by Linda Kage
“What?” I asked, oh so very ready to change the subject.
He sighed as he watched me. “I learned what te amo really meant,”
Shit! Okay, I didn’t want the subject turned to that, though.
I squeezed my hands around the steering wheel and said nothing. Why had I ever said that to him? I knew it wouldn’t take anything for him to ask anyone who knew Spanish to translate it for him.
“No one’s ever said that to me before,” he said, his voice going hoarse. “In any language.”
My heart tore for him, and I suddenly realized why I’d said it, because I pretty much already knew he hadn’t heard it a lot. His mother, his father, his uncle who barely raised him. None of them would’ve said it. And Pick was too new a brother to go spouting fluffy love crap quite yet. So I’d said it because he’d deserved to hear it.
And I’d meant it.
He was an amazing man who just needed one person to appreciate that and tell him how special he was. I knew it shouldn’t have been me, but I hadn’t been able to resist. Everyone needed to hear I love you at least once in his life.
“Did you mean it?” he asked.
I clenched my teeth and concentrated on driving as I pulled into the alley that led to his place. But as soon as I cut the engine, he pushed the issue again.
“Did you?”
I blew out a deep breath and quietly told him the truth. “Yes.” When I glanced over at him, his eyes were glossy with alcohol but he seemed strangely lucid. “I meant it.”
Air hissed from between his gritted teeth. Then he reached out and barely grazed my bare leg with his fingertips. “I want to spend the rest of the night inside you.”
“Asher.” I groaned and slapped my hands over my face. “Don’t do this to me. You’re drunk.”
He shrugged. “So?”
“So, you’ve obviously forgotten how you feel about me. I’m you’re least favorite person on the planet right now, remember? You’ll regret it in the morning.”
“I know exactly how I feel about you, Remy. I’m still pissed as hell over what you did, and I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you, but I still want you.” His hand stroked up higher on my thigh, slipping between my legs. “And I miss you.”
I shuddered and closed my eyes, trying to fight off the temptation.
But he just kept talking, just kept tempting. “I’ve wanted you all night, under me on a bed where I could run my hands and mouth over this body.” Suddenly his touch was no longer teasing and soft. He went bold and slid his fingers under my dress, finding my panties immediately. “I mean to have you, too.”
“Dios,” I gasped, gripping the steering wheel as he rubbed the spot that ached the most through the silk cloth of my panties.
I groaned a split second before he did.
“Jesus, and you’re already wet for me.” Moving past the barrier my underwear provided, he pushed a thick digit inside me.
“Asher, wait.” I grasped his wrist and squeezed my legs together, trapping his hand where it was but also preventing him from pleasuring me further.
But the damn man curled his finger inside me. “Why? You want this as much as I do.” Finding my G-spot, he rubbed his finger against it, over and over again.
Throwing my skull back against the headrest of my seat, I clenched my teeth against the rising pleasure. But, God. He knew just where to touch.
Cursing him openly in Spanish, I opened my legs and bucked up my hips, meeting his pleasurable assault with greedy abandon. When the euphoria struck, I realized vaguely somewhere in my head that he was getting me off with nothing but his index finger. But I was still too high on happy endorphins to really care how embarrassing that fact was.
Every muscle in my body loosened as I slumped limp in my seat, utterly drained.
“You still spout off a shitload of Spanish when you come,” Asher said from beside me. He sounded curious about his claim, as if realizing a new fact. “I guess that part wasn’t a lie after all.”
Still panting from my orgasm, I glanced over at him from what could only be wild, dazed eyes. “You’d be amazed by all the things that happened between us that were actually true.”
His gaze was intense and expression a little feral on its own. “Come inside with me, Remy.”
He was no longer asking. It was a command, and heaven help me, I followed it.
Taking his hand when he reached for mine, I went with him to his door and kissed the back of his shoulder as I waited behind him to unlock all the deadbolts. When he led me inside, he stuck close on the stairs, glancing back at me when we were halfway down the flight.
“Remember when I couldn’t wait to have you and took you right here?”
God, how could I forget? It was one of the reasons I was here with him again, when I knew good and well I shouldn’t be. Gripping his hand harder, I warned, “Don’t you dare try that tonight. You’re way too drunk to manage it now.”
Asher chuckled. “Don’t worry. I want you on a bed for all the things I have planned.”
I shuddered and clutched his hand harder.
He took me straight to the bed and paused at the footboard to turn to me and kiss me, all the while working my dress off my shoulders. As soon as he had me down to my bra and panties, he stepped back to take in the whole picture.
“Fucking breathtaking,” he breathed, grasping my fingers again to help me onto the bed. After getting me comfortable on my back, my head nestled into his pillow and my body stretched out before him, he placed a staying hand on my hip. “Lie here, just like that while I feast on you.” Then taking my arms, he moved them above my head until he’d placed one hand upon the other. “Pretend you’re bound here.”
I grinned. “What? No handcuffs?”
He shook his head, not smiling back. “I threw them out.” His green eyes seared into mine. “They kept me from chasing after you.”
Gulping because I hadn’t meant to bring up a sore issue, I whispered, “Sorry.”
He didn’t answer, his gaze too intent on my chest. Reaching out, he brushed the backs of his fingers over the cups of my bra. It wasn’t as intense as skin-to-skin contact, but it still made me shiver and had my nipples perking to attention. Then he removed the bra and leaned in to suck one aching tip into his mouth. I arched up, crying out and squeezing my hands together so I couldn’t break his rule and bury my fingers in his hair.
But then he moved down, grasped a teeth full of my panties and tugged them down my legs. When his tongue licked up my sex, I couldn’t help it. I grabbed fistfuls of all that sexy, soft hair, and I ground my hips up against him, riding his face into oblivion.
When he sat up, wiping his mouth and grinning down at me, I shuddered out a heaving, happy sigh, loving how mussed his hair was.
“I told you how much I loved the taste of pussy, didn’t I? When I thought you were another guy.”
I nodded, hoping he didn’t realize he was making a huge mistake by being here like this with a liar like me.
But he only smiled as if amused by revealing such a thing to me. “I told you a lot of shit. Way more than I’ve told any other living soul on the planet.”
Not sure what to say except sorry he’d misplaced his trust in me when the entire time I’d been too afraid to even reveal my gender to him, I held my breath. Because I wasn’t really sorry. I’d cherished every little confidence he’d ever fed me.
His green eyes looked sad as he looked down at me and smoothed his hand over his hip. He was still fully dressed, but I could see his arousal tenting out the front of his pants. I had to admit, I’d never had a guy in a tux go down on me before. It was kind of classy.
“Is that why you came back the second night?” he asked. “Because you knew how much I hated one-night stands? You needed to make it two nights, so I wouldn’t be upset?”
I shook my head. “No. I came back to tell you the truth because I hated making you live through another one-night stand. But then you kissed me, and…” I shook my he
ad, letting him know the rest was history.
Masculine triumph entered his gaze as his lips twitched. “So my mouth has some kind of mystical, mind-controlling power over you, huh?”
“You could say that again,” I didn’t mean to mutter.
He laughed and slipped from the bed to take off his jacket and then unbutton his dress shirt. “You’re going to have to show me how this power I have works.”
Sitting up to help him with the top buttons, since he’d started at the bottom, I smoothed my hands inside the shirt, over his chest and slipped if off his shoulders. “All you really have to do is curve it up into a smile, and I’m pretty much a goner.”
“Really.” His lips slid into a pleased grin. “Like this?”
“Mmm hmm.” I pressed my mouth to his pecs and he buried his fingers into my hair, letting me have a little fun before he pulled me back and urged me to lie down again.
Then he removed his pants, watching me the whole time. When he reached for the condom box and took out a foiled package, he held it up between two fingers and said, “Last one. Did you know I’d end up using all of them on you when you bought them for me?”
I shook my head. “I bought them, thinking you’d never use any on me…and hating every woman who’d get them instead.”
He concentrated on rolling it into place before he stretched out above me and gazed into my eyes. “And here, you were the only one.”
I shuddered out a breath, tears glistening in my eyes because I knew I was being given a gift. I didn’t deserve to be here. Gently, I brushed his hair across his forehead, relishing the moment.
“Remy,” he whispered.
When he pushed inside me, I gasped and arched. He clenched his teeth and kept his gaze on mine, even as his green eyes went glazed with lust. “Goddamn,” he rasped. “You always take the whole thing. I’ve had women ask me not to thrust the whole way in because they couldn’t take it. Empty, shallow fucks. But not you. Never you.” He leaned down, his lips hovering over mine as he slowly moved inside me, pushing all the way in before retreating so he could plunge again.
Then he kissed me. I wrapped my legs around him and gripped his hair while our mouths mated. He put more power behind his hips, nudging me up the mattress with each mighty thrust.
“How’s my mouth doing now?” he asked between pants, his breath falling on my ear as he slid his nose along my jaw. “It let you know what I really want, didn’t it?” Then his teeth nipped my earlobe before he whispered, “Say it.”
God, I did know what he wanted, but I couldn’t deliver. It’d hurt too much. So I closed my eyes and clung to him tighter as he pumped his body into mine.
He spiked into me a little harder, piercing me deeper. “Damn it, Remy. Say it.”
I whimpered my refusal and clenched my eyes shut before burying my face in his neck.
But Asher cupped the back of my head with a gentleness I didn’t expect. “Please.”
The ache in his voice was my undoing.
“Te amo,” I whispered.
He groaned and arched his neck up. I watched the satisfaction cross his face as he closed his eyes and let his mouth fall open as if he were experiencing the ultimate nirvana.
Addicted to his response, I repeated, “Te amo,” as I slid my fingers up his throat before leaning in to kiss his pulse. Digging my heels into the base of his back, I urged him deeper into me and I sucked on a spot directly under his ear. “Te amo más de lo que nunca he amado a otro.”
He had no idea what kind of love words I spilled, but they set him off. Clutching my ass in one hand, he gripped my hair in the other. Then he kissed the shit out of me as he surged, coming with a masculine growl of release.
“Dios,” I gasped before screaming, “¡Oh, Dios mío! Asher…”
I swear he passed out the very moment he finished, because he remained motionless on top of me, his forehead pressed to my shoulder. But then I stroked his back and he stirred.
“Don’t move.” He wrapped his hand around my hip even as he sat up. “I’m just going to get rid of this. Be right back.” He glanced back at me as he stood. “Do you need anything?”
I checked between my legs, and winced. “Yes, please.”
With a nod, he disappeared into the bathroom. I listened to the sink water run and turn off again before he returned to me and handed over a washcloth he’d wetted with warm water.
“Gracias.”
I cleaned myself and he sat beside me, watching with drowsy but intent eyes. With any other guy, that probably would’ve weirded me out. But I don’t know. With Asher, it was different. Intimate. Almost bonding. I wasn’t sure how to explain it.
When I was finished, he took the washcloth from my hand and tossed it across the room toward a laundry basket full of dirty clothes.
“You’ll stay the rest of the night?” he asked, turning back to me.
My resistance was already shot to hell, and I was beyond relieved that he wasn’t shoving me out after he’d gotten what he wanted, so I nodded. “Sí.”
“Good.” He crawled back onto the mattress with me and under the covers, curling himself behind me as he wrapped an arm across my waist. “I like sleeping with you.”
I closed my eyes and told myself this didn’t mean he forgave me. None of the beauty that had just transpired between us meant anything. He was still drunk. He could, and probably would, regret everything in the morning. I shouldn’t get my hopes up.
But as I snuggled back into him, I sighed and began to get sleepy comfortable.
Right before I dropped off, I murmured, “I love you,” in English.
His arm around my waist tightened a fraction, tugging me against him just a little bit firmer.
But he never said it back. And as much as it made the raw ache in me grow, I hadn’t expected him to repeat the sentiment.
I slept in later than I intended to. But it was okay, Asher was still passed out, breathing deeply, next to me. I had plenty of time to sneak out before he woke. Except I wasted a couple seconds gazing at him with utter awe, unable to believe I’d gotten one more night with him.
He was so freaking beautiful.
I loved how his lashes rested with such tranquil serenity against his cheekbones, and his lips just barely parted to let out each even breath. His hair swept crazily across his forehead, dark locks mixing in with blonder highlighted threads, and I couldn’t help myself. I reached out to sweep it gently across his forehead.
And of course, the silken locks called to me, begging for more. So I combed two fingers through a few more pieces. My gaze wandered down over his golden bare shoulders to where white sheets were tucked up under his armpits.
I liked knowing he was a side-sleeper. I was a side-sleeper, too. Maybe in some alternate reality, we could’ve actually side-slept more nights together, spooning throughout our sleep.
But in this reality, he was still pissed at me for being a fucking liar, and he’d only slept with me because he’d been drunk and horny off his ass. And I really needed to get out of here before I woke him and stirred up a whole hornets’ nest of awkward.
I didn’t want to know if he was pissed at me for taking advantage of him in his non-sober state last night. No, I was going to end this on a happy, beautiful note, with him sleeping peacefully and my body all deliciously sore from his recent lovemaking.
Grabbing my clothes as soon as I slid as quietly and easily from the bed as possible, I dressed in the half dark and clutched my shoes to my chest so I could tiptoe toward the stairwell.
But from behind me, a sleep-clogged voice asked, “Leaving so soon?”
I gasped and whirled around, slapping my hand over my heart. “Oh, shit. You’re awake.”
“Yeah,” he said. His voice still raspy, he sat up and ran his hands through his hair to cup the sides of his head. The sheets fell to his waist, revealing a warm, toned chest that made my mouth water.
I wanted to return to him so bad, crawl back under the covers and cuddle into h
is heat, stay for the rest of my life. But…yeah.
Reality was such a bitch.
And in reality, he winced, reminding me he must be suffering from a hangover and was truly sober for the first time in hours. Sober and cognizant. Which was why I was sneaking out and should stay away from his bed and delectable body…before he kicked me out and yelled at me for being a tramp who couldn’t keep her hands off him when he was vulnerable and out of his own mind.
I winced, feeling his pain. “Sorry, I wanted to be out of here before you woke.” Shifting my weight from one bare foot the other, I bit my lip. “In case, you know, you regretted last night and didn’t want to see me.”
He stopped clutching his head and dropped his hands to his lap so he could look at me. When he said nothing, I shifted again, growing more uncomfortable than ever.
Looking up at the ceiling, I cleared my throat and asked, “So, do you? Regret it?”
He didn’t answer immediately, and I couldn’t handle the suspense so I shifted my gaze back to him. He wasn’t reassuring me, telling me he regretted nothing, so that had to mean he did. He must wish last night between us had never happened.
The tears and devastation moved in. I hoped I could keep them at bay long enough to leave before he saw any, but I also wanted to stick around another second in case, by some miracle, he decided to…I don’t know…forgive me, or something.
But then he went and admitted, “I’m not sure.”
I blinked, wondering at first if I’d heard him right. Then I shook my head.
Had he just said I’m not sure?
What the hell? I scowled, suddenly no longer crushed, but just plain pissed. But he wasn’t sure? Surely, he knew whether he regretted having sex with me or not. Hell, the only reason a nice guy like him wouldn’t be reassuring me by now had to be because he did regret it.
So, why didn’t he just grow a pair and tell me that already?