The Christmas Present

by Tracy Wolff

  “Tell me you want me,” he whispered as he pulled her back up his body. He licked his way over every inch of her—down her breasts to the nipples, over the flat plane of her stomach, down the silky sweetness of her thighs to her calves and back up again.

  She moaned yet again. “I want you,” she breathed, her entire body taught with desire. “I need you. Rafael, oh God, I need you so much.”

  “I’m here,” he answered, lifting his face to look her in her eyes.

  “Please,” she said, and barely recognized herself. When had she ever begged for anything? Never. But he had a power over her that couldn’t be denied.

  He snagged his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans and grabbed a condom. Quickly rolling it over himself, he reached between them and flicked a finger over her once, twice.

  Her fingers clutched at his shoulders, her body wildly arching against his. He plunged into her, moving hard and fast against her, intensifying her release, building toward his own.

  Leaning down, he drew her nipple into his mouth. Sucked hard as he continued moving inside of her. He was close, so close he thought he’d explode any second. But he wanted to make this last, needed to be inside her forever.

  She was sobbing, her hands tangled in his as her body shuddered. “Please, please.”

  “That’s it, baby. Let me feel you.” His words were strangled as he moved faster and faster, loving the warm, wet feel of her muscles clenching around him. He lowered his mouth to her breast again, sucked hard even as he reached between them and stroked her.

  Vivian cried out, her body bucking against him as another release—more intense and out of control than the first—ripped through her. He rode her through it, took her higher until nothing existed but the rolling pleasure that went on and on. Grabbing her hips, he tilted them until she was open fully to him.

  He was going to lose it, couldn’t hold back any longer, had to—With a groan he came. The world went dim and he was lost totally to the insane pleasure overloading his senses. Immersed in the waves of sensation sweeping through him. he was dimly conscious of Vivian’s body convulsing again, milking him as he emptied himself inside of her.

  When it was over he collapsed on top of her, breathing in harsh, ragged gasps. He knew he was too heavy, but at the moment couldn’t summon the will to care. Or to move. Her arms wrapped around him so sweetly that for a moment, just a moment, he found surcease from the doubts that chased his every waking hour.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  FOR THE FIRST TIME that she could remember, Vivian woke up with a hot, hard, male body wrapped around her. Sunlight was just beginning to filter in through the crack in her drapes and when she turned her head, she found Rafael was still asleep.

  His eyes were closed, his tough mouth relaxed, and she realized he looked more vulnerable than she’d ever seen him. She ran a palm over the rough stubble of his jaw and simply enjoyed the feeling of being next to him. Being with him.

  Last night had been…She stopped, unable to find the words to describe it. It had been incredible, she decided. Wonderful, magnificent, amazing. Not that she’d had a lot to compare it to, as she’d had only two lovers in her life, and both had been chosen more for their unthreatening, soothing manners than for their sexual prowess. But a girl knew quality when she found it, even if it was packaged differently than what she was used to.

  Because while being with Rafael had been a lot of things—wild, fierce, emotional—the two things it hadn’t been were unthreatening and soothing. She’d never been backed against a wall before, never had a man look at her like she was his whole world.

  He made her vulnerable in a way that worried her. When he made love to her he paid attention to everything, every shift in breathing, every squirm, every sigh, until he knew her body as well as she did.

  She still wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

  She tried not to let it go to her head, tried to convince herself that it was just the sex that had her feeling so in tune with him, but her heart didn’t want to listen, and she cuddled closer to Rafael. Smoothed a hand over his brow. Dropped a kiss on his soft, relaxed lips. And hoped, desperately, that she wasn’t making the worst mistake of her life. If this turned out badly, she didn’t think she’d ever be able to open herself up again. Didn’t think she’d ever be able to trust again. She was already taking a terrible risk, trying to believe him about his past. If it turned out she was wrong, she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to forgive herself. Or him.

  He stirred beneath her, stretched, and then his eyes popped open as if he’d just realized whose bed he was in. Her heartbeat started racing and she held her breath, waiting to see how he reacted to being with her as daylight slowly streamed through the window.

  But he only smiled and wrapped one big hand around the back of her neck. “Good morning,” he murmured as he drew her to him.

  “Good morning.” She started to ask if he wanted breakfast, to tell him he could use the shower first. To say any number of things, but then his lips found hers and she was lost, any and all words flying right out of her head.

  As she sank into him, Vivian realized this kiss was different than any that had come before. Even through her whirling head and pounding heart, she felt the tenderness in the kiss. The sweetness. The belonging.

  This wasn’t the kiss of a couple of careless nights, or even a one-or two-week relationship. This was the kiss of a lover who cared about her, who wanted the best for her. Who wanted her. Relief swept through her, along with a warm rush that felt a lot like love, and she gave herself over to the kiss. To her lover.

  To Rafael.

  It was one of the hardest things she’d ever done—deliberately choosing to be vulnerable to him—but he’d been completely honest with her. She couldn’t be anything else with him, couldn’t hold back and hope he wouldn’t notice.

  With a soft groan, he rolled over so that he was on top of her. “What time do you have to be in court?” he murmured as he trailed his lips down her throat.

  For long seconds, she couldn’t think, only reveled in the feel of his lips moving slowly over her body.

  “Vivian?” he prompted when she didn’t answer. She was glad to hear in his voice the stress his restraint was costing him. It would have been awful to feel this open without knowing that he was as moved by her as she was by him.

  “What?” she gasped, arching beneath him as his mouth did something truly wicked to the curve of her shoulder.

  “Court?” he reminded her, and moved even lower. His lips skimmed over her breast and she squirmed, looked at the clock in desperation. Then smiled—it was only six-thirty.

  “I’ve got three hours before I have to leave,” she whispered.

  She felt his mouth curve into a wicked smile against her breast. “That just might be enough time.”

  THREE AND A HALF HOURS later, Vivian battled her way through a throng of reporters on her way up the courthouse steps to the juvenile courtroom of Judge Alyssa Chambers. Vivian’s heart was beating heavily as she issued a string of “No comment,” her already taut nerves stretching to the breaking point as she nearly tripped over a photographer.

  “Come on, guys. Give me a break. I’ll have a statement for you later, I promise.”

  She might as well have been talking to the wall for all the attention they paid her. The butterflies in her stomach grew bigger at the thought. She had to win today, or Diego would once again hang in the court of public opinion. After the news broadcast she and Rafael had caught earlier that morning, she knew none of them could afford that.

  The reporter had smiled smugly at the camera right before two pictures from the case flashed across the screen. They were bloody images of Esme hacked to death, and would have gotten the station in huge trouble for showing them—if they hadn’t already been leaked on the Internet. The station had followed the pictures with the news that the boy accused of these crimes was now trying to get his case moved out of adult court to the juvenile system.
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  All hell had broken loose, and when Vivian called the SFPD to file a complaint, she’d been given the same statement the reporters had—they were taking the investigation of the leaked photographs seriously and would come out with a statement once they knew more.

  Yeah, right. In the meantime, Rafael had had to hire a security guard to watch Diego’s hospital room, to keep away the angry mob of people trying to crucify him.

  It had been a hell of a morning.

  But she had to put all that aside and concentrate on the case. She knew Judge Chambers casually, had spoken with her numerous times at various fundraisers through the years and had always been impressed by how sharp and compassionate she was. Vivian had been thrilled when she’d pulled her for Diego’s hearing, hoping that just maybe the kid would get a fair shake.

  But hope wasn’t enough. She had to win here today and get Diego’s case transferred to juvenile court or they were in trouble. With all the press, she was seriously beginning to doubt if she had a chance of finding twelve impartial jurors to try him in adult court.

  Having only fifteen minutes to make her case wasn’t making her feel any better. Judge Chambers had scheduled half an hour on the docket for this preliminary hearing, which meant Vivian had to hit the highlights.

  On the positive side, her opposition was working under the same circumstances.

  As court was called to order, she risked a glance at the prosecutor sitting at the table next to her. Assistant D.A. Gallagher was known for his tough attitude and unwillingness to plea-bargain. She’d never run up against him in a courtroom, but a couple of her friends had and he’d been merciless.

  That he was also known for his aspirations to the bench made things worse. The publicity surrounding this case was just the sort that might get him there—if he won.

  “Ms. Wentworth.” The judge’s smooth, cultured tones filled the courthouse. “I understand that your client is still in the hospital, following a particularly brutal attack.”

  “Yes, Your Honor, he is.”

  “Do we need to reschedule? I checked before I came in and I have an opening in three weeks if that would give him enough time to heal.”

  “I believe we can proceed, Your Honor, if it’s all right with you. I think we’d all like to know exactly what we need to be prepared for.”

  The judge studied her for a few seconds and then cleared her throat. “All right, then. Let’s go ahead.”

  She turned to the prosecutor. “Mr. Gallagher, would you like to start us off?”

  “Certainly, Your Honor.” His voice was calm, relaxed, but Vivian had the feeling she had rattled him with her request to keep going. She’d bet a month’s salary that he’d come in here prepared for her to reschedule, which was the number one reason she hadn’t. With a prosecutor this shrewd, she’d take any and every opportunity she could to throw him off his game.

  It quickly became obvious that she hadn’t shaken him up enough, however, as he went about vilifying Diego.

  “Your Honor, this crime is particularly heinous—the murder of a young girl and her unborn baby by the girl’s trusted boyfriend. By the unborn baby’s father. If ever there was a case to be tried in adult court, this is the one. Diego Sanchez was acting like an adult when he impregnated his girlfriend, and he was acting like an adult when he murdered her to get out of having a baby he didn’t want.

  “The M.E. has said there were no hesitation wounds on the body, no signs at all that Esme’s killer wasn’t completely reconciled to causing her death. In fact…”

  Vivian took notes as Gallagher droned on about how moving Diego to juvenile court would be a travesty of justice. His voice was low, persuasive, as he fought for his case, and the knot in her stomach grew. Her one saving grace was that his arguments, while sound, were unoriginal, and she’d prepared for each and every one of them.

  When it was her turn to speak, she took a couple of deep breaths and prepared for the argument of her life. “Your Honor, Diego is sixteen years old—well within the age bracket to be tried in juvenile court in California. And while I know the D.A. is convinced this case belongs in adult criminal court, I don’t understand his rationale.

  “The juvenile court system is set up specifically for cases like Diego’s. He’s a good kid, with a good record. He’s never been in trouble at school—even after his mother died of cancer. He’s never been involved with a gang or drugs or any other kind of street violence that might justify an adult trial.”

  She glanced at her notes. “In San Diego vs. K.M.P., the state Supreme Court says very clearly that juvenile court is the last bastion of defense against a generation of lost youth. As such, every effort should be made to keep a minor in the juvenile court system unless there are irrefutable grounds to try him as an adult.

  “Heniousness of the crime, as Mr. Gallagher argues, is not enough grounds. The court set up three criteria that must be met before the juvenile system is allowed to wash its hands of the youth. First, he must be deemed unfit for rehabilitation because of life experiences or repeated patterns of behavior. Yes, Diego’s had a rough life, but he’s managed to rise above that again and again. He has no repeated pattern of behavior, no record of escalating crimes. This case—with its less than sturdy evidence—is the only crime this child has ever had to stand trial for. So the first burden of the state hasn’t been met.

  “Second, he must be evaluated by a psychologist who determines that he knowingly and willingly committed the crime. The prosecution has made no effort to have Diego evaluated—the only psychologist he has seen is the one the defense provided, and Dr. Stuart’s report says the exact opposite.”

  “Do I have a copy of this report, Ms. Wentworth?”

  “You do, Your Honor.” When the judge gestured for her to continue, Vivian said, “And finally, it must be deemed in the juvenile’s best interest to be tried in adult court. While some cases—and some defendants—would definitely benefit from having their day in adult court, Diego’s case is clearly not one of them. Due to the volatile nature of this case, finding an impartial jury will be almost impossible. Photos have been leaked, reporters are following every development of the case, and between the police department’s statements and those from the D.A.’s office, the public has been whipped into a frenzy against my client.

  “As you know, Diego has already been severely beaten and the perpetrators are still at large. The teen center where he works has been vandalized in relation to this case. The system in place to keep Diego safe is failing, and it is up to this court to keep it from breaking down completely.

  “From the moment he was arrested, Diego has been treated like an adult, and it hasn’t worked for him so far. The police questioned him without a lawyer, parent or legal guardian present. They kept him in an interrogation room for seven hours, refusing to allow him to rest or use the bathroom. They went out of their way to treat him like a violent, adult offender when he’s never been convicted—or even accused—of any crime.

  “In Smith vs. the State of New Jersey, the Supreme Court ruled that juveniles must be protected by rules above and beyond adult offenders. They must not be questioned on their own. The police must not use interrogation techniques on them that the court deems ‘threatening’—such as isolation, exhaustion, physical threats or emotional cruelty. The officers threatened to ‘make his life miserable’ and ‘kick his ass’ if he didn’t confess. They even went so far as to tell him they would drop him off in front of the victim’s house and ‘let her brothers get a crack at him.’” Vivian paused, went over her last argument in her head and prayed that it was good enough to save Diego.

  “Diego is a good kid who meets none of the criteria for adult court. The police have little evidence against him, and what they do have is far from conclusive—a statement from a half-blind neighbor and his DNA at the crime scene and in the victim’s body. She was his girlfriend of two years and pregnant with his child, so the fact that they had sex sometime close to her death is perfectly underst
andable. Diego has already suffered more than any child should have to. To move his case to adult criminal court is to allow the further victimization of my client, who, with the deaths of Esme and his unborn child, has already lost more than anyone should have to.”

  Vivian’s legs were trembling by the time she’d finished her opening statement. It had been years since she’d been forced to make an argument in criminal court, and it was a whole different ball game than divorce court, especially since she’d come to care so much for Diego.

  More than a little nervous, she studied the judge’s face for any hint of which side she was leaning toward. Usually Vivian was pretty good at determining that, but Judge Chambers played things extremely close to the vest, and Vivian had absolutely no idea what the woman was thinking. The tense posture of the prosecutor implied that he felt exactly the same way.

  “All right. Thank you both. I’ll have a decision this afternoon, so why don’t we plan on meeting back here at three-fifteen.” She rose unexpectedly, which had both lawyers scrambling to their feet. “I’ll see you then.”

  RAFAEL WAS LEADING A MATH study group when Vivian breezed through the front door of the center.

  “We did it, Rafael!” she cried as she threw her arms around him. “The judge agreed to try Diego as a minor!”

  For a moment, he was frozen as he tried to make sense of her words. Surely he hadn’t heard correctly. Surely she hadn’t just said—

  “Rafael, did you hear me?” she all but crowed. “Diego’s case is being transferred to juvenile court.”

  A couple of the kids in the rec room cheered and their excited voices finally snapped him out of his disbelieving stupor. Grabbing Vivian’s elbow, he propelled her down the hallway to his apartment and away from prying ears.

  “How?” he demanded. “How did you do it? I honestly didn’t think you had a chance in hell.”

  “Court precedents. Barnes and Turner’s mishandling of the case. We also got a sympathetic judge, which always helps. When she gave her decision, she talked about how she wasn’t ready to throw a kid away without knowing why. Are you ready for the best part?”