by Alexis James
Oh my God … is he still paying women for sex?
My stomach rolls when I think of how easily I handed over what he used to dish out cash for. Makes me wonder how I measure up to the pros. And suddenly it all comes flooding back … the insecurities, the self-doubt … Everything comes rising right back to the surface as it never left in the first place but has been tucked away for safekeeping. “You should go.”
Perplexed, he moves toward me, and I immediately throw up my hands defensively and shake my head. Having his hands anywhere near me now will only distract me from the truth—the truth that this beautiful, wealthy man, who for a hot minute I considered my own, so easily shed all his own morals because just the idea of being emotionally intimate with someone terrified him so much.
Cruz frowns, his face losing color. “What the hell, Mia? What’s going on?”
Swallowing back the nausea that’s creeping steadily up my throat, I force a breath. “Are you still … are you … are you still doing that?”
Stunned, he snaps, “No, of course not.” Dragging his hand through his hair he sends me a dark look. “What’s your issue with this? We’ve both slept with other people. The only difference is that you were emotionally involved with them and I wasn’t. It was just sex.”
The fact that I don’t really believe him does not sit well … at all. It says a lot about what little trust I have in him and how very fragile the trust I do have is, which is surprising given how far we’ve come in the past few weeks. Being able to trust the person I’m sleeping with is non-negotiable.
Shame washes over me. God, could I be any more of an idiot? Why the hell did I ever believe I’d be enough for him? Of course he’d never settle for a normal relationship with me, not when he could have any number of women at his beck and call. Clearly there are many perks to being a millionaire; ordering up women like takeout must be one as well.
“Please, Cruz, just go.”
His mouth hangs opens like he wants to argue. Then he snaps it shut and stalks upstairs to retrieve his duffle bag. I hear him pounding back down the stairs and into the living room, and I somehow muster the courage to face him. He’s seated on the edge of the couch, lacing up his sneakers, dark hair spilling across his face. My heart tightens painfully when I realize that this is it. He walks out and we’re done. And even though I don’t trust him like I should, and I’m truly sickened to think how he’d lower his standards, I’m not ready to say a final goodbye.
Moving slowly out into the room, I state, “I just need some time to absorb this news is all.”
Getting to his feet, he glares at me. “Why bother? Thinking it over won’t change the facts.” He shakes his head and picks up his keys from the coffee table. “You know, I thought you’d understand. You of all people should know that for me, paying for sex made sense.” His jaw tightens. “I trusted you with my past, Mia. I’ve told you things I’ve never told anyone else, not even my family. And yet you stand there, all indignant and offended because of a choice I made that had absolutely nothing to do with you.” When he looks at me, his eyes are empty. “You say you love me. Well, if you do, you have to love everything, the good and the bad. ”
Tears fill my eyes and roll in waves down my face. “I do love you.”
Something I’d refer to as a sneer crosses his face. “Really? Because it seems like you love only certain parts of me, the parts you deem acceptable and worthy. And if that’s the case, I really wish you wouldn’t.”
I watch as he moves toward the front door, heart pounding loudly in my chest. “I do love you. There are just parts of you that scare me.”
His forward motion stops and this time when he faces me he allows me to see the pain that’s etched there. “There are parts that scare me too, Mia, but I won’t lie to you. If the truth is too much to take, so be it. I can’t change what’s happened and I won’t apologize for it. I’m a grown man, I was careful, and no one got hurt.”
I know he’s right. I know in my head that I’m overreacting to something that has no bearing on what we have together. But the tiny part in my heart that’s filled with doubt simply can’t accept what he’s done. It makes me feel dirty. It makes what we’ve shared together seem cheap.
All of a sudden all this craziness begins to make sense. His belligerent insistence to use condoms, his almost naïve-like approach to our relationship. He has in effect functioned robotically since losing Dani, never once allowing himself to really feel. Pushing him to be something or someone he’s not will only backfire on me.
“You’re not going to be able to get past this, are you?” His voice is raw, filled with emotion and pain, and yes, a whole bunch of anger. I suppose he’s entitled to that; I am standing in judgement of something I can’t comprehend.
I shrug. “I don’t know. It’s hard to wrap my mind around it, especially when I think about what we’ve done together.” My eyes drift up to the second story, recalling the mind-numbing events of last night.
He takes a few steps, putting us closer together but still far enough to flee. “You can’t compare what I did with those women to what you and I do. It’s more than sex with us, Mia. You know that.”
Nodding, I whisper, “I do know that.”
Large hands gently reach out and grasp my arms. “Tell me what you want, from me, from us. I need the truth.”
The truth? The truth is bigger and scarier than I feel either of us is ready for, but the time has come to finally stop hiding, to stop being afraid to speak for fear of losing him. Losing him isn’t the issue anyway, since I’ve never really had him, not completely. He’s always had one foot out the door and his heart securely locked away. Untouchable. Now he’s giving me the opportunity to lay it all out, to come clean and state my intentions, and all I want to do is run upstairs and bury my head under the covers like I used to when I was a child.
But the strength I’ve gained in these past few months on this wild ride with him rises to the surface, shoving aside the self-doubt and insecurity and taking charge. Stating my intentions may indeed cost me Cruz, but at least I will never regret withholding the truth.
“I want you to love me. I want us to spend time together, to go out once in a while. I want to know if I call you and ask you to come over, I don’t have to worry about putting you off or moving too fast. I want to tell you what I’m thinking, instead of biting my tongue and staying quiet because I’m worried about losing you.” My fingers swipe under my eyes, doing nothing to stem the flow. “I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine.”
Oddly enough, he doesn’t seem the least bit shocked by my sudden verbal diarrhea. I, on the other hand, am sweating bullets and still attempting to swallow back the urge to barf. His eyes warm and the hard anger from minutes before fades away as he says, “I want to love you the way you deserve to be loved. I like spending time with you, and I want more than anything for you not to hold back. Tell me what scares you, what pisses you off, what turns you on. Tell me your truth, and I’ll do my best to tell you mine.” He buries his face in my hair. “I am yours, belleza.”
My heart clenches painfully at his raw, uncensored words. This is big for him. Really, really big. He is handing his heart over to me, whether he realizes it or not. Sure, it’s not love, and for now that’s okay. That is one thing I truly do understand and admire, his deep belief that love is forever, no regrets, no turning your back, nothing but full steam ahead.
With his declaration, however, comes the unanswered questions that still linger, the worries that still send my stomach roiling. But in keeping with this odd truce we’ve reached, I gather my strength and ask, “Then tell me why the idea of meeting my parents has you so freaked out?”
His hands cup my face. “Meeting them may not be a big deal to you, but it is to me. It’s a step forward. A big damn step.” He presses his lips to my forehead. “Once I meet them, there will be no turning back.”
All of sudden his nervousness makes sense. Cruz is all about family and family is the most i
mportant thing in his world. More important than work. More important than money. More important than me. I can now see why to him this is almost equal to a marriage proposal; you don’t meet your girlfriend’s parents without a certain amount of expectation being there on their part. To him meeting my parents is as good as any declaration of love.
The puzzle pieces that make up the confusing, intoxicating, irritating, and loving man I’ve grown to know are slowly sliding into place. And while I don’t believe I’ll ever truly understand what makes him tick, understanding where his fears originate from goes a long way in helping me have the patience to wait for him. Thank God I know he’s worth it.
I’m grateful this week is less drama-filled than the past two. The relaxing weekend spent at Mia’s apartment is part of the reason but so are our many brutal, candid talks. The newfound openness between us is a constant reminder to me that even though she works for me, she is still the most important person in my life. Making a conscious effort to find that equal space between our working relationship and our personal one is a challenge, but I owe her nothing less.
So every morning I greet her with a smile and at some point during the day, I manage to pull her aside and kiss her. There’s no more Miss Elliott, though she continues to use my name formally unless we’re alone. I sure as hell should give her credit; she’s got this game down pat. I’m the one who keeps anticipating problems where there are none.
She’s not approached the subject of meeting her parents again and as it stands now, I’m still sitting solidly on the fence. I know she doesn’t fully comprehend why this is such an issue for me, but family approval is a big deal. I’d hate to think her parents believe I’m this big bad boss man looking to take advantage of his young assistant. Which in a way I am.
There’s a brief knock at my door. Then she steps inside, trusty tablet in hand and a smile just for me lighting her face. “Sorry to bother you.”
“No bother.”
She settles into the chair across from me and motions to her tablet. “I have a few things to go over with you since I won’t be here tomorrow.”
“Of course.”
Dutifully, she rattles off the list of items, asks a few questions and makes some cursory notes. When she’s finished, she sets the tablet aside and sends me a wide grin. “Would you like to come for dinner tonight? I’d like to see you, you know, since I’ll be busy this weekend.”
She’s so effortlessly given me a pass on making a decision about meeting her parents. I feel humbled … and just a bit mortified at how easily I’ve allowed her to do it. “Sure. Dinner would be great. Can I bring anything?”
With a quick shake of her head, she rises. “No thanks. Come by whenever. We’ll eat around seven if that works for you.”
“See you soon.”
Once I’m alone, I blow out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding and marvel at the ease to which she and I have melded into this phase of our relationship. Sure, there have been a lot of ups and down, a good dose of anger on my part, and many tears on hers, but it feels like we’ve made progress this past week. There’s a new level of trust between us that wasn’t there before. It could be because she now knows all my hidden sins. It could be because she now has the freedom to say anything that pops into her beautiful head. What I do know is that I like where this is heading and even though I continue to anticipate the fear that never seems to fully rise to the surface, I also can’t accept that I’m completely worthy of this or of her either.
When I arrive at her apartment it feels more like coming home than my actual home does. There’s warmth there that’s missing from my too large, too cold mausoleum. Warmth that Mia brings simply by being in the room. She greets me with a bright smile and a long, juicy kiss that hints at a promise of what to expect later, before tugging me into the kitchen by the hand. “Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes.”
“Smells amazing,” I comment, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.
“Did you bring something to change into?”
I tug at the tie around my neck, pulling it loose and shoving it in my pocket. “No, but I’m fine.”
“You should leave a few things here.” By the shocked look on her face, I can tell she uttered the words without once giving thought to the meaning behind them. I suppose it’s going to take her time to quit feeling the need to censor herself. Makes me feel like an ass to realize just how much she was doing this before our talk last weekend. Not so smart after all, eh, Moran? “I just meant … you know …”
With a firm tug, she’s plastered against my chest and my arms engulf her. “I know what you meant, belleza, and I agree. Leaving a few things here is a good idea.”
Blinking in shock, she stammers, “You … you agree?”
Chuckling, I grin. “Yes, I do. And I’m not freaked out by the idea of it either. Shocking, huh?”
We share a laugh then her eyes warm, and she loops her hands around my neck. “You surprise me each and every day, Mr. Moran.”
“Is that a good thing?”
Rising up on her toes, she presses her lips to mine and whispers, “It’s a very good thing.”
I could easily get lost in her, in her embrace, in the soft lips that claim mine and open wide to receive my tongue. But deep down I know I owe her more than a quick fuck. I owe her time, conversation, maybe even a little romance. I want to do those things. I want her to know that even though I still have a certain amount of doubt about where this is headed, I’m willing to give it—and her—my all when we’re together.
Lifting my mouth from hers, I growl, “You’re trying to distract me.”
She grins. “Is it working?”
My hands grasp her ass, pulling her in tight against my semi-ridged cock. “What do you think?”
One dark brow arches. “Should I turn the stove off?”
The inner war that’s raging is quickly being diverted by her wandering hands that slide between us and begin to work the buttons on my shirt. Decision made, I reach around her and turn the burner off then grasp her ass again and lift her off her feet.
We make it as far as the couch before we’re stripping one another quickly, a heady mixture of hands and lips and tongues. Once she’s gloriously naked and those intoxicating eyes are begging me silently, I lift her up and over the arm of the couch, spread her legs with my foot, and slam in to the hilt. She groans her approval, tipping back her head and allowing that mass of thick hair to spill down across her shoulders. She’s as beautiful from behind as she is from the front, silky olive skin on full display as I slide in again and again and slowly work her up.
For all the times the two of us have been together, each and every time feels different … better … more intense and this time is no exception. And even though I’ve been with my share of professionals over the years, nothing will compare to the trust Mia places in me to care for her body, giving it over to me for my pleasure and hers.
“Faster,” she whimpers.
My hands slide around, fingering her nipples and twisting just hard enough to make her moan. “Patience, Mia. I want to savor you.”
The words have the desired effect, making her impossibly wet around my cock. I’d love nothing more than to pound into her at a furious pace but taking my time with her and bringing her to a hard, screaming orgasm is much more enticing than a quick minute or two to get us both off. What she doesn’t know is that I could stay buried inside of her for hours and still not be satisfied. Frankly, I doubt I’ll ever have my fill of this exquisite, brown-eyed beauty.
Leaning over her body, I bury my face in her hair and thrust harder. She squeals and wiggles under me, fingers grasping mine as, together, we continue to work her nipples. I can tell she’s getting close—the rapid breathing, the moaning and gasping—and gritting my teeth, I pull out and turn her in my arms. I don’t give her a moment to protest, lowering us both to the carpet and immediately sucking a hard nipple into my mouth.
Her fingers tear at my hair, hips
rolling in invitation, in need. “Cruz … please. I want you inside me.”
“Patience.” My lips skim the surface of each breast, her neck, her flat belly. I kiss my way down one leg and then back up the other, pushing them apart and drifting my tongue over her damp center. She groans in frustration and her hips buck. With a chuckle, I slide two fingers in deep. “Don’t worry, gorgeous girl, I’ll make you come.”
“Now,” she demands. “Make me come now.”
Pulling my hand and mouth away, I move up her body and drift my wet fingers over her lips. “Open for me.” She hesitates briefly, uncertainty skating through her eyes before she complies and I slide my fingers in. The moment she begins to suck, I thrust deep once again and go in for the kill. Blinded to nothing else but pleasing us both, I pump harder and faster each time, until we’re a blur of entangled limbs, groans, and sweat.
We come together beautifully, bodies arching toward one another, hands grasping. She moans my name, and I moan hers. Then we’re kissing and it’s as intense as the act itself. We pant into each other’s mouths, tongues dueling, teeth nipping, lips tasting again and again, until reality starts to surface and we’re sharing only soft, sweet kisses.
Her eyes drift open, a starry mixture of awe and love, and I find myself curious about what she sees in mine. I’m spellbound … by this … by her … by all that’s happened in the past few months. It all feels out-of-body yet oddly real at the same time. A strange mixture for sure. Certainly nothing I could have predicted or even hoped for. Nothing I ever believed I was worthy of. Right here in this moment there’s an odd sense of contentment that fills me. A sense of rightness that’s been missing for years. And while the words are quite literally on my lips, the words I know she longs to hear, the words I finally believe with all my heart, I still cannot bring myself to say them aloud. Something still holds me back. Something … someone … continues to have a hold over me that I’m beginning to believe might be there always.