Dusk Until Dawn Page 3
He wore an open-collared shirt—the kind of fabric so fine that she could see the play of his muscles as he moved. She’d seen him in T-shirts and designer jeans almost every day. She liked him like this so much better. His grin might look pleasant and social to most people, but it was telling her that she was about to pay up for behaving like a naughty child the night before.
The music or the chatter. The only thing she heard was his shoes, tapping on the ground his feet ate up making his way to her.
He didn’t look her up and down; he flicked his fingers at her and said, “Ven aca.” Come here.
Not willing to make a scene and complicate her brother’s business relationship with the gallery, she followed him into a dim corridor. Foolish, yes. Going somewhere alone with him could only lead to bad decisions. But foolish couldn’t be helped when it came to this man.
He went into an office, flicked on the light, and motioned her inside.
“Do you own the place or something?” She got her back up in preparation for being chastised. She didn’t have the patience for that, not from him. So, she’d been nasty the night before. She’d apologize and leave.
He didn’t say anything, but he took the tray, which conveniently held two champagne glasses, and put it on the desk. This gave her the freedom to put her hands on her hips and prevented her from ruining another one of his suits.
He had crazy green eyes that always got her wet and wondering what he was thinking. She knew it was dirty. It had to be dirty.
He licked his bottom lip, which made her breath heavy. She wished she was close enough to the chair to grab on for balance. Pathetic.
“I know the gallery owner. She’s a good friend.” The way he said it made her want to throw the stapler at him. She was so tempted the thing practically glowed. And it certainly ruined the party in her pants that was just getting started.
“Fuck you, Javi. What do you want? An apology?” When he stayed silent, she continued. “Fine. I’m sorry I ruined your suit.”
“That’s not why I'm mad.” He stepped closer, so she could feel his body heat reaching out and caressing her skin. “I’m mad because you walked away.”
She schooled her features. She didn’t want to lose it again. “You’re the one who walked away. You got married.”
He stopped abruptly and ran a hand through his hair. Frustrated. Good. He deserved it. “What choice did I have?”
“You made the wrong one.” She tipped her head at his empty ring finger.
“You really think it could have worked out between us?”
She shrugged because she honestly didn’t know. They were different. But the chemistry between them couldn’t be denied. Pushed down and banked, yes. But never denied.
“We’d probably be better off if we had tried,” she said. She might not have spent the last four years hooking up with guys who meant nothing and made her feel less than nothing. “But I’m not the one with a coterie of models begging me to fuck them.”
“That wasn’t what it looked like.” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb. “I was about to leave. I’m not going to lie and say that I’ve been a saint since my divorce, but I wasn’t going to sleep with either of those women last night. Especially once I saw you.”
“Your divorce?” Maya held her breath waiting for his answer.
“Fuck, Maya. You thought I was pulling that shit, and I was still married?”
* * * *
He wasn’t sure if he’d moved or she had, but they’d come closer together over the course of the conversation. Their breath mingled, and he could smell whatever shampoo she used. He wanted to dig his fingers in her thick, black hair and smell the tropical flowers there.
But he held back. As close as she was, he wasn’t sure he was welcome to take what he wanted from her. He’d spent every free moment of the day thinking about her, weighing the pros and cons of seeking her out. For what? Would she want the same things she’d wanted with him last time? And if she did, could he give them to her? Could he give anything to her—now?
He shouldn’t want her, but he couldn’t help himself when it came to her.
“What do you want, Javi?”
Other than wanting to wipe the judgment off her face and replace it with lust, he really didn’t know what he wanted. But he knew that he needed to touch her right now, and he wasn’t a man used to denying his needs. He closed the distance between them, bent down, and put his mouth against hers.
He’d waited years for this. Touching her like this was something he never thought would happen, like jumping off a cliff and flying. He tried to memorize this moment because only God knew if it would ever happen again. He needed to savor every bit of not-friends touching she would allow. Still, he waited a beat, then two, to see if she would push him away. He expected her to; he expected a sharp smack to the face and maybe a knee in the balls.
Just the smell of her had his dick heavy and full. Her plush mouth was heaven against his.
When she didn’t move, he pressed closer so their bodies meshed. He brought his hands to the back of her head, not crushing her to him like he wanted to. Kissing her tentatively, even when he could feel her ready to bolt, was like water after a drought.
Her hair felt like silk under his fingers, and he had to school his need to press her against the wall—hard—and grind his hips into the center of her thighs.
When he stroked his tongue against her lips and tugged at the hair at the back of her neck, she opened to him, melted against him, gave him permission. Using one hand to keep her mouth where he needed it, he ran the other down the side of her neck and over her side.
A quiver rolled through her under his touch. She wasn’t as unaffected by him as she pretended to be. He would never be done kissing her, but he pulled his lips away from hers so they could breathe.
Their kiss didn’t last long because he had to taste the skin above the skittering pulse point on her neck. He couldn’t name what she tasted like, but it was right. She cooed and sighed, and he smiled against her throat. He’d never heard her like that—so different from the usual curses and sarcasm. He liked both, but he wanted more of this. Just for him.
He moved so that her back was against the wall. He’d let her go if she wanted this to stop, but he wanted her hemmed in, attached to him. It amazed him how much he could want her, how much he could need more of her.
But she didn’t want to get away. She arched and moaned when he licked at her collarbone. He grabbed a handful of the ass he’d been dreaming about since the first time she’d bent down to grab him a beer. He’d sat on the same stool and ordered the same beer every time to get another look from that angle.
“Fuck, Maya. You taste so good. I can feel your panties and I want them gone so I can feel if you’re wet for me. Taste you there.”
“Hmmm.” She sounded drunk, and he wasn’t sure if she was agreeing with him or trying to tell him to stop talking.
But then, she threaded her hands through his hair and pulled him down. “Why don’t you taste it and see?”
Some of the buttons of her shirt had come undone, revealing her cleavage. He couldn’t help himself. He worried the lace of her bra with his teeth, needing to do the same thing to her nipples. He pushed up her skirt and grabbed the sides of her panties. He was about to pull them down when he heard someone moving through the hallway.
His friend who owned the gallery wouldn’t like to find him with a girl in her office—not after they dated for a hot minute, so he stopped in his tracks.
He kept a hold of her and whispered in her ear. “Have dinner with me.”
Chapter 3
He wanted to have dinner with her? This mistake was not going to lead to dinner. No, the only place it would lead was flat on her back and humiliated as he walked out the door, leaving her in a puddle of post-orgasmic goo.
“No,” she said, her voice harsh. She wiggled to get away, but he pressed her closer to t
he wall. Neither of them spoke for a moment, until she heard the footsteps in the corridor. “Are you going to let me go, or do I have to scream?”
He stepped back then. “What do you mean ‘no’?”
She kept her voice quiet, but gave him an answer. “I mean: no, I don’t want to have dinner with you. I think we’re done here.”
He reached out and grabbed a lock of her hair with two fingers. She barely fought off the urge to sneer. She hadn’t been good enough to date before he got married. Why would she be good enough now?
She wasn’t about to humiliate herself by falling back in love with him. She might be halfway there just being in the same room as him, but she could claw her way back from the brink. But she had to get away from him and his wicked mouth.
She’d always known that they’d be combustible if they ever got naked and horizontal. She was right. Just his kiss left her brain addled and her words slower than they would be otherwise. That’s why Javi was dangerous. It would be so easy to let him weave a spell over her and give in.
But she couldn’t trust him not to leave her. His marriage hadn’t lasted, and he’d wanted to commit to Karrie. Right now, he was trying to turn on the charm to win her over. If she let him in, he’d lose interest. Him rejecting her again would tear at her insides, and she wasn’t sure she could fix herself again.
Javi shook his head. “Nothing about what just happened says done.” He dipped his head and her gaze chased his to the bulge in his pants.
She pushed his hand and arm away then. The ego on this man knew no bounds. “Please. Don’t tell me you can’t get your dick wet in any number of women out there within five minutes of me walking out of this room.”
She turned to leave, but he pulled her back to him with a hand on her lower belly. His voice resonated through her whole body, the graveled sound hitting her clit in time with his words. “I could.” He leaned in and took a nibble of her ear. Holding it until her body relaxed back against his. Then he set about re-buttoning her shirt—the one she’d almost left open while storming out of the office. “But this isn’t about getting my dick wet, sweet. This is about a whole hell of a lot of unfinished business.”
She almost laughed when he called her “sweet.” No one had ever called her that. She’d been called “spicy” by pendejos who’d wanted to date her to prove that they weren’t racist. But never sweet. With his hands on her, though, she could see it. She melted like caramel as his fingers brushed her skin. Felt fragile, like burnt sugar, when he hands brushed her arms.
She couldn’t have dinner with Javi. Sitting across from him, making small talk, pretending that he hadn’t dealt out the biggest hurt of her whole life, that wouldn’t work for her.
She was all buttoned up, and put back together, but he didn’t let her go. “I have to get back.” She didn’t. Her brother had the event well in hand. She needed to get away from Javi, though.
“Stay for a few minutes. Have a glass of champagne. Let me talk you into dinner.”
She was torn. On the one hand, she wanted to spend time with him. On the other hand, letting herself indulge in being with Javi wouldn’t lead her anywhere good. She should stay away, but she missed him. She wanted to know him again, and she really hoped he would kiss her again. One taste of him wasn’t enough.
Her wanting him won out and she turned to him. He didn’t kiss her or try to press her into the wall again. Instead, he grabbed the two flutes from where they sat on the desk and handed her one.
He raised his glass to make a toast, but she drank the glass down before he had the chance. She needed to cool off, and nothing he said was going to change anything.
He smirked, then followed her lead. He took the glass from her and set them both down again without losing eye contact. She felt pinned to the spot. She snuck another peek, and he was still hard.
“This isn’t about getting my dick wet, Maya.”
“How do I know that?”
“Because, if it was, I wouldn’t consider a ten thousand dollar suit a small price to pay for seeing you smile with satisfaction.”
She laughed. “I’m sorry about the suit.”
He shook his head and a few strands of the hair she’d pulled out of his ponytail hit his face. “No, you’re not. But I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to say yes.”
“Why? Give me one good reason.” She didn’t know whether she was rooting for him to fail or rooting for him to succeed.
He cocked his head to one side and licked his bottom lip. Lech. “Remember what I said when I promised to let you go?”
Of course she did. Nothing about that conversation had faded from her memory. “That this doesn’t mean that we’re not still friends.”
“We are still friends, Maya. A ruined suit and the way I want to fuck you six ways until next week doesn’t change that. I haven’t had anything like our friendship in a long time, and I miss you.”
Fuck. This was why she’d loved him from the jump. And it should be why she hated him now. He’d lost her friendship by not choosing her.
“Tell me why things didn’t work out with Karrie.” Please don’t say that you cheated, Javi.
He winced. “I’ll tell you all about it if you have dinner with me.”
She chewed on her bottom lip. Part of knowing what made her tick meant that he knew that her curiosity would overtake her good sense. “Fine. Tomorrow night. You still have my number?”
He nodded his head once. “Text me where to pick you up.”
She rolled her eyes as she walked out the door. He wanted to roll up like this was a date. As if.
* * * *
By the time he got to the restaurant the next night, Javi was already ready to throttle Maya. She’d refused to let him pick her up, and after back and forth via text, he’d tried to call her. After one ring, she’d sent him to voicemail. Finally, he’d relented and sent her the name of the restaurant.
He handed over his car keys to the valet, and jogged inside. Nervous on a date was not something he usually did, not since the divorce. He’d slid right into the role of unattached playboy as soon as word of their separation hit the local gossip blogs. The whole thing had mushroomed until he’d be out every other night with models.
It wasn’t him, but it had been refreshing to not be him for a while. Being the guy who always tried to do the right thing—the thing that was expected him—had gotten him married to Karrie. And that had been wrong from the start.
He wasn’t nervous because this was Maya—and he wanted her like he wanted to wake up the next morning. He was nervous because she knew that he’d made the wrong choice.
But he didn’t know if Maya had been the right choice either. The trouble they’d had agreeing on the specifics of dinner were proof enough of that. And he had enough to worry about with trying to get back in his father’s good graces. He shouldn’t be starting a new relationship with anyone, especially someone who could eat up pieces of his soul like Maya.
He was still questioning the wisdom of spending more time with Maya when he spotted her sitting at a table in the dim restaurant, twisting a napkin over on the table, and sucking on her bottom lip.
She looked out of place in the upscale restaurant with her arms covered in even more tattoos than she’d had a few years ago. But he didn’t give a shit when she looked up at him and stood. She wore a loose black maxi dress that didn’t do her body justice, but he liked it just the same. She had her hair pulled back into a braid that she’d wrapped around her head. With dark eyeliner and nude lips, she looked like a mirage to a thirsty man. Her half smile said that he was the one who had to tell her tales. Otherwise, off with his fucking head.
He crossed over to her, needing the space between them to evaporate. But, when he reached her, he wasn’t sure whether he should hug her like an old friend or swell up her lips with a bruising kiss. He settled for a kiss on each cheek, which she accepted.
“You’re stunning.” It was an
inadequate description. And he was usually the guy that talked clients into investing with his family’s company, but he didn’t have better words. She’d stunned all his pretty words right out of him.
As he came around to push her seat in, she said, “Thank you.” He caught a whiff of her floral scent and wished that he’d planned dinner somewhere private. Thank fuck he’d put on jeans instead of pants that would reveal how hard she made him with a half-smile and barely of a brush of his lips against her skin.
* * * *
“So, tell me about your divorce.” Maya wasn’t sure what to say, so she decided to pick at something that would make him feel uncomfortable. More uncomfortable than her.
He smirked at her; she was completely transparent. He smoothed out a napkin on his lap and took a sip of water before responding. “She put a weekend of sex with her trainer on my credit card. It wasn’t the first time she’d cheated, and I wanted to forgive her at first, work on things, but she didn’t want to.”
“Why?” Maya would have smiled, maybe gloated a little but for the hint of bitterness in his voice. One thing Maya knew they had in common was their mutual intolerance of cheating. They had different reasons—she didn’t want any part of the madness that had destroyed her parents, and he was a stand-up guy. But she’d always liked to think that their integrity drew them together.
He’d tried to work things out with his ex-wife after she cheated. His willingness to forgive her belied deeper feelings for Karrie than she’d ever credited him with. Did he still have feelings for his ex? Was he pursuing her—kind of—just to get back at his Karrie? Was she a tool?
“I was embarrassed that I couldn’t make her happy. I’d given up something great.” His gaze seared her, and she knew that “something great” was her. “So, I thought I should be able to make things work with Karrie. She was right to leave me, though. I was never all in. I cared about her a lot. It just wasn’t enough.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” She meant it. Even though she’d been hurt by Javi’s rejection, he’d really cared for Karrie. She’d seen that. And he was the kind of guy would do anything for the people he cared about. Not sure what else to say, she grabbed a piece of bread from the basket.