Dusk Until Dawn Read online

  And he found that he didn’t like it.

  Instead of dwelling, like he wanted to, like he would have after one of his and Karrie’s non-fights, he got up to shower the smell of their fucking off of his skin.

  He checked the lone nightstand for a note, and, when he didn’t find one, walked into the kitchen stark naked to see if she’d left one on the island. He found a lone sticky note on the floor, piled right on top of his dress shirt, the one she’d used to cushion her knees when she’d taken him all the way down her throat.

  He didn’t want to bend down for it. Partially because he was afraid of what the note had said. The other problem was the rapidly growing hard on the image of her on her knees had inspired.

  Shit.

  He grabbed the note from the floor, wincing. It said, Thank you for the night I’ve been imagining for years. You didn’t disappoint. Smell ya later.—M

  He crumpled the slip of paper in one hand and tossed it on the counter. Something kept him from throwing it away. He marched to the bathroom and put the water on full blast. He didn’t even know why he was mad. She’d promised him one night and it had totally rocked. It was kind of sensory and emotional overload that he would feel her phantom touch on his skin for days—weeks even.

  He soaped his body and rinsed off with violent efficiency. A cold blast at the end killed his hard on so that he didn’t have to jack off in the shower thinking about a girl who didn’t want him.

  He rolled into the office about five minutes late because he stopped to get himself and Alana a cafecito. Their father was out of the office this week as part of his plan to pass off the business to Javi and Alana—mostly Alana now, but he was trying to change that.

  Javi wasn’t above admitting that he was buttering his sister up. He’d screwed up by letting her shoulder all of the burdens of their family while blowing shit-tons of money at clubs. And she hadn’t even gotten mad the first few months. No, it took him punching the love of her life in the face and accusing him—wrongly—of cheating on her for her to tell on him.

  He still felt like a failure every time he looked at her. He tried to protect her from harm, the one thing that his father had always counted on him to do. And he’d failed. He’d interfered where he wasn’t wanted or needed and he hadn’t done what his sister had really needed.

  Still, when he walked in with coffee, she smiled at him gratefully. “You look almost happy. What happened? Did Karrie get engaged? Did she die—tragically?”

  Javi laughed. “No. I feel like it’s a new day.”

  “What brought this on?”

  “Nothing.” That was a whopper of a lie, but he didn’t want to tell his sister that Maya’s pussy had cured him of his malaise. Not unless or until he could make Maya a more permanent part of his life. He shrugged. “Time, I guess.”

  Alana nodded and handed him a stack of folders. “Can you look these over and make sure I did it right?”

  He flipped open the first folder, presentations for a potential new client that was coming in next week. He was surprised by his sister asking for his help. She was the resident i-dotter and t-crosser. “Sure.”

  He flipped through the pages of the proposal. It was perfect. She’d only asked for his help because she wanted to make him feel important and part of things. She really didn’t need his help.

  “Looks really good. You’ll do great in the presentation.”

  She nodded again. “You mean you’ll do great, right?”

  “You want me to take point? What brought this on?” On the one hand, this might be the opportunity to prove to his sister that he could pull through for the family. But he’d done enough taking her spotlight. She’d done all the work, she should get the credit.

  “Listen, they’re a conservative company.” She shook her head. “I just don’t see them taking investment advice from a girl.”

  Javi tapped the folders on the edge of her desk. Their offices were the same size, but his was neat as a pin and hers was covered on every surface. A testament to how hard she’d been working for the last few years. “They’d be stupid not to take advice from you. You’re the smartest person I know.”

  Alana took a sip of coffee. “You mean that?”

  Javi said, “Yes.” No bullshit, it was the truth. In the past couple of months, he’d been looking through some of the paperwork on deals he’d missed while facedown in a pile of models. She’d kept them afloat and improved their portfolio. All without credit from him or their dad and all behind the scenes.

  “Still, I want you to do the presentation. Daddy can’t punish you forever, and we’re going to be partners in this business after he retires. We have to figure out how to make that work regardless.”

  “Fine.”

  Javi picked up the pile of documents and walked into his office. He hadn’t done the work, but he would know the ins and outs if he was going to be the face of his company. At the very least, it would keep his mind off of last night.

  * * * *

  Maya hadn’t even showered before getting to work in the makeshift studio in her brother’s garage. The smell of Javi on her skin seemed important to the experience. She worked through lunch and her stomach was protesting by the time her brother crossed the lawn to find her.

  Maya had two reasons for creeping out of Javi’s bed before he woke up. For one, she didn’t want to do that mushy morning shit with him. Her heart couldn’t take it. Whether he’d tried to break her down to get her to commit to more time with him or acted like he wanted her gone, she wouldn’t have been able to weather it without cracking and showing him that she was still vulnerable to him.

  The second reason was that she’d needed to paint. Everything that Javi had woken up inside her—visceral lust and longing for connection—had to come out somewhere. Canvas was a safe place for that.

  He whistled and leaned on the doorjamb. “You did all this today? The dick was that good? I don’t think I’ve ever had dick that good.”

  Maya snort-laughed. “Unfortunately, I don’t think it was so much the dick but the guy attached to it.”

  Felix stuck up his index fingers with about three inches between them. “That small, huh? From what I remember, his personality wasn’t enough to make up for it.”

  “The dick was fine, better than fine, phenomenal.” Maya painted a broad orange stripe over some of the acrylic paint that had dried. Her work was abstract. At its best, it was emotional and evocative. At its worst, it was oversentimental and maudlin.

  Today, her work felt vivid and deep. The giant canvas in front of her had been gestating in her mind for weeks. She’d needed last night in order to get out of her head enough to make it real. Luckily, she’d had a couple of commissions to work on while this piece made its way to the surface.

  Maya shrugged. “Today seemed to be as good as any to get this party started. Isn’t that what I’m here for? To make all my dreams come true?”

  Her brother scoffed. “Seems to me that you’ve mostly been waitressing and binge-watching weird shit on my Netflix since you got down here. And now Javi Hernandez bangs your brains out one night and you go all Beautiful Mind on a painting. I don’t think it’s a coincidence. I think he dicked you back to life.”

  Maya shrugged. “Maybe. I hope it lasts long enough for me to put together enough pieces for a show.”

  “Speaking of, I have a friend on the board of Art Basel who wants to have a drink with you. He owns a gallery and liked what I showed him on my phone.”

  Maya was shocked and a little bit pissed. Nothing she’d made since she moved to Miami had been anything to write home about. “Did you have to blow him?”

  “Not that I would have minded—he’s hot—but no.” He walked up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. He motioned towards the canvas. “When are you going to get it? You’re crazy talented, and you deserve to win.”

  Felix knew as well as she did why she expected to eat a shit sandwich instead of succ
eed. Their father had told them, almost since they were toddlers, that they were nothing and would never be anything. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know what the hell he was talking about because he’d ended up in prison. The fact that she and Felix were the products of a years-long affair, or that he’d treated his legitimate children a whole lot better didn’t make his words hurt any less.

  Every time someone asked about what her parents did, it stuck the knife in a little bit deeper. How did you answer when the truth was that your mom was a mouse and your dad was a drunk sociopath?

  And her experiences trying to get a foothold in New York hadn’t taught anything different. She’d always felt like she was being passed over. And, strangely, it dug the knife of Javi’s rejection in a little deeper every time it had happened. She’d actually wondered, for a time, if Javi would have loved her had she been more successful. Stupid, really.

  She didn’t have to say any of this to her brother. Instead she said, “This one is pretty good. When it’s done, I’ll show it to your guy.”

  Chapter 8

  Javi wasn’t used to sitting at the bar at LIV. He hadn’t spent much time there in the past year—not until the night he saw Maya again—but he’d been all about the bottle service before that. He hadn’t bellied up to a bar since grad school, when he’d spent hours hanging with Maya. Maybe because sitting at a bar reminded him of her, and he’d been trying to avoid that.

  Except back then, he didn’t feel weird and stalkerish waiting for her to start her shift. Getting the information from the club owner had been more expensive than a night in the VIP section, but he couldn’t let things go at one night.

  He needed more. And it wasn’t just the sex. He needed more Maya. In his life and in his face. Being with her had brought everything into sharp focus in the same way that being with his ex had thrown everything into chaos.

  He’d married Karrie because he’d thought being with her would bring everything to order. They’d come from similar backgrounds, two-parent families with no baggage. He hadn’t realized that sometimes baggage doesn’t follow from dysfunction. Maybe he was a bad husband and Karrie was a bad wife because neither of them had ever had to struggle with anything in their damned life.

  Now he could see Maya with clear eyes. She’d suffered in ways he couldn’t imagine, but it hadn’t broken her. All of her family baggage hadn’t marred her. She knew herself and she took no bullshit. She was completely honest, and he needed her truth.

  Not for just one night. Even if she wanted to be his friend.

  So, he was nervous, sitting there with a drink in his hand and his balls hanging out. He wasn’t used to feeling vulnerable, and he’d made a mess of it following his divorce. He regretted that his family hadn’t been enough of a reason to take a long hard look at himself, but something about having Maya back in his life made him realize that he was a shit and made him want to be better.

  As if she’d heard his thoughts about her, she walked in the door and her face screwed up in disgust.

  God, she looked amazing in all black—a T-shirt that barely concealed her nipples and a short skirt. Knowing her, it was short enough to collect maximum tips without actually showing anything.

  The thought of other guys looking at Maya, thinking they could have her pissed him off. Come to think of it, it always had. Christ, he’d almost pulled off Cole’s nipple when he joked about asking her out. Proof he really had been dense back in the day. She wouldn’t appreciate his jealousy though, so he didn’t admit that out loud.

  “What can I get you?” Her question shocked him.

  “You’re not going to ask what the hell I’m doing here?”

  “No. You obviously want more sex. I’m going to say no, and you’re going to brood for a while until you know that I’m serious. Then, you’ll leave and start fucking some dumb girl who will put up with your bullshit until she won’t. When she dumps you, if I’m still here, you’ll try to get it in again. Depending on whether I’m seeing someone and how bad I’m feeling about my life, I’ll let you.”

  Damn. That’s exactly how he’d behave if Maya wasn’t completely under his skin.

  “I’m not going to try to fuck some dumb girl.”

  “That narrows your options considerably because only a girl with a brain in her genital area is going to put up with you for any length of time. Any woman who calls you on your bullshit is going to get shown the door. Or she’s never going to see the door. She’ll see the club bathroom or a hotel room.”

  “You’re the only one who thinks I’m full of shit.”

  She snort laughed and raised one eyebrow, deeply incredulous. She didn’t even have to say anything in order to call him on shit. And she was right. His father knew he was full of shit. Hell, his sister had informed his father that he was full of shit. Now his mother and his other sister also knew he was full of shit.

  But Maya knew first, and here he was, insulting her intelligence. “Have I been full of shit with you since seeing you again? You’re the one who threw vodka in my face.”

  “I thought you deserved it at the time.”

  “And now you don’t?”

  She shrugged and poured him another bourbon. She knew what kind he drank without him telling her. It was stupid how much hope that gave him. She wanted him to stay.

  He took a bracing sip. “When do you get off?”

  “Last night? Like a whole bunch of times.”

  It was his turn to snort. “Any chance the work I put in gets me a walk after you’re done with work?”

  “I was planning on working until 2 AM, but if you want to wait around—”

  “I do. I will.”

  She tipped her chin. “When was the last time you came through on an ‘I do?’”

  She was just being mean now. He’d tried to be a good husband, hadn’t he? Once he bought the ring, he was all in. But hearing the questions coming from Maya’s mouth made him wonder.

  Had he been fully committed to Karrie, or fully committed to the idea of the perfect wife and life his parents expected him to have?

  He took a big swallow of bourbon, and put out his glass for a refill. Maya topped him up and said, “Slow down on that one, or I’ll have to cut you off and kick you out.”

  * * * *

  Having Javi watch her with those intense grass-green eyes made her bobble glasses and have to think really hard about the mixed drinks menu. She was working behind the bar that night. She wasn’t allowed to do bottle service after the club had to write off the bottle she threw on Javi. He was one of their best customers.

  She had to keep that thought in her head, even though her brain wanted to drift back to how his hands—currently spinning his half-full rocks glass on the bar—felt against her skin. She shouldn’t be thinking about how this man felt inside her—how she could still feel him when she moved a certain way. And she definitely shouldn’t love the way he looked at her. He wasn’t for her. He was out of her system. Officially.

  And yet, considering the way he looked at her now, it didn’t feel like he was out of her system. She could feel his attention as she worked, and it felt like he knew that she was only putting on a smile for the customers. Like he knew she was putting up a front. His intense energy, focused almost entirely on her, made her skin heat.

  Maybe the way he paid attention now could erase the past? Maybe not, but a walk on the beach wouldn’t kill her.

  When another bartender finally came to relieve her, she made a snap decision, her favorite kind. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of her. She grabbed her messenger bag from underneath the bar, and walked over to him.

  “You ready?”

  A smile slowly spread across his face. She felt it everywhere. He was walking sex, every inch of him was delicious. He was bespoke perfection, even in jeans and a black T-shirt. Funny how he was as good clothed as he was without.

  He stood up and his hand immediately found her lower back. The crowd parted, not for h
er, for him. She didn’t think she was imagining a few sour looks from women—and a few men—when they saw them together. She definitely wasn’t imagining the dark satisfaction she felt that he was finally there with her. With her. Not any of these dumb assholes looking at her with pure hatred.

  When they crossed to the boardwalk, she took off her shoes and handed them to him, to see if he’d carry them for her. He didn’t blink. And he didn’t speak, but the breeze felt like it had something for him to say. The sand felt like heaven on the soles of her feet. Javi held her arm to make sure she didn’t fall as she stepped in the dark. He needn’t have worried because the full moon lit the crevices of sand.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. Finally.

  “That’s it?” She didn’t know what she wanted yet, but she wanted more.

  “I mean, they’re two words. But they’re accurate.”

  “Do you think they’re enough?”

  “Enough for what?”

  She didn’t know. Despite her best intentions for the other night, she wanted more with Javi. The part of her that made art wanted more than one night. She didn’t know why it was him that woke things up inside her that she didn’t remember she could feel. She hated that she wanted—needed—more.

  “Enough for you to forgive me.” He stopped her and they stood facing each other. He cupped her elbows in his hands. The heat made her shiver. “What happened the other night was special. You know that. Tell me you know that.”

  It felt wrong to lie to him, so she didn’t. “It was. But that doesn’t mean that we should do it again. I’m not sure I can trust you completely.”

  She’d trusted him enough to really let go with him; she’d trusted him enough to let him have her body and piece of something more. Knowing she’d had him at her mercy made her heady, and the thought of losing that power made her ache. Starting something with Javi was risky, and an “I’m sorry” didn’t change that.