. He crosses the room in long, purposeful steps. I have this crazy urge to not let him leave. Why is it so strong? Crazy, impulsive behavior is not like me. It’s more Melissa’s personality, but never mine. It’s logical for us to step back, take some time, and think about it. I refuse to panic because I simply don’t want him to leave. I go after him and close the front door behind me.
“Ramiro,” I say loud enough to grab his attention. He stops dead without turning towards me. His shoulders fall just slightly forward. “The timing is bad because I’m supposed to be grieving. But the day I walked out on Harrison, I was already over him. I have feelings for you. Big ones and I don’t know what they mean or what I want them to mean, but I have them all the same. It feels crazy and too fast and all that, but I’ve never felt anything like this before.”
His head bends forward and he suddenly spins around and comes back to me as fast as he left. He folds me up in his embrace so I’m pushed into the front door. His mouth captures mine and his tongue plunges inside. His hands are in my hair, swirling it around and messing it up. It’s wild and hot and I moan into his mouth as his body shifts against mine.
He pushes off me, spins around and says, “If this happens, it won’t be against a door.”
Then he leaves and I’m nearly pulsating with lustful thoughts, and smiling in desire. I’ve never felt more like a woman than I do right now. He smashes through my calm, even reserve and I’m discovering an Emily I’ve never experienced before. All my careful planning seems so dull and misguided when compared to the hot, vivid feelings Ramiro inflames in me. Where it will go or become, I don’t have the answer. Perhaps that is the biggest draw of all.
~Ramiro~
I’m not playing her. My hands shake as I grip my steering wheel tighter and leave the Hendrickses’ house. I almost can’t force myself to leave. I’ve never had that kind of pull towards anyone before. No one. Not where I can’t bear to leave. Or touch her. It wasn’t just sex. I can leave sex. That was… crazy. Hot. Intense. Needed. I’m shaking with need for a girl whom I just now realized I have strong feelings for. But it’s all so wrong.
I don’t get her family either. There I was, pretty much stating my status as an illegal alien here and they don’t care. They don’t even flinch. They don’t give me a snooty look or even a suspicion of why I came here. They are strictly concerned about Emily, and now, me because I tried to help her. That’s what they appreciate.
Even fucking Will. I have no idea what to do with that.
It makes me want to scratch my skin. It’s wrong. They seemed so concerned about me. I don’t want them to be. The dynamics here don’t fit in with my plan. Will’s daughter is quite pregnant with another Latino’s baby. I see nothing but affection and comradery between Will and Max, which is stunning in itself. I thought he’d act like an entitled asshole. After what he did and the people he did it to, but no. He is surrounded by Mexicans. From his imminent grandchild to his son-in-law and Jessie’s daughter, Natalie, and her kids.
They voiced no objection to my being there. There wasn’t one conversation advising me to leave or go back to where I came from. I’m amazed by the ease with which the family accepts my presence. It might just explain Emily’s acceptance from the start. All the shit I gave her never fazed her. She was nice and open-minded, accepting and unafraid of anything different from her, which I assumed she would not be.
And then I kissed her. Not in the plan. I’m not playing her, even if I wish I were. I wish it were all fake and I was just an excellent actor. But neither is true. I meet Will Hendricks, work for him, enter his house and if I didn’t know about his crimes, I’d call him fair and decent. Just as he raised his youngest daughter to be.
I’m going to hurt her, no matter what. Starting with the first lie I told her and ending with the last. She doesn’t suspect it. She believes me with all her heart and doesn’t care. What girl would ever contemplate adding a guy like me in their life?
Well, none other than Emily Hendricks, the daughter of the man who crippled my father. On purpose. How did I get in this situation? What kind of man am I if I abandon my intent for coming here? Will I so easily waffle on it now that a pair of big brown eyes and a sincere, sweet smile have obscured the mission?
And when I get home, how do I fight this? Change it? Do I cut off contact with her? Oh, no. No. I do the opposite. I text her. I text her one of our stupid facts of the day. Fingernails grow four times as fast as toenails and scientists don’t know exactly why.
Why do I do such a thing? Because I think it’ll make her laugh at the ludicrousness of it and I like picturing her smiling. I crave contact with her.
She instantly responds with a string of heart emojis and my heart lifts knowing she wants me to contact her as much as I want to. I throw my phone down in complete self-loathing. Yeah, real hard-ass. My dad was right about that. I’m not. I never was. I’m his greatest disappointment.
I keep wondering though, as I start undressing before I crawl into bed. I’m thinking about Jessie Hendricks’s story and what my father had to do with it.
That’s something I never once considered until this exact moment. And now that I have, has my brain shut down in repulsion and rejection? No. No. No way. My father didn’t rape Emily’s mother. No.
Never. No.
But I lie there for hours just staring up at the stained ceiling over my head and all I can do is think about Emily. How she felt in my arms. How she kissed me. How I kissed her, and how all I wanted to do now was do it all over again. And how is it our parents are so connected? How can it be I’m falling for the one girl that I set out to lie to and use? Now, I don’t want to do any of those things and I don’t know how to undo what I already started.
Chapter Ten
~Emily~
My mom comes out and kisses my head as she passes me. I continue crunching on the cereal I’m eating. She smiles as she starts some coffee. “I don’t know how you get by without drinking some caffeine in the morning.”
“It’s a drug, Mom,” I smile. We’ve carried on this mock argument for years. She holds up her half-filled cup, too desperate to wait for the coffee maker to finish spitting out even a full cup of coffee. “Here, here. It is. Best one in the world.”
I smile again. She shifts forward, leaning on the counter. “So last night was kind of intense.”
“Yes.”
“Ramiro? How come I’ve never heard that name before?”
�
��Because I was afraid you might think I lost my mind. I was just about to marry another man.”
“So, not just friend?”
“Not at all. At least, I don’t think. I don’t know.” I throw my hands up. “It’s so new for me to even be questioning it. We’re friends. Not for a super long time, but long enough to know I really like him.”
“He’s cute.”
“He’s not a legal citizen.”
“I gathered that.”
“Comment? Question? Warning? Reproach?”
“It is something you’ll have to address at some point. But a lot can happen between now and when that point will be.”
“I’m surprised you and Dad aren’t more discouraging toward him.”
“I think whatever transpired last night put him solidly in a good light with your dad.”
“Yes. That.”
“Yes, hon, that. So you like this kid and Dad trusts him to take you to your sister’s. Why not go? Not often is your dad so supportive about a guy hanging with one of his daughters.”
I smile. “No. He wasn’t very warm towards Harrison.”
“He was no fan of Harrison’s. Thought he was too uptight. Nice enough, but too lacking in personality for you.”
“He thought that?” My mouth hangs open in surprise.
She shrugs. “I know. I liked him more than Dad did. He had his own reservations since you never dated anyone else. He actually said to me once, there were no sparks between you two, so how could you hope to make it through the hard times?”
I press my lips together, trying to hold back my laugh. “Dad mentioned the lack of sexual tension between my boyfriend and me and said he was worried it wasn’t enough to sustain us in marriage?”
“Yes. Pretty much. He can be surprising still.”
I study my mom. Yeah, I know they have that spark, that connection, whatever you want to call it. It’s still there, all these decades later. “I’ll go if you let me talk to Natalie about her adoption, and how she feels after considering the circumstances surrounding her birth.”