Tears of Tess (5 page)

His
hand dropped from my breast, skirting my stomach, dragging me into a
suffocating embrace. I let him squeeze the life out of me—I needed it. I needed
him to convince me he wasn’t leaving, that I didn’t just ruin our relationship.

“All
I need is you. Honestly, none of that matters. I’m content, so happy, when I’m
with you,” I whispered.

My
chest ached so badly. Could he hear the words we’d used? I was content and he
used me as support. No mention of passion or unbridled lust. 

It
doesn’t matter. Stop being so foolish. That’s for movies, this is real life.

Brax
pulled away, eyes turbulent with embarrassment and need. I reached up, pressing
my lips against his. He kissed me back like I always wanted him to—with
ferocity, violence bordering on pain.

I
moaned, wrapping hands in his hair, tugging closer. That’s what I
needed—passion laced with pain.

He
broke the kiss, breathing hard. “So, all of this? Can we pretend it never
happened?”

Relief
ballooned in my chest. Gone was the disappointment I would never be possessed
or owned by Brax in bed. I hadn’t ruined us. I couldn’t be more thankful.
“Already forgotten.”

He
exhaled in a huge gust, smiling crookedly. Kissing the tip of my nose, he said,
“Thank you for loving me enough to take what I can give.”

My
entire body vibrated with remorse. I couldn’t reply.

Brax
reached behind and undid my bra. He drew it off my breasts slowly, dipping his
head to suck my nipple. Heat exploded in my core.

Brax
still loved me. That’s all that mattered. Nothing else. Not kinky sex, or
spicing up the bedroom. I was a very lucky girl.
I am so lucky. Lucky.

I
bit Brax’s collarbone and he groaned. He shifted so his rapidly hardening
erection pressed into my belly.

Trembling,
I eased his jeans down his hips. He arched upright, helping me get them off.
Once he sprung free, he ripped off the fifty dollar knickers I’d worn for all
of ten seconds, and threw them to the floor.

Brax
settled between my thighs, gaze locking with mine. I bit my lip as he pressed
inside. I wasn’t as wet as I should’ve been and the invasion was pleasure as
well as pain.

His
eyes snapped closed as he settled deep inside. His erection, stretching and
filling, sent waves of safety rather than mind-shattering passion.

We
rocked together, and he peppered me in delicate kisses, sweet affection. I grew
slick around him, warming, building. 

My
nipples ached for attention, and I wished he’d bite me just a little, maybe
then I might be able to climax.

“Tess,—”
he breathed in my ear, picking up speed. His hips pressed harder and I fought
the urge to touch myself, to help reach an orgasm.

With
another thrust, Brax moaned, his back shuddering as his butt clenched hard. He
came inside, wave after wave of ecstasy for him and simple acceptance for me. I
stroked his chest, so happy he was able to find release after everything I put
him through.

He
collapsed on top, sandwiching me between his bulk and the mattress.

I
stared at the ceiling, battling so many thoughts, not all of them making sense.
Brax huffed, snuggling his face into my breasts.

Within
moments, he was fast asleep, leaving me lonely and confused.

*Robin*

“
S
ign
here, please.”

The
concierge handed us the compulsory waivers. I gulped, reading the fine print.
If we injured, maimed, or killed ourselves while using the hotel provided
scooters, the hotel would not be held accountable. If it was such a good idea
to rent these things, why the huge disclaimer? 

I
glanced at Brax. “You sure you want to explore Cancun on a two wheeled death
machine?”

Brax
bit the top of the pen, frowning at the hire contract. He flashed me a grin. No
residue of fear or sadness from yesterday lingered in his face. Thank God.

“You
promised this morning. You agreed today was all about what I wanted to do, and
tomorrow is all about you.”

I
smiled. “Fine. But, tomorrow, you are so going to put up with getting a massage
with me. No moaning.”

He
drew a cross over his heart and signed the paperwork with a flourish. He laughed,
excitement glowing in his blue gaze. “Do you want your own bike, or dinky on
the back of mine?”

No
way in hell did I trust myself to weave in crazy, un-choreographed traffic in a
foreign country. “I’ll go on the back of yours. You do know what you’re doing, right?”

Images
came to mind of us being impaled on the bike rack on the front of a bus, or run
over by a truck carrying piñatas. I shuddered.

Brax
scoffed. “I’ve driven a Harley. How hard can a moped be?”

Pretty
damn hard, especially with maniacs driving circles around us.

I
scowled playfully. “You drove the Harley for all of ten minutes.”

Bill,
a building colleague, encouraged Brax to join the local motorcycle group. Brax
tried, and promptly said no, which I was super happy about, as driving without
doors and a roof freaked me out.

Brax
rolled his eyes, tapping the signature bit of my contract. Sticking my tongue
out, I signed.

The
concierge beamed and walked around the desk. We were in the lobby, and more
guests had arrived, a wave of shuffling bags and smiles. The soft murmur of excitement
weaved around us, layered with holiday vibes. 

“Follow
me, please.” The concierge, in his crisp white shirt and bright orange
waistcoat, led the way.

Maybe
it wasn’t such a bad idea. Hell, we might even get off the beaten tourist track
and find something local and new.

I
looped my arm through Brax’s, doubly glad I’d put on leggings and my large
cream t-shirt today. The outfit offered the best protection of all the clothes
I packed. I hoped the frail fabrics would safeguard if we happened to topple. 

We
followed the concierge out of the hotel and into the basement car park. He
unlocked a canary yellow scooter and retrieved two helmets. “Please make sure
you keep these with you at all times. It’s a one hundred dollar fine if you
lose them.”

Brax
nodded, fastening mine with dexterous fingers. His touch sent my heart
thrumming. Giving me a soft smile, he fastened his own helmet and straddled the
bike.

I
stood there, feeling like a ridiculous, overripe pineapple. The helmet weighed
a ton.

The
concierge handed me an A4 map, and drew a red oval, which I assumed was the
hotel.

“This
is where you are.” His minty breath wafted over me as he leaned closer,
stabbing the map. “If you get lost, ask a policeman for directions. They are
all over the city. And don’t separate. It’s best to stay together.”

My
pulse thudded a little. Policemen lurked thick in this city. Not only lurked,
but loitered on street corners with weapons and guns. Were the Mexican citizens
so ruthless and dangerous?

Don’t
answer that.
Especially when we were about to
explore on a contraption offering no safety whatsoever.

Brax
patted the seat behind him; I smiled weakly. Throwing my leg over, I rested my
feet on the little stirrups and wrapped my arms around his torso like a python.

Chuckling,
he turned on the ignition and tested the throttle. “You won’t fall off with the
death grip you have, hun.”

That
was the plan. I kissed his neck, loving his shiver. “I trust you.” I tried to
convince myself, as much as Brax.

The
concierge smiled and left us to it. Brax eased off the clutch and we shot
forward. My stomach failed to catch up, but after kangaroo hopping a few times,
Brax wrangled the bike into submission. 

“Ready?”
he said over a shoulder.

Lying,
I spoke into his ear, “Yep.”

We
travelled out of the gloomy parking garage and into the blazing mid-morning
sunshine. Even with dirty streets, Cancun reminded me of a vibrant party. 

Brax
put his feet down, stabilizing the bike as we stopped on the edge of the busy
road. His heart thumped under my arms, concentration making his shoulders
tight.

We
watched as speedsters, crazy pedestrians, and vehicles painted in more colours
than the rainbow shot past. For the hundredth time, I wondered just how crash
hot this idea was.

“Which
way, Tessie? Left or right?”

I
swivelled my head, wrinkling my nose. No break came in the traffic from either
direction. North, south, east, west—it didn’t matter when everything looked as
death-filled and as foreign as the other.

Impulsively,
I said, “Right.”
Please, let us return to the hotel in one piece!

Brax
nodded, scratching his chin where the strap of the helmet strangled him. He
rolled forward, his flip-flopped feet slapping on hot pavement. The bike
wobbled while we waited a good ten minutes for courage to join the swarming
mass of craziness.

I
wanted to suggest flagging, and head to the pool—

“Hold
on!” Brax sucked in his abs and twisted the accelerator. The bike whined and
took off with a skid.

My
heart lurched into my throat as we shot forward, narrowly dodging a cyclist
with a mountain of merchandise on the back and zipped in front of a smog
spewing bus.

My
mouth dried in panic and arms squeezed Brax so tight, his ribcage bruised my
biceps. Oh, my God! I wanted off.
This isn’t my idea of fun.

Brax
laughed as we straightened and drove with the mass. His happiness wrapped
around us like a protective bubble, and I tried to stop hyperventilating. 

My
heart softened. He was enjoying this, and I wouldn’t ruin it. I trusted him to
keep me safe.

*
* * * *

An
hour later, a waterfall of sweat ran under my t-shirt. The bright sun had landed
me with a headache, and my brain felt cooked in the helmet. More than once, I’d
tried to pull away from Brax’s back, but we were both so hot and sticky, it was
disgusting.

We’d
relaxed enough to enjoy driving through the labyrinths of streets, exploring
side alleys, skirting around markets and peddlers, but now my ass ached, and my
thighs had had enough of the vibrations of the scooter.

I
needed a drink and somewhere cool—very, very cool. 

Almost
as if he heard my thoughts, Brax slowed to a stop outside a tiny, decrepit
restaurant on the outskirts of the markets we’d driven around.

It
looked anything but sanitary, with a sad donkey piñata hanging limp in the sun.
The ripped plastic tablecloths didn’t encourage one to linger, and the sign was
so blackened with filth, I couldn’t read the name.

“Ugh—”
I exploded into a cough as a cloud of exhaust billowed from a rusty car.
Very
hygienic
.

Brax
stroked my hands, still clutched around his middle. “You okay?”

I
nodded, sucking in a harsh breath. “Yep. I was going to say, surely we can find
something better than this dive?”

Brax
clambered off the bike, helping me off. My legs were the consistency of rubber.
I’d ridden a horse in my childhood and even spread-eagled on a fat animal was
better than the scooter. Going over bumps and potholes wasn’t good for my lady
parts.

“I’m
dying of thirst.” Pursing his lips, he took in the dank appearance. “We’ll just
grab a quick drink and leave.” Brax unclipped his helmet and tied it to the
handlebars. I did the same, almost puddling to the ground in relief to remove
the hotbox from my lank hair.

Brax
chuckled. “Bad hair day, huh?”

I
reached up, running a hand through his sweaty locks. He leaned into my touch,
love sparking in his eyes.

I
giggled. “A helmet on a hot day doesn’t exactly equate to sexy hair.”