Truck Stop Tango

by Daniels, Krissy

  I plopped my ass on the floor against the wall and waited. Waited. Waited some more, my nerves buzzing harder with each passing minute.

  After what seemed an hour, the knob turned and I jumped to my feet. When she opened the door and her eyes met mine, I had no choice but to wrap my arms around her skinny frame. The past few weeks had been torture—keeping my distance while I’d battled the war of emotions, and resisted the urge to make her hurt as I did.

  “I thought you were going for drinks with Tucker,” she mumbled into my chest, gripping my hips and squeezing tight.

  “He offered to take Rocky, for a sleepover.”

  “Why?”

  “Tucker insisted that we have alone time. I couldn’t argue with his logic.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said, raising her head and stepping back.

  I braced my arms on the wall, caging her, blocking her attempt at escape. “I should be mad at you.”

  Her chin dropped. “Tango. Please. I can’t do this right now.”

  Ignoring her plea, I continued. I would burst if I waited another second to tell her how I felt. “I have every right to hate you, but I don’t. It’s impossible for me to feel anything other than gratitude.”

  Slade stared at the floor. I tapped a finger under her chin, urging her to look up. I needed her eyes on me.

  When she raised them, I sucked in a breath. “I love you. More than I ever have. I love you for protecting him. For what you sacrificed. I fucking love you. I never stopped, and now…” I stepped back, dropping my arms to my sides. “Now I have a son. A family. Goddamn, Slade. You’re the only family I ever wanted, and … and…”

  I couldn’t continue. My own words burned. First my lips, then my throat, liquid fire scorching my insides and settling behind my ribcage.

  Slade buried her face behind the shield of her hands. “You can’t love me,” she mumbled. “How can you say that after what I did?” Tears cascaded down her chin, wetting her shirt. Shoulders heaving, she folded into herself and gave in to her own emotions.

  My strong girl was falling apart before my eyes.

  I alone was responsible for the decisions she’d been forced to make. My sin. My selfish act. I could never rewind the clock, and dear God, how I wished I could go back to that night and be the man she deserved.

  My own mother had cast aside my child, her grandson, her very flesh and blood. Slade had laid her life on the line for him, even after I’d sliced her open and left her to bleed. If that wasn’t love, I didn’t want to suffer another breath on this wretched Earth.

  “I love you fiercely. And you love me, too. I know you do.” I fell to my knees and pulled her with me. “You loved me enough to save my boy. I wasn’t brave enough to face you after what I’d done. I ran away. Left you to clean my mess.”

  I didn’t know if she could hear me through her sobs. I pressed my lips to her ear. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby. I was a coward, and you. Shit. You were my warrior. You don’t have to be strong anymore. I’m here. I’ll be your rock. I’ll take care of both of you.”

  I held her steady through the tremors, fighting my own damn tidal wave of emotion. I didn’t have a fucking clue how the following days would play out. I only knew that we had to let things play out, and I owed her everything. Everything.

  Slade Mason had carried the weight of my sin for far too long.

  When the sobbing slowed, I lifted her off the floor and set her on her feet. I grabbed a handful of tissues from the bathroom and dried her red, puffy eyes. “Are you about finished?” I asked, tipping her face up to mine. “I really need to kiss you now.”

  I really needed him to stop kissing me. My nose was stuffy on account of the crying, making it difficult to inhale. Which was ridiculous, because for the first time since he had come home, I had room to breathe.

  And I loved his lips. I loved how he loved me with his lips. I wanted those big, soft lips on every inch of my body. With great reluctance, I pulled away.

  He combed a hand through his hair and slumped against the wall. “Sorry. I got carried away.”

  “We have a bad habit of doing that, don’t we?” I hooked my finger into the waistband of his jeans. The taut muscles of his abdomen twitched under my touch, and I couldn’t contain my smile.

  I pressed my back to the wall next to him. It wasn’t close enough. I looped my arm around his thick muscled bicep. Still too far away. I slid my hand downward and forced my fingers between his. “What now?”

  Tango sighed, lifted our joined hands to his lips, and kissed my knuckles. “We’ll take it one day at a time.”

  I had one more truth to reveal, and had I not cried myself dry already, I would’ve burst into tears again. “Tango?”

  “Yeah, babylove?”

  “I sold the restaurant.”

  His fingers tightened around mine. “What?”

  “To your dad.”

  “No.” He looked down at me, as if waiting to hear, Ha, ha. Just kidding. Gotcha.

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “No.” He pushed off the wall and paced the hallway up and back. “Please tell me this is a joke. You love that place. Rocky loves it. It’s yours. You can’t. I mean, shit. You didn’t, did you?” He stopped in front of me and cupped my face. “Why?”

  Gulp. I raised my eyes to meet his, and sucked in a breath of courage. “I was running.”

  His face crumpled. “From me.”

  “When you said you were moving home, I thought I needed to disappear.” I expected him to get angry all over again.

  Instead, he stepped back, shoulders slouched, and kicked at something invisible on the floor. “Fuck.”

  “I wasn’t only running from you, though.” I rubbed my raw eyes. “On the night Rocky was born, when we pulled Addy out of the cabin, her uncle showed up. I hit that disgusting bastard in the head with a bat. He wasn’t supposed to be there. I was so scared, and angry, and I hit him. There was so much blood. I was sure I’d killed him.”

  “Slade,” Tango whispered, voice cracking.

  “I just found out he’s been in prison. I didn’t kill him. Which is good, right? But what if he told the Slayers it was me who took Addy that night? What if they’re coming for me? Or worse, Rocky? I keep seeing them around town, and I’m scared. I’m so scared they know it was me who tried to rescue Addy.”

  “Baby.” Solid arms wrapped around me, chasing the shivers from my body. “You don’t have to worry about the Slayers. They don’t know it was you.”

  “You don’t understand. I haven’t seen them around town for years. Now, they seem to be everywhere.”

  His chest rose and fell. “I ran in to Dane.”

  “Oh God. Dane?” I wiggled free of his embrace. “Is he okay? I haven’t heard from him. I’ve been so worried.”

  Tango’s mouth opened, then closed. He rubbed the back of his neck, then pinned me with a glare. “Why would you worry about that sick fucker?”

  “He’s the reason we got Addy out of there. He’s the reason your son is alive, and here with us. He risked his life to save Addy. He loved her, Tango. Like a sister. He helped us get her out. And then he disappeared. I never heard from him again.”

  “He never disappeared, babylove. He’s had eyes and ears on you since day one. Made sure you and Rocky were safe.”

  I didn’t ask how he knew, or where he’d run into Dane. I suspected the fading bruises on his face had been a result of their meeting.

  Tango closed the short distance between us, framing my face with his warm hands. “But I’m here now. Got it? I’m here. I’ve got your back. Nobody is touching you or my boy.”

  There was something so savage in his promise, so possessive in his gaze, I felt owned. Protected. A little frightened, too, and I jerked away, shocked by the emotion.

  Tango cussed under his breath and headed for the living room, pausing halfway to the couch.

  “So you sold The Stop. The deal is done?” he asked, shoulders bunched, hands fisted at his sid
es.

  “It’s done,” I mumbled, feeling my first twinge of regret about selling.

  “Dad’s been after your property since before we were born.”

  “I know. It’s his now. I broke the news to my employees today.”

  “That would explain your fragile emotions.” He scratched his head and turned to face me. “How’d they take it?”

  “There were a lot of tears, mostly from Charlie.”

  That earned me a smile. “We had our first kiss at The Stop.”

  I laughed. Charlie had caught us kissing against the walk-in freezer. “I remember.”

  “Our first official date.”

  “I know.”

  “Had my first fight in the parking lot. Do you remember? I kicked Riley Smith’s ass, defending your honor.”

  “How could I forget. You almost got carted to juvie.”

  “Good thing your mom and Officer Granger were fuck buddies, huh?”

  “Not funny.” I stepped around him and headed for the kitchen. All the crying had made me thirsty.

  Tango followed. While I poured the water, he snagged the ice tray out of the freezer and popped the cubes into a bowl. “He’s going to tear it down and build condos.” Plop. He dropped ice into my drink. “I can’t imagine this town without The Stop.”

  I poured him a glass, and we leaned against the counter in silence until adequately hydrated.

  “What will you do?” Tango asked, after draining his glass for the second time.

  “I don’t know.” My plan had been to take the money and run. Since my need to flee no longer existed, I was free to do whatever I wanted. Except leave. The leaving option had been taken away, but I was okay with that. I was so freaking okay with that.

  Tango took the drink from my hand and set it on the counter next to his. Then he reached around me, pressing his shirtless chest into my shoulder, and fiddled with my iPod. Before I could move out of his way, he snatched my hand and pulled me against his bare skin.

  “Have you danced today?”

  I melted into him. Oh, how I’d missed those words.

  Shakira’s “Hips Don’t Lie” blared through the speaker, but Tango rocked back and forth, slow and graceful, arms around me tight.

  He was here. He was home and holding me. We were dancing. And there were no more secrets. I was free to hold him back. No guilt. No shame. No fear.

  His hand slid up my neck, and into my hair. Then he tugged the elastic band holding my messy bun and worked his fingers through the tangles.

  I closed my eyes, absorbing the tenderness, the care he put into splaying the unruly curls down my back.

  Enrique Iglesias came on next. “Bailando.” One of my favorite hip-shaking songs. I spun free of his arms, shook the rest of my hair loose, and danced away from him, spinning, shaking my ass, and teasing, yes, teasing Tango Rossi.

  Tango stared at me, one hand tucked into the pocket of his jeans, the other rubbing the stubble on his chin. His tongue made a slow drag across his bottom lip. He smiled. I was done for. My boy, my beautiful man, chased me around the other side of the table and coiled an arm around my waist. He captured my right hand, held it shoulder high, and spun me across the kitchen floor.

  He led. I followed. We danced. Hips grinding, chests bumping, laughter, smiles, heavy breaths. Oh God. My heart could burst.

  Was this real? Did I have my Tango back? My mind was too jumbled to process anything. I stopped thinking and gave in to his lead, to the moment, to the pure bliss that launched me higher than I’d believed possible.

  I was spinning and spinning and soon my feet were off the ground, and I was in his arms, and he was carrying me through the living room, and laying me on the couch.

  The weight of his body pushed me into the cushions and our mouths crashed together. I locked my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist. I never wanted to let go. I would never again let my man go. He was mine. He was mine. He was mine.

  As our chests heaved, and we kissed, and clawed at each other, the weight of my world evaporated, floated upward, and disappeared into the ceiling.

  Tango raised his head and hovered above me. Perhaps to catch his breath. Every time he inhaled, his erection pressed harder between my legs, decimating every nerve, filling me with unbearable need.

  “I love you, Slade Mason.” His voice was ragged and raw. He dropped another kiss on my lips and rolled his hips against me. “I never stopped. Not for one second.”

  My eyes burned, and I blinked away the salty moisture. I pulled him closer and whispered, “I love you, too.”

  “So, you’re mine, and I’m yours. Forever.”

  “Yes, please. Forever.”

  He kissed a trail down my neck, across each shoulder, and lower, toward my breasts. He manipulated the buttons of my work pants. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t keep up. I can’t do this.

  “Tango. Wait.” I tangled my fingers through his messy hair to stop his descent.

  “We’ve waited too damn long, babylove.”

  Yes. He was so freaking right about that. I was a ticking time bomb. There was no easy way to say what I had to say. “I have to tell you something.”

  He stopped pulling at my waistband. “Can it wait?”

  I gripped the sides of his face. “I’ve never made love.”

  “I’ve never made love, either.” If I didn’t get her naked, and soon, I would self-combust. “I’ve only fucked, Slade. Love had nothing to do with it.”

  I couldn’t think straight. Christ, why couldn’t I get her damn button unfastened?

  “Wait. You don’t understand.” She pushed at my chest. “I don’t mean it like you mean it.”

  “Don’t mean what?” I mumbled, giving up on the pants and going for the shirt and bra.

  She laughed, and I suddenly felt like the world’s biggest dope. “What’s so funny?”

  Her eyes sizzled and shined, highlighted by the pink in her cheeks. “You’re not listening to me.”

  I sat back on my heels, a tad curious, mostly frustrated. “I’m listening.”

  “I haven’t had sex.” Her cheeks glowed.

  “In a long time?”

  Slade rolled her eyes. “No, Tango. At all.”

  “How is that possible?” Slade was deadly sexy, and I had found the dildo hidden in her closet. Plus, she’d made no effort to hide her birth control. “Why are you on the pill?”

  “To regulate my periods.”

  “Shit. Are you fucking with me right now? I hope you’re not messing with my head, because that’s just about the best goddamned news I’ve ever heard. Seriously? Nobody?”

  Releasing her bottom lip from between her teeth, she whispered, “I’ve been busy.”

  Busy, as in saving and raising my child. While I’d been busy rage-fucking my way through the cream of the crop in the underground fight scene. I didn’t believe it was possible for my love to grow any deeper, my heart to expand any further, but it did. Fuck, it hurt, but I welcomed the burn.

  “Well, then.” I tugged her shirt back over her stomach. “That changes things.”

  Her delicate hand covered mine. “Please. Don’t stop. I want you. I want this. More than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

  “Slade,” I huffed, sitting back on my heels. “I don’t want to fuck things up. I need to do this right.”

  She wiggled into the sitting position, a storm brewing in her blue beauties.

  Holy shit, she was going to fight for us.

  I watched in awe, and shameful anticipation, while she rose to her feet and pulled her shirt over her head. Our eyes locked, and she smiled. Sweet mother of mercy, her smile. The truest thing I knew, was that if you were on the receiving end of Slade’s smile, you were the luckiest bastard alive.

  If there was ever a time to stand up and be a man, that was it. That was the moment to prove my worth. Fall to one knee, beg her to be my bride, marry my girl. Then, and only then, would it be right for me to take her virginity. I knew, to the very
depths of my soul, that was the right way to handle the situation.

  Chivalry.

  Slade deserved nothing less.

  Except, when she reached behind her back, unhooked her bra, then let it fall to the floor, I lost my sense of reason.

  “Come here,” I ordered, rising to my feet and offering a hand.

  As she stepped closer, her full, round breasts bounced and swayed. Dark pink nipples puckered tight. I was lost. A goner. Brain cells decimated. I had to have her.

  Slade Mason was mine. Had always been, would always be, mine. As far as I was concerned, we were already married, mind and spirit. The body part? Hell, I would take care of that right-fucking-now. Legalities would come soon enough.

  “Are you sure about this?” I said, pulling her close, smashing her beautiful breasts between us.

  “Don’t make me wait,” she begged, breathy and so fucking sweet. “I’ll die if you make me wait.” She shivered against me.

  I looked at the freshly painted staircase, then the couch. No way in hell was our first time going to be on her sofa.

  As if reading my mind, Slade looked at the stairs and back to me. Shrugging her shoulders, she asked, “Think it’s dry enough?”

  “Fuck it.” I grabbed her hand, and we ascended the steps two by two.

  Slade didn’t stop at her bedroom door. She pulled me toward the bathroom.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” I asked, delirious with lust.

  “I stink. I need a shower.”

  “Like hell.” I crouched, scooped her over my shoulder, headed back to her room. After setting her on her feet next to the bed, I took a step back to admire the view. A teasing grin spread across her face as she shimmied free of her khakis and underwear.

  “Sweet Jesus,” I mumbled, ogling her from head to toe.

  Her hungry gaze traveled from my face to my crotch.

  My dick was diamond hard, and there was no way I could move without injuring myself. Slade stepped closer and unbuttoned my jeans. I was helpless to do anything but watch and feel.

  She slid her hands under the waistband of my boxers and around to my ass. My heart skipped a beat when she pressed soft kisses across my chest. The right side, then the left. She pushed my clothing down past my hips and my erection fell free. I moaned and braced my hand on the bedpost. As she slid the fabric down my thighs, her hair brushed my cock and I nearly ejaculated.