by Kylie Brant
Cruz correctly read her need and he gave full rein to his own frantic desire. Sliding his hands beneath her bottom, he raised her to meet each of his thrusts, each deeper and wilder than the last.
Each movement increased her pleasure sharply, until suddenly the culmination hit her and swept her off the precipice. Cruz felt her climax, and it was enough to trigger his own as the pleasure careened through him. He jerked under the force of it, spilling his hot seed into her. The eddies went on and on, until finally he collapsed, gasping harshly.
He hadn’t protected her, the first time he could remember such a lapse. Even when he’d lost his virginity at the age of sixteen, or later, when the girls had become bolder, inviting him to test his rampant sexuality, not once had he failed to protect his partner. But instead of regret, he was filled with a fierce sense of pleasure. The image of Maddy, naked as she was now, belly round with his child, was too satisfying a picture.
It could have been minutes or hours before either of them moved. Then she gave a little gasp, and he became aware for the first time that he was crushing her with his weight. He moved to the side, throwing a leg over her to keep her close to him. He rubbed his face in her thick loose hair, tangled now from his hands.
Pressing a kiss to her earlobe, he whispered lazily, “I guess my mother was right when she helped me design this kitchen. You can’t ever have too much counter space.”
She nipped at his collarbone, satisfied at his flinch of pain. “You’re a wicked man, Martinez.”
A satisfied smile tilted his lips as he gazed down on her. “You’re about to see just how wicked I can be, given the right incentive.”
An hour later, lolling in the bathtub with him, Madeline was inclined to agree that he could be very wicked indeed. He had lured her into taking an innocent shower with him, one that had turned out to be not so innocent after all. Their second bout of lovemaking had left her sapped of strength, utterly boneless. Her hair had been soaked as they’d forgotten everything but the savage arousal that stole over them so effortlessly. Cruz bad insisted on washing her hair for her, and even now, sitting between his legs in the tub, back propped against his chest, her head was on his shoulder, and his hands were still massaging the shampoo rhythmically into her hair.
Her eyes were shut in sybaritic pleasure. There was something extremely arousing in the delight Cruz seemed to take in touching her. He was an utter sensualist; he reacted to the world around him through his sense of touch. She’d noticed that about him early on. And, if truth be known, at the same time she’d wondered what it would feel like to be touched by him.
Now she knew, and that awareness sent currents of pleasure skittering down her spine. At no time in her life had she considered the possibility that there would be a man with whom she could be completely, utterly herself. She’d never let herself dream that such a man existed. That would have been expecting too much, and Madeline Casey had spent her life lowering her expectations, lest she be disappointed. Finding herself now involved with such a man was more than she’d ever hoped for. It was also, quite possibly, the most frightening thing she’d ever had to face.
Her eyes came open to stare unseeingly at the wall. She was petrified. To take a chance caring about someone the way she did Cruz was to risk losing much more than she’d ever had to lose before. It would hurt more than she was sure she could bear. She was a strong person, she knew that. But it had been much easier to be strong when the stakes had not been quite this high.
She could feel the tension creep back into limbs that had, until a minute ago, been completely relaxed. It could all be gone in a second. If Cruz should find out about her investigation of him, their relationship would be over before it ever really had a chance to start. And more than anything else in the world she wanted that relationship to have a chance. Cautious hope bloomed in her every time she thought about the possibility of allowing herself to trust, to love a man completely. That hope was dashed each time she faced the bitter certainty that to tell him the truth would destroy her chances with him.
“What’s wrong?” His low voice sounded in her ear. He’d felt her stiffening, and wondered at the cause. For a moment his hands stilled, afraid in that instant that there would be a repeat of her withdrawal, as had happened the first time they’d made love. He knew he would not be able to react as calmly this time if that should happen. A baser, more primitive side of his nature would take hold.
But her answer the next moment banished that fear and sent relief coursing through his veins instead. “Nothing,” she whispered, snuggling closer against his chest. “Nothing at all.”
And as his arms wrapped around her, Madeline made a vow to herself. Cruz would never learn of her part in the investigation. She would make certain of that.
Chapter 15
Morning came damn early, Cruz groused silently as he followed Madeline down the spiral staircase. The sky was still gray outside, night barely lifted, the moon still visible. He resented the need for them to rise so early, resented that she had to leave him at all, even for a couple of hours.
He had it bad, he admitted, jerking a tennis shoe over a bare foot and lacing it up. Because, to be truthful, he wouldn’t like any reason that took Maddy from his bed.
Casting a careful eye at Cruz’s set expression, she correctly guessed his mood, if not the cause. “You wake up grouchy,” she noted. “I’m delighted.”
“I don’t usually,” he contradicted her. He finished getting dressed and they walked out of the apartment. “I just don’t like having to do this.”
“You don’t have to walk me to my car,” she informed him for what seemed the hundredth time. “I know the way.”
“Yes, I do have to walk you to your car,” he contradicted. “You’re not going to be out on these streets alone. But you’re partly right-the fact that I have to do it at all is what’s bothering me.”
Reaching her car, she grasped the door handle. “And what would you have me do, Martinez?” she asked teasingly. “Show up for work wearing yesterday’s clothes? Or, no, wait, maybe I could find something in your closet to wear.”
She rolled her eyes comically, but the thought remained to tantalize him. Somehow the thought of her wearing something of his, with very little else, of course, was a provocative mental image. But right now they had something more important to think about.
“What I would have you do,” he said seriously, “is to consider bringing some things over so that we don’t have to do these early-morning goodbyes again.”
His words startled her, even as they brought a rush of warmth to her heart. Bring some things over. That would give their relationship a taunting sense of permanence, implying that there would be many more times when she would wake in his bed. The thought suffused her with heat, and with trepidation. Despite the secret she was keeping from him, the possibility of spending even more time with him was too precious to jeopardize.
He interpreted her silence as unwillingness, and mentally cursed his timing. Now wasn’t the right time to discuss this. No, the right time would have been when she was in his bed, her body warm from his, her lips still moist from his kisses. He’d been half surprised by the words as they’d left his mouth, but the moment they had he’d realized just how long he’d been subconsciously waiting for this moment. He wanted to know that he would wake up beside her each morning, and go to bed with her every night. He wanted to be certain that her earlier wariness of getting too close to him was gone, and to be very sure that it would never recur.
He wanted, he thought ruefully, a lot of things. And judging by her lack of response, he wasn’t going to get all of them, at least not right away. But he was a patient man. He’d take a little step now and push for more later.
It was with that thought in mind that he lowered his head and sealed her mouth with his own. He caught her unaware, much as his suggestion had, and he took full advantage of her slightly parted lips. His tongue pressed into her mouth in a sure, smooth stroke and Madeline�
�s knees weakened in an immediate, involuntary response.
Her purse dropped to the ground as she reached up to slide her hands across his shoulders, gripping them for support as she returned his kiss achingly. He kissed her with shattering absorption, heedless of their lack of privacy. She didn’t know how he did it, how he could so effortlessly drive away every thought, every concern she might have, until there was no thought left at all, only an answering need.
When he finally raised his head and looked at her, he had to fight an overpowering urge to take her back to bed again. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes heavy lidded and glittering. And her mouth… his groin tightened as he noted the slightly swollen lips.
“You fight dirty, Martinez,” she said in a slow, drugged-sounding voice.
His mouth went to her neck. “Then you’ll consider my suggestion?” The sharp nip he inflicted was immediately soothed by his tongue, and her attention was divided between his words and the sensations that were racing through her.
“All right,” she agreed in that same husky murmur.
That voice had a direct reaction on him, and he had to step away from her to keep himself from reaching for her again. He leaned forward and kissed her lightly, being careful not to touch her anywhere else. He bent to pick up her purse and handed it to her. “Good.” His low voice rumbled. “Drive safely. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.” He waited until her car was driving away before a satisfied grin swept his face as he recalled what her words had implied. Whistling, he reentered his apartment building. He might as well finish varnishing the floor before he got ready for work. It would be an excellent way to work off his sudden energy, and to keep his mind off what she’d just promised.
Madeline had barely gotten inside her apartment before her doorbell rang. Sighing, she went to the door, and almost forgot to look into the peephole before she pulled the door open. That was a measure of just how much of an effect Cruz Martinez had on her, she mused as she stood aside to allow Ariel to enter. She seemed to be throwing all her caution out the window lately. And somehow she couldn’t bring herself to care.
“Well, well, if that isn’t a satisfied smile, I’ve never seen one,” Ariel drawled as she entered her friend’s apartment.
“Good morning to you, too,” Madeline answered.
“I was up early and saw your light. Thought I’d come over for some coffee. I called last night, but you must have been out until late. I can’t believe you’re up and dressed already, you’re a real early bird this morn-” Ariel’s chatter abruptly stopped as she strolled into the kitchen and noticed the coffeemaker wasn’t on. She frowned. One thing she knew about her friend was that she reached for a cup of coffee as soon as she stumbled out of bed in the morning. And since she was dressed, she must have been up for some time. She turned to survey Madeline, who was standing behind her, a resigned look on her face.
Under her nosy friend’s eagle eye, Madeline grew acutely uncomfortable. She reached up to push back her tousled hair, which had received only a quick brushing this morning, and that before Cruz had threaded his fingers through it when he’d kissed her. She tried for, and failed to bring off, a nonchalant expression.
“Madeline Katherine Casey.” Ariel pronounced each syllable deliberately. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you hadn’t been home at all last night.”
“I did work late,” Madeline tried lamely. She walked past her friend to switch on the coffeemaker. Suddenly she felt in dire need of fortification.
“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” Ariel said suggestively. “You must have worked re-e-e-al late. Like all night. Like the kind of overtime one doesn’t punch a clock for. The kind that has, shall we say, its own rewards.” She threw back her head and laughed delightedly. “Dare I hope that you were working with someone? And that the someone in question was one tall, dark, gorgeous Hispanic with the nicest butt this side of the Mississippi?”
Madeline couldn’t prevent a laugh at her friend’s outrageousness. “You’re incorrigible. And snoopy. You don’t see me running over to your apartment and prying into your life all the time, do you?”
Ariel slipped onto a stool at the counter. “Nope. ‘Cause you know there’s nothing there to pry into. And believe me, friend, if I had a guy in my life who was one-tenth the man Cruz is, you wouldn’t need to snoop. I’d be over here gloating, providing you with an instant replay.”
The coffee was ready, and Madeline used some much-needed moments to busy herself pouring a mug for each of them. When she handed one to her friend, she slipped onto a stool next to her. “Well, don’t expect me to do the same. I’m afraid my nature has always been a bit more modest than yours.”
“Then it’s true!” Ariel crowed. Madeline winced and sipped at her coffee. “You and Cruz are an item. Glory hallelujah! I have to admit, dear, that I worried you’d never let go enough to get involved with any man again, not to mention one as delicious as your Cruz. May I congratulate you on your impeccable taste, at least?”
Madeline suppressed a smile. “You may,” she agreed primly, and then ruined it by joining in her friend’s laughter.
“I knew it,” Ariel remarked in a satisfied voice. “The first time I saw him I thought, now there’s a man who could thaw Madeline out and show her how great being a woman can feel.” She reached over and patted her friend’s hand. “I’m happy for you. He must be some kind of guy to breach all your defenses.”
“He’s… persistent,” Madeline conceded.
“Good for him. He’d have to be. But he must have other qualities to have put that color in your cheeks. C’mon, Madeline. Isn’t there anything else you’d like to tell Auntie Ariel?”
Madeline drank the rest of her coffee and rose. “Nope. And I really have to get ready for work.” She got up, and for once Ariel took the hint and rose also.
“All right, all right, I’m going,” she said mildly, allowing Madeline to herd her to the door. “Don’t push, I’ll go peacefully.” She turned after she’d opened the door, and tossed a parting remark over her shoulder. “Do him a favor and wear something that will knock his socks off. Although I’m sure you’ve already more than accomplished that particular task.”
“You have such a dirty mind,” Madeline scolded, shutting the door on her friend. She could hear Ariel’s departing laughter. Madeline threw a quick look at the clock. She stripped on the way to the bathroom, and a minute later stepped into the shower with an appreciative sigh. She stood under the cascading water with eyes closed, enjoying the sensation. It was hard to perform the mundane task without images of the last shower she’d taken, the one with Cruz, crowding into her mind. Cheeks growing warm again, she hurriedly finished, and dried herself off briskly.
Standing in front of her closet clad only in her underthings, she perused its contents disapprovingly. Cruz was right; she did own an inordinate number of tailored slacks and jackets. And none of them suited her current mood. She finally decided on black pleated slacks and a black-and-white short-sleeved sweater. When it came time to do her hair, she left it loose for once. She surveyed her reflection in the mirror with satisfaction. It was a little more flattering than the no-nonsense attire she usually favored to work in, and it was still functional. She realized she had actually followed Ariel’s advice, and she winced. That was definitely a habit she didn’t want to start.
She reentered the dining area just as the doorbell rang. She gave a sigh of exasperation as she went to answer it. Fully expecting it to be Ariel, she opened the door, saying, “You know, I really don’t need your help. I can dress my-” Her voice stopped short when she saw her father standing before her.
“Madeline,” he greeted her urbanely. “May I come in?”
She stepped back from the door mutely. If it had been possible, she thought numbly, to pick the one person she would least wish to see at this moment, it would have been Geoffrey Casey. She closed the door and turned to watch him. He was surveying her tiny apartment with what she knew would be disapproval. He’d been her
e only twice before, and had made no pains to hide his feelings about her home.
“I don’t know why you insist on living in this dark, cramped place when you know I’d buy you a house anywhere you’d like. A condominium, even. One in a much better neighborhood.”
She sighed. She did not need this. Not this morning, of all mornings. She could feel her earlier contentment fade away. But oddly enough, she also felt more capable than usual of dealing with her father without losing her temper. There was something to be said for having everything you never allowed yourself to hope for come true. It did remarkable things for one’s control.
“This place suits my needs,” she responded evenly, as she had every other time he’d brought it up. He knew very well that she’d never allow him to buy her any such thing. She hadn’t touched the trust fund that she’d gained control over on her twenty-fourth birthday. Although she might want to use it someday, right now her needs were simple. Too simple, according to her father.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” she asked politely, forestalling any further discussion of her living arrangements.
“No, thank you,” he replied, walking into the living room and sitting on a chair. “I had some before I left the house this morning, and, of course, Mrs. Parks knows just how I take it.”
Madeline’s mouth twisted. After working for Casey for twenty-odd years, Mrs. Parks would know how to make the coffee, or she wouldn’t have lasted so long. Geoffrey Casey didn’t keep anyone around who couldn’t be of use to him in some way.
She sank into a chair facing him. “What can I do for you, Father?” she inquired. This early-morning visit was really quite out of character for him.