Saving Cruz (The Moran Family)

by Alexis James

  “Can you take more?” he growls, and I lift my eyes to his, give a nod as best as I can, and simultaneously wonder if it’s possible to come simply by giving a guy head. And when he starts to thrust hard, fingers gripping my hair tightly, doing exactly what I’d imagined only moments ago, I can feel the warmth seeping between my legs, the familiar tingle taking flight once again.

  “Fuck that’s good.” Cupping his balls, I give him a gentle squeeze. “Jesus, Mia …”

  Having the ability to undo him like this is damn good for my ego. The great Cruz Moran brought to his knees by one blow job. But the thing is I think we both know it’s more than that. It’s about feeling so desperate to connect with the other person that you let go of all your doubts, lower all your walls, and simply release yourself into that person’s care. It’s what he did to me upstairs earlier and what I hope like hell I’m doing to him now.

  “Christ … I’m going to come.” Our eyes meet again. “In your mouth or on your breasts?”

  While both are tempting, this time I want to watch him fall apart all over me. “On my breasts.”

  He groans and grasps his cock in hand, jerking it hard as I pull the shirt wide. With a loud shout, he orgasms, coming all over my stomach, my breasts, his dark head thrown back, mouth open on a moan. The muscles of his arms and stomach are on full display as his hand continues to work through his release. It is quite possibly the most beautifully erotic thing I’ve ever seen, and if I thought I loved him before, the way I feel now crosses all boundaries. My heart floods with warmth for this amazing man, and silently I hand myself, and my heart, over to him forever.

  Crunching on burnt bacon, I glance over at Mia and smile. We’re outside on the deck, propped up on lounge chairs, heaping plates of food in front of us. Burnt bacon aside, she’s an amazing cook. There’s a fluffy cheese and veggie omelet, fruit salad, and slices of whole wheat toast piled high, which she’s currently plowing through like a person who hasn’t eaten in a week. Guess I must have worked her over pretty hard. My smile widens at the thought.

  She throws me a curious look. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  Her eyes narrow. “You’re sitting there grinning at me for no reason. Spill.”

  Chuckling, I give her hand a squeeze and reach for my coffee. “You’re just adorable, that’s all.” And she is, sitting there in my shirt, those sleek legs and red-tipped toes. Her hair is piled up on top of her head in a messy bun with long curly tendrils spilling down around her neck. I never imagined I’d be content to simply share something so basic with a woman ever again, but here I sit, happy as the fucking proverbial clam.

  Her cheeks flush at the compliment. “Thanks. I think.”

  “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

  Her smile is warm and inviting, hinting at the connection between us. “I do know, because you tell me all the time.”

  “Well it’s true.”

  We eat in silence for a few more minutes, watching the occasional boat out on the water, soaking up the warm fall sun. After a while, she glances at me, tapping her nails on the ceramic coffee mug. “Was there something you wanted to do today?”

  With a shrug I reply, “Not really. You?”

  She shakes her head, sending more tendrils spilling down onto her neck. “Nope. I’m content to just hang out here.”

  Funny, but that’s what I assumed she’d say. Mia isn’t like any of the other women I’ve ever met, though to be fair those women were mostly the paid kind. She’s so very unassuming and fully unimpressed with money or titles. She knows I could afford to take her anywhere, do anything, and yet she’s perfectly happy sitting in a lounge chair on my deck.

  An odd, foreign feeling begins to warm my heart: a mixture of satisfaction, happiness and outright fear. My gut tells me to gather her close and never let go, but my head cautions me about the truth she doesn’t know—the truth that could make her run far and fast away. I need to come clean if I have any hope of having a future with her. And although I’m still not certain that’s what I do want, I know without a doubt that I can’t give her up.

  “I met Dani when I was a freshman in high school. It was love at first sight.” Mia’s eyes meet mine and although she remains silent, she’s quick to reach out and weave our fingers together, giving me the strength to go on. “We were each other’s everything. We were each other’s first.” She nods in understanding. “Days would go by and just when I thought I couldn’t love her more, something would happen and I’d fall deeper in love.” Unable to look at her anymore, I turn my gaze to the azure water that laps softly against the dock. “I suppose that’s how first love is supposed to be. It was wild, out of control, all consuming. But at the time all I knew was that it was perfect. It felt … right.”

  Setting my plate aside, I get to my feet and move to the end of the deck, recalling the vivid memories of that painful night so long ago. “We had plans for the future. Lots of plans. We were going to attend Harvard together, get an apartment together, and marry when we graduated. But our senior year in high school everything changed.”

  Nausea rolls in my stomach, and I force myself to swallow it down. This is something that has to be done. I owe Mia—and in a way Dani too—that much. “We’d been arguing off and on for a few days.” I can’t bring myself to say the words aloud … that she wanted an abortion and I was doing everything in my power to keep her from doing it. “Anyway, we were at a party. I’d had a beer early in the evening, but I’d been working a lot of twelve-hour shifts and hadn’t been sleeping well because of the tension between us.” Shaking my head, I shove my hands in my pockets and soldier on. “Dani was begging me to hand over the keys, but I was being an ass. I was pissed at her and insistent that I was fine to drive.” My heart picks up speed and unshed tears burn in my eyes. “I wasn’t.”

  “Cruz, you don’t have to do this,” Mia says softly.

  Turning to face her, I reply, “Yeah, I do.” Returning to my seat, I settle at the end of the lounger facing her, head down, elbows on my knees and hands clasped tightly together. “I don’t know what happened, but at some point I nodded off. The car flipped end over end and we smashed headfirst into a tree.” Her loud, audible gasp feels like needles on my skin. “She didn’t die immediately.”

  I see Mia’s feet settle in between mine, feel the softness of her hands gently cover the top of my own. “I am so sorry.”

  “It was my fault. If I’d have given her the keys, or just stayed where we were, she might be alive.” I risk a glance her direction and see tears trickling down her face. “She was pregnant, Mia.”

  Our heads bow together, foreheads touching. Tears drip down onto our joined hands and it’s impossible to discern whether they’re hers or mine. The pain is excruciating and at the same time there’s this almost immediate relief, as if by saying the words out loud to this beautiful woman I’m allowing myself to be free to love again. As such, I’m slowly being healed of the wound I’ve borne for so many, many years.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Mia whispers.

  “There’s nothing to say.” I sigh heavily, the conflicting emotions of elation and sadness at odds with one another. “I wanted you to know the truth.”

  Her eyes meet mine and her fingers gently wipe away the wetness on my face. “Thank you for telling me.” Leaning closer, she lightly presses her lips to my cheek, whispering, “I love you.”

  Her love is what’s keeping me strong, what’s making me believe that now, after all these years, I finally have the right to be happy, the right to love again. And although I’m nowhere near ready to say anything in return, I’m well aware that what I feel for her is rare, special, and as deep or deeper than what I felt for Dani.

  “Thank you, querida. That means everything to me.”

  The heavy conversation might have put a damper on an otherwise amazing Saturday had Mia not given me the silence I so desperately needed by insisting on doing the dishes alone. By the time I reentered the hous
e to find her wiping down the counters, I had my head in a semi-good space. The lingering relief from coming clean was a big reason for that but so was her gentle, loving reaction—warm and giving and not the least bit overbearing.

  She sends me a wide grin. “We should go work out in that amazing exercise room of yours, especially since I ingested a million calories.”

  Chuckling, I take the rag from her hand and toss it aside, pulling her into my arms. “I doubt it was a million.” My hands grasp her ass. “Besides, I love your curves.”

  She rolls her eyes at me. “Yeah, well, after that meal there will be plenty more of them.” It’s my turn to roll my eyes then smack her ass with my palm, noting quickly how her eyes sparkle with interest.

  Fifteen minutes later, she’s tearing up the elliptical and I’m attempting to jog on the treadmill. Music is blaring from the speakers, some playlist she insisted I’d like that she uses in the gym. It’s okay but not nearly distracting enough to keep me on task. Of course, it could be that I’m slightly preoccupied watching her firm legs, the curve of her ass, the sculpted muscles in her arms. She works hard for that amazing body, and I fully appreciate all the work she puts into it. So does my body, apparently.

  Mia glances over at me. “What’s the matter? How come you stopped running?”

  I glance down at my waist and the obvious tent in my shorts. “Got my mind on other things.”

  She bursts out laughing. “Again? Really?”

  I shrug, unapologetic. “Not my fault you’re so damn hot in those clothes.” Spandex was made for her body, that’s for sure.

  “You’re ridiculous. I’m sweaty and stinky and I really, really need a shower.” Her brow lifts. “And that was before I started working out.”

  Chuckling, I hit the stop button on the machine and stroll to the bench, shedding my clothes without hesitation and letting her see for herself how turned on I am. “I don’t care. Come here, belleza.” Satisfied to see her eagerly complying with my demand, I take a seat and watch her strip, stroking my cock in anticipation.

  She moves toward me slowly, eyes dark and sultry, nipples pebbled as she straddles my lap and immediately slides me inside her wet body. Our mutual groans echo off the walls, lost amidst the pounding beat of the music. The mirrored walls of the gym give me a full, unobstructed view of her beautiful body splayed across mine, full breasts in my palms, head tilted back as she rides me slowly. The view alone is enough to make me come on the spot, and I find I have to force my gaze aside to regain some sense of control.

  Her eyes widen and she glances at me. “Everywhere I look I can see us.”

  “I know.” My lips meet hers. “Fuck me, baby. Let me watch you.”

  She moans and increases the pace, easing my head to her breast and encouraging me to suckle. My eyes return to the mirror, seeing her heart shaped ass bouncing on my cock, my fingers splayed across her back. Better than any erotic film, I can feel myself harden further, the familiar tightening in my groin that indicates an orgasm is not too far off.

  Sliding my hand between our bodies, I roll her clit with my thumb, giving her just the right amount of pressure to send her moaning loudly and to ride me harder. Christ … this woman fucks like none other I’ve ever been with. With her whole heart, her entire body, and her mind fully released to enjoy the experience completely.

  “Oh God … Yes!” Her scream is what sends me over, groaning out my release between her breasts. Jesus, every time with her is better than the last, and this time is no exception. And as we shudder and shake and grip one another tightly, I begin to imagine what this will be like weeks from now, months from now.

  With a lazy grin, I realize I can’t wait to find out.

  Mia’s feet are propped up on my lap, my thumbs working her arches as the music floats around us. We’re showered and dressed in clean clothes, though it’s fair to say that knowing she’s bare beneath my shirt and gym shorts is totally distracting. Damp curls spill across her shoulders and her eyes drift closed occasionally as she fully absorbs the chords of the Spanish guitar.

  “I love this music,” she comments.

  “This is what I was raised on.”

  She opens her eyes and tucks a chunk of hair behind one ear. “I can see that. Your mom had similar music playing at her house.” Her lips lift in a smile. “That feels wonderful.”

  It feels … normal, I think to myself. Normal is something I haven’t had in years. Too many years, I remind myself. “Thank you for staying.”

  Warm brown eyes meet mine. “You don’t need to thank me. I love being here with you.”

  I fully expect her words to send a surge of fear racing through me but the exact opposite happens. My chest fills with warmth for the amazing woman who has so easily managed to become such an integral part of my life.

  Before I can fully investigate the oddity of that thought, the doorbell rings. Mia shoots me a concerned look, glancing down at her odd ensemble. “Should I go upstairs?”

  “No, you’re fine. Stay right there.” I drop a quick kiss on her lips and stroll across the room just as the bell peels again. Yanking the door open, I find Marco standing there tossing his keys around his finger. “Jesus, man, give me a minute.”

  “Well hello to you too, Big Brother,” he replies, pushing me aside and strolling into the house. He stops walking the moment he sees Mia sitting there on my couch, her body swimming in my oversized clothes. “Well, well, well. You’re a sight for sore eyes, gorgeous.”

  She grins. “Hey, Marco.”

  Furious at the intrusion and at his over-eager greeting, I snarl, “What do you want?”

  He smirks at me. “Nothing. Was going to see if you wanted to grab a beer.”

  “The phone works.”

  His brow shoots up. “Does it? Yours doesn’t seem to.” Quickly scrolling through his phone, he states, “Hmm … a couple of texts I sent last night. No answer. Two more again today and a few voicemails and still no response. ” His grin splits wide open. “You should probably replace your phone.”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  Marco’s eyes settle on Mia as he smirks. “Yeah, I bet.” Ass that he is, he takes a seat in the chair facing her and settles in. “You look beautiful today, Mia. New hairstyle? New clothes?”

  “Knock it off.” Retaking my seat, I gather her hand in mine and throw him a dark look.

  Mia’s face flames. “Um, we’re just hanging out.”

  He snickers. “Yes, I can see that.”

  Patience gone, I snap, “What do you want, Marco?”

  He ignores my question and poses his response to my uneasy couch mate. “So, Mia, tell me about your friend Amita.”

  A bright smile lights her face. “I noticed how you two seemed interested in one another.”

  He scoffs. “Interested? My ass. The girl wants me.”

  Mia and I exchange an amused look. “Oh, I don’t doubt it, though it appears to me you want her too.” She glances back at my brother with a warning look. “Sorry to tell you, but she’s taken.”

  “That’s unfortunate.” His eyes drift to mine. “So you finally decided to pull your head out of your ass and make this girl yours?”

  My eyes narrow in irritation. “What do you think?”

  Marco smirks again. “I think it looks like you two belong together.” He shoots Mia a wink. “And that you might have spent the past few hours fucking, but that’s just a guess on my part.” Mia’s eyes widen and her face flushes bright red at his less than respectable comment.

  I’m up and out of my seat, pointing to the door and snapping, “Out. Now. And apologize to Mia for being crass.”

  Slowly getting to his feet, he smirks. “Leave and then apologize? Or apologize and then leave?”

  “Dammit, Marco!” My brother knows how to push every one of my buttons and if Mia weren’t sitting right here with us, I’d acquaint my fist with his face.

  Marco bends over and takes Mia’s hand. “My apologies, Miss Elliott, for my cras
s words.” He drops a kiss on her hand. “Have fun, beautiful. You look very happy.”

  “Thank you, Marco, I am.”

  He smacks me hard on the chest and scurries toward the door. “Good seeing you, Big Brother. Take care of that girl.”

  “I will.”

  Stepping out onto the porch, his look darkens and his words come out between clenched teeth, lowered to almost a whisper so only I can hear him. “You’d better.”

  The warning hangs in the air as he walks away, sliding behind the wheel of his sleek, white sports car without once looking back at me. A part of me is happy that he constantly defends her and always watches out for her. The other part, the jealous and insecure part, takes issue with his familiarity, the hand holding, the winking. By the time I settle in next to Mia once again, I’m having trouble shaking off the green-eyed monster and brushing it off as my brother’s usual SOP.

  “You shouldn’t let him make you so crazy,” she states, snuggling against my shoulder.

  “I know.”

  A few tense moments pass. Then she whispers, “Are you jealous?”

  “No, of course not.”

  Mia climbs into my lap and takes my face in her hands. “You have nothing to be jealous of. I want you and I think by now you’d know that.” She gives me a moment to absorb her words. “I love you, Cruz, even if you don’t love me, even if you don’t want everything I do, I will still love you.” She kisses me then softly says the words against my lips. “I am yours.”

  As we fall into the kiss, I feel her words seep into my pores, my blood, until they settle easily in my heart. She is mine and whether I fully acknowledge it aloud, I know she belongs to me in every way possible. For better or worse, we are in this now, and I have a responsibility to take care of her—not because my brother said I should but because my heart tells me to.