Seduction (20 page)

I smooth my fingers over his plump bottom lip. “Can’t we leave it in the past?”

“Not this time, baby.” He urges me to sit.

I do, right on his lap, locking my ankles behind his back. This is the most vulnerable position any couple can share. We’re face-to-face, our bodies perfectly aligned. “What do you want to know?”

“Don’t make me ask.”

“Craig.” Part of me is devastated that he actually thinks I’d get an abortion. But I understand his concern. “There’s something important I need to say.” I pray he listens. “Respect the choices I make. Even if they’re wrong. Don’t be so quick to judge anyone.” I hold on to his shoulders, searching his face for any indication of agreement.

“The only woman I reserve the right to judge is the one I share my life with.”

Touché.
I can’t deny him
that
consideration.

“Meet me halfway, Marisela—don’t lie to me about where you’re going, who you’re seeing. I can’t handle that.”

He’s right about that. Secrets serve no purpose. “Estevan is a liar. I lost the baby after he had a head-on collision with a light pole, with me in the passenger seat. I underwent a D&C, a common procedure after a miscarriage.”

“I know what it is,” he murmurs, looking away from me. “Guess who feels stupid now?”

I cup his cheeks sympathetically. “We’re learning how to trust, growing along the way.” Imagine me saying that to him—to anyone, really.

His gaze darts around the room, then back. “I need you.”

I smooth his hair, mesmerized by his thick girly lashes and those caramel-colored eyes. “Me, too.”

On a growl, he palms my ass cheeks. I feel his shaft swell between my legs. I arch my back, letting him move me wherever I need to be so he can penetrate me. He peppers my neck with kisses, his tongue blazing a hot, wet trail down my throat. “I love your shoulders,” he says, tickling them. “And your nipples.” He kisses each peak reverently. “I love your stomach.” His knuckles skate across my abs. “And I fucking love being inside you.”

He slams into me then, lifting me, guiding my hips, our centers spiraling in unison.

“Fuck, Marisela.” He gently positions me on my back.

I spread my legs wide and he pumps deeper. I feel the early pulse of orgasm and buck against him. He slides his hand between our bodies, caressing my clit. It’s too much—I’m on the verge of losing control of everything, including my heart.

“Craig…please.” I try to push his hand away. But the more he manipulates my body, the closer I get to bursting. Until…“I love you.”

He freezes. Then pulls back just enough so he can see my eyes. “You love me?”

I loop my arms around his neck, urging him closer. “So much it hurts.”

He growls. “Look at me, Marisela.” I do. His fervent eyes search mine as he methodically thrusts in and out of me. “You’re mine now—
forever.
”

Although the idea of forever is pretty damn scary, he’s right. I never had a chance after we met up that first night at the Devil’s Den. I harbored that girl-crush I had on him for a year and a half. Even during my time with Estevan, my mind often wandered back to the night when Craig showed up unannounced at my sister’s apartment. I wanted him to look at me someday the way he stared at her. And the next morning when I begged Robyn to let Craig take me to H.E.B., well, I’m the one who flirted.

I recall Craig’s
exact
words.
You’re hot, baby,
he said, smiling at me.
But don’t try to outrun your childhood. When the time’s right, you’ll know. And when it’s the right guy—the whole world will come crashing down on you.
His honorable and gentle rejection.

I think my world just collapsed.

“Mine, baby.” His whisper pulls me back to reality. The bed frame groans as he drives into me.

I raise my chin and meet his eyes, suddenly forgetting what I was going to say, all my awareness sucked away by our mingled cries of pleasure.

“Four days,” I explain to Marisela as I button my pants. “I’ll be back on Thursday.”

“But…” She looks so sad.

I know what she’s thinking. Our reconciliation is tenuous right now. The last thing I want to do is leave her alone. Especially after she gave me the most precious gift I could ever receive—her love. But I have personal and professional business to take care of. Things I can’t tell her about yet. “Try to understand, baby.” I walk to the edge of the bed. “If that bottom lip droops any lower, it’s going to hit the floor.”

That makes her giggle.

“Ready to go home?”

She’s freshly showered, her long, curly hair still damp. She looks too good. And those leather pants. I adjust myself. How long will she have this effect on me? I can’t possibly take her anywhere in public if every time she wears something sexy I get an erection. Locking her in my bedroom is a possible alternative. I grin.

“What?” she asks, hopping up.

“Nothing, darlin’. Just good old Texas-boy humor.”

“Care to share?”

“Did you hear anything about girl humor?”

“No.”

“Well?” I smack her ass as she scoots ahead of me, walking to the door.

Fifteen minutes later, we’re checked out of the hotel and headed back to Corpus. I called Michael earlier and he assured me he’d safely deliver her bike to Third Coast Motorsports for repairs. As for Estevan—my heart thunders whenever I think about him—that’s one of the reasons I’m headed to Austin with my cousin. His violence is escalating. And I believe his next target is Marisela. I can’t let that happen. I gaze over at her; she’s staring out the side window.

“What happens now?” she asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Our relationship,” she says, her attention still focused on the passing landscape. “Are we officially back together?”

If she were looking at me she wouldn’t have missed the frustrated look I just gave. “You need to ask?”

“Sex doesn’t make things better.”

“No?” I ask. “Sounds like something your sister would say.”

Now she stares at me. “She did.”

“Did you agree with her just to agree, or do you actually believe that?”

“Guess it depends on the situation.”

“Do you
feel
better?”

I’m rewarded with a radiant smile. Then she holds up four fingers. “You tell me.”

“Four orgasms in three hours,” I say. “Think I’m slacking?”

“God…” She slaps my arm. “You’re so arrogant sometimes.”

“Guilty,” I admit. “But I know what I’m doing.”

“You should,” she chides. “Practice makes perfect. Lord knows you’ve had enough.”

A point of contention I hope we can get over soon. The past should remain where it is—part of history. It’s the perfect future I’m after now.
With her.

“Craig,” she cries, holding her hand over her mouth. “Pull over,
now.
”

She’s flushed. I come to a screeching halt on the shoulder and she jumps out of the car. I follow, racing around the front of my vehicle to catch her throwing up. I slip behind her and gather her hair up, pulling it out of her face. “Are you sick, baby?”

She coughs, then cups her face with both hands. “Happened last night too, right before my set.”

“What did you eat yesterday?” I ask, deeply concerned.

She turns, obviously thinking about it. “Carrot sticks and orange juice.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s crazy, Marisela. You’re not a goddamned rabbit.”

I press the back of my hand to her forehead. She’s warm, but I don’t think she has a fever. “Let me take you to the doctor.”

“No.” She feigns a smile.

“All right, let’s get you home.” I help her back inside.

We arrive at Macey’s thirty minutes later.

As usual, there’s a crowd in the pool room. Macey is hosting another party, the ones I’ve grown to dislike since my girlfriend moved in.

“Hey, baby girl,” Macey says, giving Marisela a big hug. “Craig.”

I roll my eyes. “Macey. What are we celebrating today?”

“We’re a little early,” she says, “but Tuesday is Use Your Common Sense Day.”

“What?”

“Don’t panic.” She pats my arm. “I’d never expect you to keep that holiday.”

Marisela laughs.

Ten minutes alone with Macey and I’ll spank her straight. Someone needs to—she’s out of control. I take Marisela by the elbow and steer her toward the stairs. “That woman gets on my nerves.” We go to her room.

I drop her backpack on the floor, then glance at my watch. “We have a couple of hours to kill. I need to be home by three, darlin’. Lucas stayed in town an extra day to accommodate my schedule.”

She raises a brow. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing you need to know about yet.” I draw her into a tight embrace and kiss the top of her head. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Hungry?”

Her eyes sparkle. “How about Whataburger?”

Unlike most girls I know, Marisela can devour a double-meat burger as quick as any guy. I love that about her. “Let’s go.” I offer her my arm.

I roll over and smack the snooze button on my alarm clock. Nine
A.M.
on Tuesday—the second day Craig is MIA. I don’t have a freakin’ clue what’s going on. He calls every night before bed, tells me he loves me, asks me how I’m feeling, then hangs up. It’s all very covert and I don’t like it. I’m the queen of secrets. That’s the way he’s makes me feel, anyway. But guess who’s catching up?

Someone knocks on the door.

“Come in.” I wipe drool off the corner of my mouth and force myself to sit.

“You’re not going to believe what I did!” Macey prances into my room dressed in a
Leave It to Beaver
fifties-mom dress. Perfect as always.

“You make me sick,” I groan, placing my feet on the floor.

She totally ignores my negativity and flashes plane tickets in my face. “Round trip to Paris.”

“Really?” I smile. “When? With who? Wesley?”

“Christmas,” she beams. “I’m meeting a group of friends I hooked up with in Italy three years ago. As for my wayward boyfriend…” She rolls her eyes. “He’ll be vacationing with his family in Maui for the holiday. So I’m going solo.”

“Wow.” I’m just a little envious, of course. “Didn’t jock boy invite you to join his parents?”

“Really?” She flops on my bed. “I’ve never set eyes on his father and mother. Can you imagine Wesley inviting me to his mother’s very formal drawing room and introducing me as his regular fuck?”

Sometimes I don’t like the way she degrades herself, although she tries to mask it with humor. “His loss,” I say.

She stares at me long and hard. “You think so?”

I hold her hands. “Macey, you’re the most compassionate and honest person I’ve ever met. Do you even need to ask?” Is that a tear I see in her eye?

“Thank you, baby girl.” She grins. “So what’s up with Troll Boy?”

“What?” I chuckle. “Craig is the furthest thing from a troll I can think of.”

“Last time I checked the definition, it said something about a cave-dwelling pig with a bad attitude.”

I shake my head. “You two need to work on a truce.”

“Maybe for you, not him.”

“Shall we find a French café and celebrate your upcoming holiday?”

She tucks her knees under her chin. “Great idea.”

I open my dresser drawer and grab my mint-green OP boardshorts and matching halter top. I took a shower last night, so all I need to do is get dressed and brush my teeth and hair. As I step into my shorts I get dizzy, nearly falling over. Macey flies off the bed, catching my arm.

“What’s going on, Gonzalez?” She looks worried. “Craig mentioned you were on a hunger strike.”

“What?”

“Joking,” she assures me. “He asked me to keep an eye on you, that’s all.” She lets go of my arm. “Sit.”

I finish dressing, then scramble to the end of the bed.

“Hungry?” she asks.

“Sex starved.”

“I’m serious, Marisela. Craig said you’ve been on a yo-yo diet lately.”

“My appetite comes and goes—nothing new.”

“You’re too skinny.”

I gaze down at my tummy, then my legs. “No.”

“You’ve lost weight. I know you’re an emotional wreck, so that doesn’t help. But add some throwing up in the mix, it changes things. Last period?”

“Um…” I have to think about it. “September.”

Macey looks at me as if I have two heads. “It’s freakin’ November, girl.”

“What?” I jump up.

“Yeah. Stay here—I’ll be right back.” She rushes out the door.

I start pacing, trying to remember the exact date I started my last menstrual cycle.
Wait!
I had some spotting in October.

Macey returns with a pink box. “Time to pee on a stick.”

I go rigid. “No.”

She rips the top open, then gives me that big-sister look she taught Robyn. “Get your ass over here, take the stick, and get in that fucking bathroom and do it up.”

My shoulders droop. “You don’t think…”

“With the way you and horndog go at it?”

She’s absolutely right. No condoms…and apparently the pill didn’t work either. Did I miss a day? I’m an idiot. I drag myself into the bathroom, sit on the seat, and position the stick. When I’m done, I grab a wad of toilet paper, spread it out on the vanity, place the test on it, then wash my hands.

“Done?” Macey calls from my room.

“Come in.”

She does. We both stare at the test as if it’s going to make the results pop up faster. What am I going to do if I’m pregnant? After everything I’ve been through with Estevan, losing my baby, nearly losing Craig—I can’t deal with another life-altering blow. It feels like I’m suffocating.

I’m standing in the parking lot outside Cipriano Salazar Beltran’s luxury business office in northwest Austin.

“Ready?” Lucas asks, looking more stoic than I’ve ever seen him.

“Yeah.”

We take the elevator to the twentieth floor. The reception area is large and plush, decorated with expensive fireside lodge furniture—the kind I’d expect to see in Aspen. The front of the building is all windows, and sunlight fills every corner. The bottle-redhead receptionist taps her fake nails on her desk while she’s chatting incessantly on the phone. Sounds more personal than professional to me. I approach the granite counter and flash my badge.

Her eyes go wide and she nods. “Listen, Vicki,” she says, her tone serious. “I need to get off the phone now.” She hangs up.

“Officers Hanson and Lafontaine to see Councilman Beltran.”

“Do you have an appointment, sir?” She checks her ledger. “You’re not penned in.”

“A personal matter,” I say, tight-lipped.

“Mr. Beltran is out of the office today,” she lies. “Perhaps I can take your business card and—”

“His Mercedes is outside,” Lucas chimes in. “Let him know we’re here.”

She looks between the two of us, sighs, then picks up the headset. Two minutes later, we’re escorted to Beltran’s office.

He’s waiting for us at the door. “Gentlemen.” He waves us in. “Hold my calls, Paige.”

As we enter the room, he gestures at two leather chairs near his desk. “Please. Have a seat.”

We do.

“What’s this about?” He opens a drawer and takes out three King of Denmark cigars. I recognize the gold foil, and the bastard’s last name is printed on the label. “Care to join me?” he offers.

“No,” I say. “Let’s keep this meeting as brief as possible, Mr. Beltran. We’re here to discuss your son.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “I have six sons, Officers…”

“Hanson and Lafontaine,” I finish. “Your youngest,” I clarify. “He’s been in Corpus Christi for the past couple of weeks.”

“I’m quite aware.” Beltran takes out his gold-plated Dunhill lighter and fires up his cigar. “I keep close tabs on my children,
Officer Hanson.
”

This asshole is flashing his prestige around like it’s going out of style. “He’s an abhorrent little prick whose going to get gelded if doesn’t stay the hell away from my girlfriend.”

Beltran taps his cigar on the edge of his ashtray, then sets it down. Leaning back in his chair, he presses his fingertips together, forming that diamond shape all arrogant CEOs make. “My son has a way with women.”

I nearly come out of my chair. “With fists.”

Lucas thrusts his arm in front of me. “This a courtesy stop, Mr. Beltran. If I had my way, Estevan would be in jail already.”

“What’s the name of the young lady?”

“Marisela Gonzalez,” I say.

He nods. “I’m familiar with her.” He lets out an exasperated breath. “It seems my son is determined to marry her. How do I know she’s not after my family’s money?”

I dig my cellphone out of my pocket and scroll to the pictures the tow truck driver in Kingsville sent me after he picked up Marisela’s bike. “Take a hard look at your son’s latest handiwork.”

Beltran takes my phone.

“Keep scrolling.”

He does, then offers it back. “Any witnesses?”

“Not this time,” Lucas says. “But his M.O. is clear.”

“These accusations are unsubstantiated.”

I slam my briefcase down on his desk and flip it open. I shuffle through folders, producing a file. “Let’s start with this.” I offer him color prints of the pictures Lucas took of Estevan in San Antonio with the word
rapist
etched across his chest. “Your son kidnapped Marisela, threatened her with a knife, and nearly dragged her to his hotel room to rape her,
again.
”

Beltran stares at the photos, his face turning bright red.

“I’m in possession of several affidavits from witnesses on the River Walk that will stand up in court,” I add.

He drops the pictures on his desk, gazing up at me. “If we handle this situation with a little finesse,” he starts, “I’m sure we can reach an equitable arrangement. One that benefits my son and the young lady in question.”

“In question?” I jump up. “The only thing I should question right now is your fucking integrity.”

“Personal insults won’t resolve this problem, Mr. Hanson.”

“
Officer
Hanson,” I correct bitterly.

“I empathize with Miss Gonzalez, believe me.” He fingers his mustache. “Unfortunately, my son doesn’t know how to control his passion yet.”