“No, of course not.”
“Then what’s the problem.”
“I’m…touching you.”
His head jerked back. “And you don’t like touching me?”
“I—no.”
His face shuttered and his hands fell away. “Right.” He started moving off the bed and she grabbed his arm.
“You’re touching me, babe.”
Shit, shit, shit! “I—I misspoke.”
He waited expectantly.
She licked her lips and tried to explain. “It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s that I’m not used to it.”
He twisted her way. “You’re not used to touching me? Or men in general?”
“Both,” she said quietly.
He rubbed a hand over his face. “Fuck.”
“I don’t know what to do,” she added quickly. “Or where I’m allowed to touch you.”
His hands weaved through her hair to cup her head and pulled her to straddle him on his lap. “There’s no place you can’t touch me. There’s no wrong way to touch me.”
That couldn’t be right. There was always a right way and wrong way to do things. She was usually told that she did things the wrong way. “Okay.”
“Just go with your instinct, babe, and you can’t go wrong.”
She didn’t have instincts for this. “I don’t know.”
“What don’t you know, baby?”
“Anything.”
His hands tightened in her hair, then relaxed. “You ever been with a man before?”
“Not really.”
“Does that mean no?”
She nodded.
“Fuck.”
Oh. Maybe he didn’t like women who didn’t know what to do in bed. She’d certainly heard that before.
She tried to pull back, but he held her still. “Why are you pulling away?”
God, she couldn’t admit it out loud. “Just let me go.”
“Never, babe. Now, talk to me.”
She sighed. “I get it. You don’t want me now that you know I’m not…experienced.”
His fingers tightened on her hips, then relaxed. “Why would you think that?”
Her forehead crinkled. “Because you just got upset when you found out. You cursed.”
He huffed a laugh. “I wasn’t cursing because I hated it.”
He wasn’t?
He sat up, his chest coming flush against hers, his arms sliding around to press gently against her back, somehow avoiding her bandages and bringing her tighter against him. Her face was inches above his. She could feel his breath along her neck and chin while he spoke, a whispering caress that sent warmth flooding her body.
“I was cursing because I liked it. A lot.”
She whispered. “You do?”
“Oh, yeah.” His hands began rubbing her back, somehow still managing to avoid the bandages. Unused to someone touching her there, her back arched and tingled, as if she were being tickled.
“I want to be the first and only man you’ll ever have, and that means I gotta take care and go slow.”
First and only? What did that mean? He couldn’t mean…forever, could he? “You want to be my man? Forever?”
“Fuck, yeah, babe. Told you straight out I was into you. Held you last night and again this morning, which only made me want you more.”
“You didn’t have to hold me last night,” she blurted.
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Yeah, I did, babe. Since you were the one who curled into me, both last night and this morning, and wouldn’t let go, I didn’t have a choice.” He leaned forward. “Not that I wanted one. As soon as I got in bed either time, you moved against me. And when I tried to leave, you wouldn’t let go.”
She had? Shit! “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
She opened her mouth, then shut it. “You know, I’m not really sure.”
“Cute,” he muttered. “We’ll finish this discussion later, babe. Tell me first how you’re feeling.”
She did a mental check of her injuries and touched her face. God only knew what she looked like. “Everything hurts, but okay, I guess.”
“You want to take another pill?”
“Yes, but not until later.”
“Why later?”
“I’ve got stuff to take care of first.”
“What stuff?”
She tried to look away, but his hands shifted to hold her head. “Stuff.”
He blinked. “You need female shit?”
She blinked back. “Female shit?”
“Yeah. Stuff for your period.”
Oh. My. God. She was bright red, she was sure of it. “No.”
“You need Beth to help you out with something?”
“No, there’s just some things I need to do myself.”
His eyes narrowed. “Thought I made this clear yesterday, Amelia. You’re not alone anymore. And you really don’t need to rush off and do anything.”
“But—”
“What’s so important that you need to take care of it today, two days after you were attacked, robbed, and your apartment trashed?”
“I have to check on my apartment.”
“I can do that, baby.”
“I have to talk to the detective.”
“He said he’d call us.”
“I need to start working again.”
“That you most definitely are not doing. You’re living off the sick pay I’m giving you until I say you’re better.”
She huffed. “Hector.”
He came back to her, his hands moving into her hair again. God, she liked the way his hands felt.
He kissed her gently on the lips. “Baby, I told you that I’d do what it took to help you. This is me doing that, whether it’s keeping you safe from a dream, keeping you from hurting yourself by coming back to work too soon, or anything else. I’m going to take care of you, so don’t try to fight me on it.”
She relaxed into him. “Okay.”
“I’ll help you with the apartment and the detective. The detective wanted to see us this afternoon. I can give him a call and have him meet us at the pub. We can head over after you eat. Do you want to take another shower? I can call Beth.”
“Yes, if she’s free. She also said she was going to bring some more clothes for me. I’ll need those before I can leave.”
“I’ll call Beth and get your food ready. Take your time and come out when you’re ready.”
“Okay.”
Another kiss. She sighed when he pulled away and left her alone.
She spent a few minutes assessing her face in the bathroom—still dark and purple. Her ribs were still at a ‘holy shit’ level of pain, meaning they still hurt like a bitch and maybe even a little worse. How was she supposed to get around today? It was hard even breathing at times.
She shuffled to the kitchen, still hunching over slightly due to her ribs. Scrumptious scents assailed her nose—eggs, potatoes, and more. “Can I help you with anything?”
“No, baby. Take a seat. You up for coffee or tea or anything?”
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a cup of tea. Her body must be in withdrawal on top of everything else. “Tea would be great.”
“Milk and sugar?”
“Yes. One spoon of sugar and some milk. Thanks.”
She sat down and sipped her juice, and he brought dishes of food to the table along with a mug of tea. “Hector, this is too much.”
He smiled. “Not expecting you to eat all of it, Amelia. Eat some eggs—they’re just scrambled, nothing too spicy or hot—and take whatever else you can.”
She smiled back. “Thanks, Hector.”
“You’re more than welcome, Amelia.” He brushed a finger down her cheek, then sat down. “When you’re feeling better, I’ll make you something heartier. A more traditional Mexican breakfast, if you want to think of it that way. This is a sort of deconstructed version.”
She filled her plate with eggs
and a sort of potato hash, then added some slices of avocados and fruit. She hadn’t had so much to eat for breakfast in a long time.
After a few bites, she frowned and glanced at her waistline. If she kept eating like this, she’d gain even more weight. Yet, Hector said he didn’t mind her curves and that he even liked them.
“What’s wrong?”
She glanced up.
His lips were thin, his fingers fisted around his fork. “You look like you were just in a lot of pain.”
She was, all kinds of it. “Oh, I am, but I can deal with it.”
“Then what else is wrong?”
Should she tell him? Reveal how messed up her head really was? “I was thinking that if I kept eating like this, I’d probably gain weight.”
A look of disbelief crossed his face. “So? You look good with that body, baby. I like it. You gain weight, I’ll still like it, because it’s you inside that body.”
“Really?”
“If I lost an arm, would you still like me?”
What a ridiculous question. “Of course.”
“If they found some way to give me some kind of leg transplant and I got new legs, would you still like me?”
“Of course.”
“So, why wouldn’t I like you if your body grew or got smaller?”
Oh, she really liked that, but… “Your examples were more extreme.”
“Okay, then. I lose my six-pack, am I going to lose you?”
The mention of that six-pack reminded her of what said six-pack looked like and felt like. Her cheeks burned. “No.”
“Then give yourself the same respect you’re giving me, baby.”
Since that was a good answer, she didn’t respond.
After breakfast, Beth came by and helped her with another shower. This one went much quicker since she didn’t wash her hair. Dressed in new-to-her clothes, she finally felt ready to deal with the wreckage of her life. Well, as ready as she could be.
They started down the stairs, but it was clear that taking stairs with bruised ribs were still clearly not a good match; every step, every breath was painful. After a few slow steps, Hector insisted on carrying her down the rest of the way. She couldn’t say she minded all that much.
He put her down when they reached the street. After they entered the pub and made it through the vestibule, they were immediately swarmed by people.
Liz came rushing over. “Millie! How are you?”
Daley gave Hector a dude chin lift in greeting—why had that become the way guys said hello?—and then gave her one, too, as his eyes narrowed on her injuries.
Hector put a protective arm around her. “Let’s grab a booth first, all right? Any detectives come in?”
Liz shook her head. “None that I saw or who ID’ed themselves.”
Millie glanced around, her gut twisting as she saw the nearly full pub. Except for an area cordoned off, it was almost filled to capacity. She knew all too well what it was like to manage the whole floor on her own. “Liz, how are you managing all this? I can grab an apron and—”
“No!” three voices rang out at once.
She took a startled step backward, deeper into Hector’s hold.
“You’re not working, babe.”
“Liz’s alone on the floor.”
Liz waved a hand in front of her and made a ‘don’t even’ face. “I’m totally fine. The customers have been great and they’re fine with a little extra wait time. It’s a pub, not a race.”
Hector’s hand on her hip gave her a squeeze. “Not only that, but I’ve got some temp workers starting until you’re ready to go back.”
Millie narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t you mean until you say I’m ready to go back?”
He grinned. “Same difference, babe.”
“It is not.”
He leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear. “Like when you’re cute, baby, but maybe don’t do it in front of an audience. I get all kinds of ideas when you’re cute and I can’t follow through on any of them right now.”
Her breath caught; she’d completely forgotten there was a crowd of people around them, several of them with their eyes on her.
Oh, man.
She turned back to the group, all of whom had their eyes on her and Hector and all of them with smiles.
Her gut clenched in embarrassment.
“I see Tanan. He’s in the back corner.” Hector pointed across the pub. “We’ll catch up with all of you before we leave.”
They said their goodbyes—Liz added a wink, which Millie found annoying—and headed over to meet him.
The detective rose as they approached. “Miss Asti. Mr. Perez. How are you today, Miss Asti?”
“Okay.” She sometimes wished people would only ask that question if they really wanted to know the answer. Then again, how many times would she really want to give an honest answer anyway?
The detective nodded, and they sat. “We spoke with Officer Sullivan and we’re up to speed. He’s actually one of the leads of the investigation into the thefts.”
Hector leaned back and put an arm across the back of her chair. “It is standard for an officer to handle something like this?”
Tanan shook his head. “Not typically, but our Captain’s approved it. He has insight that’s proving very useful.” Tanan’s gaze shifted to her. “We’ve found one of the men. Does the name Peter Good—G-O-O-D—mean anything to you?”
She definitely recognized the last name but not the first. Her face scrunched as she tried to remember. “Piers has the same last name, but I don’t remember hearing him mention a relative named Peter.”
“Peter is apparently your other half-brother.”
“Oh my God,” she breathed.
Hector’s arm shifted from her chair to hold her hand.
“Did you know you had other siblings?”
Another one. There was another ‘Piers’ out there…another one of her father…Oh God.
“Amelia.”
She turned to Hector. “There’s another one.”
His hand squeezed hers tight, tight, tight. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“You weren’t aware of any other siblings?” the detective pressed again.
Wasn’t it obvious? “No. I thought there might be. Our father slept around a lot, from what I heard, but Piers was the only one I ever met. Oh God. He attacked me?”
Tanan nodded. “Yes. We pulled his prints—and those of your father—from your broken displays from the fair. We captured Peter near his apartment, if you can believe it. He honestly thought we wouldn’t look for him there, so after our initial sweep of his place he went back. Fortunately, we had it under surveillance and captured him as he tried to enter.”
That sounded like a brother of Piers. Oh jeez.
Tanan whipped out his phone and brought up a picture, then turned the phone towards them. “Do you recognize this man?”
“Oh my God. It’s Rob!”
Tanan pulled the phone back. “How do you know him?”
“He…he used to work here. Not now, but back when Piers still owned it and it was called the Royal Court. Oh my God.”
Tanan turned to Hector. “He didn’t want to stay on when you took over?”
Hector shook his head. “No. If you’ve read the incident reports, you know what went down the day we took over the place. Piers attacked Amelia, tried to attack the prince. Rob just stood by and didn’t intervene. I have a zero-tolerance policy for bullshit like that. Someone needs help, you help them. I gave him the option to stay on in a probationary capacity if he wanted to prove he wasn’t that kind of guy; he declined and left.”
Something dreadful just occurred to her. “What’s Rob got to do with all this?”
“I’m sorry to say he was involved in the attack as well. He was the third man and the third set of prints we found.”
She flattened herself against the back of the chair, pushing it back in the process, as if moving away from the table would move her away from this
situation, away from the people who’d hurt her. “Oh God.”
“Amelia. Amelia, baby.”
Hector’s hand on hers was her anchor, keeping her steady, keeping her from full-on panic. What had she ever done to deserve this?
“Nothing, baby. You haven’t done one single, goddamn thing to deserve this.”
Shit. She’d said it out loud.
Her eyes met his as he brought her hand to his for a kiss. “We’ll get through this, all right? It’ll be okay.”
You’re safe with me.
You’re safe with me.
You’re safe with me.
His words rang through her head on a loop. She could be safe with him. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her. He was falling for her.
She was falling for him, too.
She wanted to crawl into his lap, let his warmth and arms surround her.
Maybe he read that in her eyes. Maybe he just sensed it with his Hot Man powers. Either way, he did the closest thing to it: he wrapped a hand around her nape and pulled her forehead against his.
He brushed his nose against hers and whispered. “It’ll be okay.”
She let out a short breath. “I know.”
“Do you?”
She nodded, and their noses brushed again.
“Good.” He gave her a soft kiss and pulled back, then turned to Tanan, who’d been silent through their moment. “So, what’s being done to catch the other two? What about Piers?”
“We don’t have a location on any of the others at this point, including Piers. All of their known hangouts have been abandoned, though we’re revisiting them sporadically in case they try to return. Because we’ve exhausted other venues, we’re organizing a sting. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to speak to you, Miss Asti. We want to draw them out. If not all of them, then perhaps just Piers at first, who we could then put in the same prison as Peter. We believe they’ll start to work together and communicate with your father, Paul.”
Ugh. Paul, Piers, and Peter together. From what Piers had mentioned, their father always wanted his kids named similar to him. In that moment, she was thankful her mother had rebelled against Paul at least once in her life to give Millie a non-P name.
Hector locked eyes with Tanan. “You’re thinking to hold the sting here?”
“No!” Millie said immediately, and apparently too loudly as heads turned in their direction. Hector would be in danger, along with everyone else. “Not here.”
Rush (Hector & Millie) (Seaside Valleria #1) Page 25