Truth About Tequila (Surviving Absolution #3)

by Nikki Belaire

  “Do you want to have sex with Shae?”

  Okay, they’re done. The quasi-counseling session is over. “Damn, Millie. You may be the genius of the family, but you’re still my sister.”

  “No further, I promise. Just answer.”

  He blows out a deep breath and shakes his head. “No. I know that sounds weird but really I don't. I just want to protect her, make her smile, joke around so she’ll laugh and…”

  “What do you want to do with Gina?”

  The burn moves from his gut to groin, and he sets the empty glass next to him. “Nope, not going there.”

  She nods and smiles, like she’s figured out the string theory. “Have you ever thought that maybe Shae came into your life when you were lonely? You needed a friend who doesn’t write your paycheck or put you in danger. You and Nick pretty much shut yourselves off from the rest of the world, including all of us.” Millie taps her beer bottle on the gnarled wood. “I’ve missed you.”

  He curls his hand around her shoulder and pulls her to him, kissing her temple. “Me too. I’m sorry. I think we both realize we need more. He found it with Shae.”

  “And, you? With Gina?”

  “I don’t know."

  “Then answer me this. Ignoring everything else, if I said ‘Your girlfriend’s here.’ who would you hope to turn around and see?”

  Chapter 8

  Gina taps her fingertips on the thick glass. The yellow fish torpedoes to the bottom every time the iridescent pink fish swims by. As if it knows the more beautiful ones deserve to be closer to the top. I know how you feel, sunshine.

  She blows out a sigh and turns back to Max and RJ, their heads tipped together deep in discussion. One last issue to resolve before they can check in. Maybe she shouldn’t be in such a hurry. He wants to talk. About their relationship. Great. Most men are satisfied with some sex, a little TV, and they’re good for the night. Not Max. But, then again Max’s never been an ordinary man.

  She smiles at his creased forehead, the intensity of his gaze as he scans the tablet. Even at ten at night, after enduring a shitty reunion with his dad and an energetic playdate with his niece, he still works hard. Keeps them safe. Manages all the details.

  Yeah, he’s a good guy. Well, except for the killing and illegal activities. But, other than that, good. Maybe great. She’ll never tell him though. He’s cocky enough. Even with tiny pink feathers dotting his black polo from Gabby’s boa and a hint of glitter glistening in his hair. He’ll make a great dad someday. Too bad it can’t be with her.

  She plops down in one of the wicker chairs and leans back on the red cushion. With the brown panel walls and black furniture, the room could seem stuffy and dark. Instead, the softly lit space conveys warmth, brightened by the bursts of color from the floor to ceiling aquarium and rivulets of water dribbling down the three square stones nestled in a river of copper rock. Hopefully, their room will have the same colonial feel twisted with an island vibe.

  Her heart flip flops as he strides toward her. Focused. Confident. Sexy. And, exhausted. His smile and eyes faded, the brightness gone since he argued with his dad after dinner. Their tense voices floating from the sun porch until the front door slammed and his mother gave him a quick hug before hurrying outside, chasing after her husband.

  Accepting his outstretched hand, she strokes his arm as they walk. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, just tired. I’m ready to relax.”

  Something she can definitely help him with. “What floor are we on?”

  “Nope.” He shakes his head, her smile enticed by his playful tone. “I’ve booked us one of the villas.”

  She should be happy, even pleased. This is special. For her. From him.

  Unless he always stays in the upscale cottages.

  Maybe his usual routine.

  With other women.

  Previous fuck buddies who aren’t so difficult. Who are patient and easy going. More like Shae.

  Shut up. Just shut up and enjoy it. Heat flows through her from him squeezing her hand, his rough thumb stroking her fingers.

  “Do you always stay in a villa?”

  His long strides stop, his hand sliding away as he turns to her. Damn, why is she such a bitch? Why does she always have to ruin everything? Why can’t she just be quiet and accept his thoughtfulness?

  Long fingers glide under her chin, lifting her head, forcing her to meet his confused gaze.

  “No. I usually stay with my sister. But, I thought we might enjoy someplace a bit more private.”

  He’s not mad. Her scrunched shoulders drop. Not angry. Just horny. This she gets. Understands. Likes. “Definitely.”

  Happiness softens her tension at his caress on her lower back before he leads her out of the lobby. Their footsteps clap on the wooden path, winding through lush greenery and palm trees allowing only tiny glimpses of the white sand beneath the red, yellow, and pink flowers. They stop in front of gray stone steps leading to a small beach house, its beige thatched roof contrasting with the turquoise walls.

  He swipes the card through the reader on the gate, a row of green dots flashing before a steel drum chime sounds. She’s stayed at some swanky places before, but this is pretty cool. He winks as he grabs her hand and pulls her toward the sea-colored door, making a giggle bubble in her throat. Like a twelve-year-old girl. What the hell is wrong with her?

  Her heart pounds more than a teenager on her first date as they roam the open space, absorbing all the luxury. King-size sleigh bed, double hammock strung by a fire pit, stone tub on the patio outside the master suite to soak under the stars. All of it for her. Only her.

  She slides her hands around his waist, breathing in his essence drifting through the peppermint. “Thank you for all of this. For everything.”

  “You’re welcome. I wanted to surprise you.” His pulls her tighter, lightening scorching her skin from his fingertips on her bare arms. “I’m glad you like it.”

  She nods against his chest, no words to describe how much it means to her. Or, how much she hopes he understands. That he’s more to her than just sex.

  A soft growl rumbles between them, a reminder of his ruined dinner. He leans back after brushing his lips on her neck. “I’m going to order room service. Do you want anything?”

  “No thanks. I’m good.” She picks up the bag he set by the armoire and pushes open the door off their bedroom. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Warm water flows instantly from the tap, and she can’t help but smile. Another extravagance she could totally get used to. She swipes her face with a tissue before bringing the thick white washcloth to her skin, washing off Gabby’s heavy-handed make over. First time she’s ever worn blue shadow on her eyes or her cheeks.

  She leans closer to the mirror. Is that a raisin stuck to her shirt? Sweet, messy, slobbering, adorable Henry. Always trying to keep up with his sister. He and Gabby the bright spot of their evening otherwise spoiled by his father, his harshness so different from Max. At least with her. Never anything but gentle and accepting, even mired in her hesitation.

  Except she’s not the only one keeping secrets. After the way his father acted, no wonder he never talks about his past. Easier to keep quiet than hear what people really think.

  Silence greets her in the bedroom. The living room empty too, only the sheer curtains blowing in, wrapping around the edges of the windowed doors. Yet the cool breeze can’t touch the fire burning between her legs at the sinful sight in front of her.

  Damn. Max stretches out in the curved chair on the terrace, his feet propped on the black leather ottoman. A fat stogie hangs out of his mouth as he swipes his phone screen. Only he could pull off wearing a white fuzzy bath robe and still be sexier than hell. Time to help him unwind even more. She slips off her fruit-splattered tee and ruffled skirt and walks outside. His eyes widen, and he pulls the cigar from between his lips as she straddles his crossed thighs. “You look comfortable.”

  “Baby, you have no idea.”

/>   #####

  God fucking damn. The cell drops out of his hand and tumbles to the floor. But, who the hell cares? A purple-lace fantasy sits in front of him. He lays the Cuban in the decorative bowl next to him and rubs his hands up her silky thighs, pulling her to him. “Bringing you with me is the best idea I’ve had in a long time.”

  “I know something else that may top it.”

  Pouty lips trail down his neck, heat blazing through every nerve from her fingernails grazing his back. She grinds against his hardness, silky panties sparking electricity against his bare skin. Her hands circle his waist, and she slides the belt out of the loops, wrapping the fabric around her fingers, pulling the terrycloth taut in front of her. “Do you trust me?”

  With his heart, no. His life, yes. His body, maybe. Damned any way he answers. “What do you think?”

  Her ‘fuck you’ smirk curls over her lips before she raises her eyebrows. “That’s not an answer.”

  She leans over him, her nipples strain against the thin lilac fabric, brushing across his chest. Pushing his arms down, she ties the strap around his wrists before knotting the fabric under the seat of the chair. He tugs the belt, tighter than expected. But, she doesn’t need any more encouragement. “You know I can break free.”

  “You won’t if you want to have some fun.”

  She rises from his lap and steps back, teasing him with another intoxicating view of everything sweet she offers. Fucking beautiful. After taking a few puffs of the cigar, she kicks the foot stool from underneath him and nods.

  “You’re at my mercy.”

  He can’t hold back a chuckle at that declaration. No idea the impact she has on him. “I always am.”

  A soft peal of bells echoes through the living room. Silver-tipped fingers flit across her pink lips, following the trail of her tongue. “Your food’s here.”

  “Can you help me out? I’m little tied up at the moment.”

  Now it’s her turn to laugh, her hips swaying as she strides to the side table and drops the cigar into the dish. “With that lame line, I might not come back. Especially if he likes what he sees.”

  A growl rumbles in his chest. “You better put some fucking clothes on.”

  His pulse races at her wink. She drives him fucking crazy. And, he loves it. Almost as much as her, if she’ll let him. His own stupidity adding another layer of concrete to her wall that won’t easily crumble.

  Murmurs drift from the doorway, her laugh bubbling again. Then quiet until the squeak of the metal wheels on the food cart vibrates across the tile.

  “You’re a good tipper. All those hundred dollar bills and only--”

  “Fuck the money and get over here.”

  She shakes her head, frowning at him as her black satin kimono flutters to the floor. “So impatient.”

  Her mimic of the last time they were together drives his pounding heart even harder. She drops down between his knees, pushing the fabric off his legs, his breath hitching at her soft touch on his throbbing length.

  “Do you want dinner or dessert?”

  “What do you think?”

  Her tongue slowly runs across her lips before she dips forward and takes him into her mouth. Jesus Christ. His hips jerk forward craving everything she gives him. Silky fingers glide around the base, making up the difference her mouth can’t reach. She watches him through long lashes until he loses himself and her gaze. His eyes glide shut at the tornado stirring in his groin, swirling pleasure between his legs to his fingertips. A shudder rocks his body at her teeth grazing him, her tongue winding around his length as she pulls him in deeper.

  He flexes his fists, needing to touch her, throbbing at the thought of her delicate skin under his fingers. Unable to think of anything but her softness pressed against him. He hisses through gritted teeth. “Untie me.”

  Her pace quickens, fingernails tickling his most sensitive skin almost to his breaking point. Only a whisper able to escape his lips. “Gina.”

  The vice grip on his straining shaft increases, and he jerks his arm, the binding unable to hold him any longer. The rope dangles in the electrified air as he rips it off his wrist with his free hand and grips her shoulders, pulling her up with him. Her mouth squeezes shut in defiance until he glides his hand down her quivering stomach and caresses her soft folds. Ravished lips part with her moan, and he invades, demanding her tongue, owning her body as he wraps his hands around her hips. Ripped panties fall to the floor and he scoops her up, her arms and legs coiling around him while he walks them to the bed.

  “Max.”

  A breathless whisper against his neck confirms she belongs to him. At least for tonight. Her lips curl into a smirk, and she rolls to her side, trying to escape his possession. Not fucking happening. His hand slides around her waist, pulling her hips against his thighs, and her giggle catches in her groan as he plunges inside her. He curls over her, kissing the cashmere skin of her neck and shoulders, her body arching up to meet his chest. No space between them as he thrusts into her softness, again and again, the cool breeze mingling with the sweat rolling down his back.

  Her fingers interlace with his hand splayed across her stomach, her walls gripping him tighter until he can’t drive any deeper. The panting breaths and throaty mews push him over the edge with her. He falls back on his heels for one last thrust before she cries out his name and pulls his hand to her mouth biting his fingertip at his release inside her. Fucking shit. He rests his forehead on her shoulder blade as his body jerks against hers, all the tension from earlier gone.

  A smile crosses his face at her lips kissing his finger. “That’s going to leave a mark.”

  “Now everyone will know you’re mine.”

  Grazing his teeth over her neck, he gives her a small nibble, every inch of his body ablaze in pleasure from her acceptance of him. “That I am.”

  His hands wrap around her torso, and he lays them down. She snuggles against him, her slender fingers curling around his, letting her lavender essence wash over him for complete contentment. “Why didn’t you tell me about your business?”

  Her body stiffens, and he squeezes her hands before kissing her shoulder. “I’m not mad. I just want to know more about what you do.”

  She glides her fingertips over his and lets out a deep breath. “I knew…” Silky hair tickles his skin as she shakes her head, shame filling her voice. “…if I didn’t massage you, I wouldn’t get to see you anymore.”

  Guilt stings his chest. That he’s such a dick she would think so little of him and their relationship. “That’s not true.”

  “Yes it is. You just want--”

  He rolls her onto her back and cups her face, huge cocoa eyes swirling with doubt. “I want you.”

  Her cheeks fill his palms with her huge smile, his body softening at her happiness. His lips brush hers as she whispers against them. “Me too.”

  Nodding against his forehead, she pulls him closer, and he covers her body with his, shifting his weight to her side, tucking his head into her neck. Soft fingertips glide up and down his arm on her waist, engulfing them in peace. Only the sound of the crashing waves fills the salty air.

  Loathe to hurt her, but needing to understand more with the barrier between them finally down, he presses against her ear. “Tell me about your daughter.”

  Fingernails dig into his skin before she shakes her head. “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ll hate me.”

  A deep sob steals her voice as she sits up, gasping for air, her body shuddering. Her small hand presses against his pounding chest, pushing him away.

  Fuck! It’s too soon. He asks too much, reaches too far. Grabbing her hunched shoulders, he holds her trembling body against him. “It’s okay. You don’t have to. I’m sorry.”

  “You’ll never--”

  “Shhhh.” He lies them both down again, his arms tightening around her, trying to eliminate her fear. “Just let me hold you. Nothing else. I promise.”

&nbs
p; “Okay.” She takes a deep breath and nods, almost attempting to convince herself rather than him. “Okay.”

  A few more shaky breaths rattle against the sheets before her body softens. “Okay.”

  Chapter 9

  Max squints, trying to see through the fog, following the sound of the tormented cries. A light flashes, and he shields his eyes before the image in front of him becomes clear. Fire flames in every nerve at Shae’s battered body, only the restraints keeping her upright as her head hangs to her chest. His fingers fumble with the rope binding her wrists, her delicate skin rubbed raw from straining against the fiber handcuffs. Once free, she sinks against him, and he clutches her to his chest, ignoring the fury raging in his gut. How the fuck could he have let this happen?

  The pounding of his pulse drowns out everything but the soft sobbing. The sickeningly sweet smell of chloroform stings his nose as he yanks the rag from her mouth. Purple streaks radiate out from her swollen eye, and she licks her cracked lips. “I knew you’d come for me.”

  His chest throbs at her hoarseness and her faith in him. She trusts him, and he let her down. Regardless of how or why, he breaks his promise to all of them. He stands, nothing visible in the haze surrounding them. “I have to get you out of here.”

  “What about the baby?”

  Fucking shit! A pitiful wail stabs his heart, the newborn’s face streaked and blotchy as tiny fists shake above the blanket. He scoops up the bundle, and the infant quiets down, only the soft sobs haunting him beyond the light.

  The door flies open, and he curls the child against him, drawing his gun. His arm falls to his side at Gina in the doorway, relief filling his tense muscles. She’s okay.

  The huge smile lighting her beautiful face fades as her eyes widen in surprise. Bullets riddle her body, convulsing as the metal rips through her skin. He drops to his knees next to her, cradling her head, the only part not drenched in crimson. Her back arches, her neck stretching as she struggles to speak. “I thought…” She swallows hard, her eyes drifting shut. “…you would come for me.”