Lawmakers (11 page)

“Is that what you really want,
cariño?”

Her knees dipped, but she locked them. “Yes.”

His steps
whooshed
on the carpet as he moved. The door opened and closed with a click. She let out a small cry, and her legs gave. Strong arms encircled her, and she let her head fall against Brent’s shoulder.

“You chose me,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m so glad, Della. I love you. We’ll get married right away, nothing fancy. We’ll keep it simple.”

She shook her head on his shoulder and then pushed up to face him. “No.”

Confusion settled in his expression. “What? You want a big wedding?”

“No, I’m not going to marry you,” she said. “Up until a minute ago, I decided I would, but I can’t. I don’t love you, Brent. Not like that, not like your wife should love you. I love Santi. There I said it.”

He scowled. “That fucktard left you.”

“Watch your mouth!”

He flared his nostrils but settled down. They sat in silence a few moments, Della’s attention on her hands. She struggled wit her emotions, so it took a while to realize Brent fought with his too. He sniffed, and she looked up at him. To her shock and utter despair, tears rolled down his face, and his eyes had turned red. She’d have to be blind not to see the deep love reflected on her poor friend’s face.

“I love you so much, Della.”

“Oh, Brent.”

He scrubbed at the tears with his middle, ring finger, and thumb. Della reached out to him, but he shook his head. After a few minutes he pulled himself together.

She turned away from him and clutched her hands on her lap. “I’m not marrying him either. Santi has nothing to do with you and me. I just want to be honest with you, Brent.”

“I know.”

“He kissed me when he came today.”

“I forgive you.” His voice was thick, but the tears had dried.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Anyway, what I’m saying is you and I can never be anything but friends. I’m so, so sorry, but that’s it. No maybes, no nothing. In fact… I feel like I need to take a long break from you.”

“Della, don’t do this! I’m sorry. I was out of line today. I admit that.” He reached for her hands, but she moved out of reach.

“I wish I could love you the way you want me to. To tell the truth, it would all be so much easier. I just can’t. You see, I don’t want my feet on the ground.”

He blinked.

“What I’ve been doing all this time is not what I want. I thought it was, but I’m tired.”

“You just had a bad case. The next one—”

“The next one will be more heartbreak and struggle, another person who life has beat down. I want to help them but not like I am now. This isn’t my calling.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Don’t tell me what to say, or feel!”

She moved away from him, and he said nothing. Something told her they wouldn’t get back what they lost, not without a fight, and right now she wasn’t up to it. To her surprise, Brent walked toward the door with his hands in his pockets, head bowed. He paused and turned to face her, expression hard.

“I’ll talk to you later, Della. Just don’t do anything stupid.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t run after him. I think you’re feeling a little emotional right now from your loss. When it’s past, in a few days, you’ll see who loves you and who has been here. Meanwhile, that bastard’s probably been fucking every woman that crosses his path since he left you. Think about
that.
”

The door slammed as he left, and she started. Irritation prickled the hair on the back of her neck that she had let him leave on the note he had. Who was the one being a bastard now? Whatever. She told Brent how she felt, and she had gotten Santi to leave. Everything would be okay.

When her stomach growled, Della walked into her bedroom, found a black dress that would camouflage her flaws and still look somewhat sexy and donned it. She pulled her hair high on her head and gelled the edges. After she had done her makeup, she slipped her feet into strappy heels and left the apartment. Tonight, she could fly solo.

Chapter Eleven

Santi leaned against the wall at the far side of the bar and swirled the drink in his hand. He checked his watch. At just past midnight, Della hadn’t stirred. She nursed her own drink and warded off the advances of a few men. When the first approached her, Santi started toward her to pluck the vultures off, but a few choice words from his cocoa beauty, and they flapped away.

He smiled and sipped his drink. She was such a sight, curvier than he remembered with breasts heavier. He thought he would come with that glimpse of the soft mounds earlier. The taste of her mouth had driven him mad, and he had been inches away from scooping her in his arms and carrying her to bed. He knew from her response that she wouldn’t have resisted. A few caresses, a stroke in the right place, and she would purr for him. That wasn’t what he wanted. How would he convince her to come home with him? Now was the time. He would wait no longer because he had been generous giving her three years. Three excruciating, miserable years.

Santi drained his glass and slammed it on the nearby counter. He strode toward her. Just as he drew near, another man approached. This
idiota
would not take no for an answer, and Santi clenched his hands into fists at his sides.

“I said no,” Della was saying. “What? Because I’m alone, I’m asking for your time?” Santi saw her tilt her head, and he recognized that scathing glance when she took in the man from head to foot and found him wanting. Amusement made him fight a smile.

“Come on, baby,” the man said, “I can show you a good time.”

He made the mistake of touching her, and Santi reached around Della’s shoulder to crush the hand on her wrist in a punishing grip. He peeled back the fingers, ignoring the cry of pain. “Touch her again,
y voy a matarte.
”

Della started and turned to face him. “Santi, what are you doing here?”

The
idiota
yelped, jerking at his hand, while Santi never took his eyes off him, nor did he lighten his grip.

Della hopped off the stool and grabbed his arm. “Let him go, Santi, before you get us thrown out of here!”

He released the man, and he backed off, swearing. “Piece of shit, you better be glad I’m not in the mood to…” The man faded into the crowd, and the few onlookers who had taken in the scene shook their heads. A few other men gave him a thumbs-up. Santi ignored them to take in Della. Closer to her now, he studied her face. Even after so long, she appeared the same, as if she hadn’t aged at all. Her beauty flared that thing in him that always surfaced when he looked at her, and all he wanted was to touch her.

His
pequeña flor
bristled with anger, but it didn’t bother him. He brushed a lock of hair from her ponytail and let the strands slide between his fingers. She knocked his hand away. Santi breathed deep and caught a whiff of her scent—apple, rose, and vanilla with a hint of tequila. What he wanted to smell was between—

“Hey, buddy, I’d appreciate it if you stop looking at me like you want to eat me and tell me why you’re here.”

Santi grinned. He caught her hand up to his mouth and kissed a fingertips. Just as he expected, she trembled. Her lips parted he imagined to fuss at him some more, but the words never came out.

“I was looking for you,
cariño.
”

“Santi, why don’t you give up?” Her words sounded like a plea.

“I can’t do that. I want you with me.”

To demonstrate his desire, he reached out and drew her to his chest, a hand about her waist. Her hands flattened on his chest, but she didn’t pull away. Santi leaned in to touch his lips to her neck. Again, he expected resistance, but there was none. Her hands moved to his arms, but rather than push at him, she held on, and her forehead dropped to his shoulder.

“Come to my room,” he whispered in her ear.

“I…”

He touched the tip of his tongue to her heated skin and then sucked gently at the spot behind her ear. Her sigh pleased him. “Say yes.”

He moved back at step and turned toward the door. When he held his hand out to her, she took it. Joy burst in Santi’s chest, and he guided her through the bar to the exit. She refused to leave her car at the bar, so he was forced to accept her following him to his hotel. Every second she wasn’t at his side reminded him of the torment of years separated from her.

At last, they turned into the parking lot of his hotel, and Santi collected her to take her to his room. Under normal circumstances, he felt no fear, no nervousness at taking a woman to bed. This time he battled thoughts of her changing her mind. He didn’t like the insecurity and cursed it.

In his room, Santi kicked the door shut and drew Della close. He couldn’t wait until they bypassed the living room and entered the bedroom. Having her in his arms took precedence, and when he kissed her sweet lips, he lost space and time until he raised his head again.

Della sagged against his chest, her eyes half closed, and her lips parted. He had kissed them until they swelled, and yet it wasn’t enough. He let his gaze lower to her dress and imagined it and the bra off. His cock hardened at the thought, and from the way she responded, he knew she felt it.

Santi bit back a curse when she drew away and turned her back. “I’m here to um…”

He moved around to see her face. She raised a shaky hand to her hair and licked her lips.

“Come to the bedroom,” he offered. She glared at him.

“Santi, I guess you’ve had plenty of women while we were apart, but it’s been a while for me. I’m doing this because, yeah, I admit it. I want you. I want you
bad,
and I’m going to have some fun tonight with you.”

He didn’t mind one bit of her using his body for her pleasure. Where he drew the line was at her thinking it would end with one night. “You are mistaken,
cariño.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“I haven’t been with another woman after you, because that would mean I was unfaithful. I fully intended to come for you again, so I was committed to you.”

She blinked at him in confusion, but then she frowned. “I said I’m staying the night! You don’t have to lay it on so damn thick.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“Would you?” she challenged.

He was quiet a moment and then eyed her. The question sat like a weight on his tongue, and he didn’t want to ask it. He knew he had freed her when he left. To think of another man touching her, another
inside
her—it sickened him.

“I will believe whatever you tell me,” he said at last. He cursed himself for not forming the words.

She rolled her eyes. “Well, like I said it’s been a long time. A woman’s not quick to trust another man after one used her.”

“I didn’t use you, Della.”

“Whatever.” She started to move past him, but he caught her arm.

“I don’t want to make love with you thinking I used you or that I’m using you tonight.”

“Then we’re at a stalemate, aren’t we?”

He stood, unmoving, tightening his lips.

She pulled out of his loosened grasp and took a step back. Her hands rose to the zipper at her nape and lowered it a few inches. When she brought her dress down over her shoulders, the swell of her breasts came into view. All pants room at his crotch disappeared. He swallowed, but it did nothing to quell his mounting desire.

Before she reached the end of the zipper, she spun away and started toward the bedroom. He let his gaze travel lower to her rounded ass and farther still to the sexy legs and high, strappy heels. “You can stay out here if you want,” she called over her shoulder, and disappeared into his room.

His resolution meant nothing. She tempted him beyond reason. Turn her down? Not for every cent in his bank accounts. Santi reached the bedroom doorway and extended a hand toward the light switch.

“No, don’t turn on the light,” she said.

“
Por qué?
Why? I want to see you, Della.”

“Things aren’t the way they used to be.”

He heard her uncertainty, and it angered him. A flick of his wrist, and light flooded the room. “You will not hide from me,
cariño.
You are as beautiful as you were three years ago. No, more beautiful. I want to feast my eyes on your body while I taste you.”

“Well, prepare yourself for the stretch marks.”

He ignored her words and finished unzipping her dress. He let it fall to the floor and then reached behind her to unhook her bra. Big, heavy breasts fell into his palms. He groaned and lowered his face to them, breathing deep. When he couldn’t stand it any longer, he licked each nipple and took it into his mouth. He sucked until she moaned, and her head dipped back.

“You were going to hide this from me?” he said, indignant.

“Not them. They’re great.”

“Si,”
he agreed.
“Delicioso.”

She straightened and offered him the sexy smile he had dreamed of for almost a decade. Santi sat on the side of the bed while she stood just between his legs. She started to take off her heels.

“No, leave them on.”

She smirked. “Well?”

He ran his hand over her soft skin, from the valley between her luscious breasts to her belly button, down to the band of her panties. Black and transparent with pink satin trim, the slip of material drew his fingers to explore, and he ran a digit to the beginning of her slit.

“These too,” he urged. “Take them off.”

“I could,” she teased him, “but they’re crotchless.”

Santi’s words came out as a croak, and he coughed to clear his throat. “You wore something like this to that bar? You didn’t know I would be there, Della! Did you have plans to meet someone?”

He thought of the man that wouldn’t take no for an answer, and his temper rose. Della’s chuckle did nothing to make him feel better.

“Calm down.” She grinned at him and turned her back, wiggling her hips. “I wore them to feel good. They’re for me.”

“No,” he corrected her, “they’re for me.” He leaned over and kissed one ass cheek and then the other. All of her joking around disappeared, and she grasped his wrists. He shook her hands free and spun her to face him. This time, he pushed his face between her legs, and she gave into him. Santi sucked in a deep breath through his nose and groaned. Her pussy’s tangy, light musky scent pushed him over the edge. He knew she was wet and ready.