Pure Lust (Lust for Life) (12 page)

“I am unbelievably all right,” she answered, her own voice
strained.

“You tell me to stop and I’ll stop,” he whispered,
sprinkling kisses over her skin between words.

“If you don’t go soon I’m going to lose my mind.”

He pulled back slightly, making her gasp. “As you wish,
baby.”

He sank his teeth into her shoulder and pushed forward a
little deeper than the first time. His pace was slow at first, every thrust
pushing farther, filling her deliciously, stroking against nerve endings so
new, so sensitive, she could do nothing but grind her teeth and ride out the
fantastic thrill.

It was too much and not enough all at the same time, the
feel of him filling her, his hard chest and stomach moving against her back,
the kisses he was planting on her skin and the harshness of his ragged
breathing so close to her ear.

And then he slipped a hand between her legs to touch her
clit.

The first wave of her orgasm hit without warning, making her
scream in surprise at the intensity. Another wave washed over her, and then yet
another, each surge more powerful than the one that came before. And then his
hips pushed into her hard enough to move her across the bed as his cock started
to throb and he moaned deeply and more desperately than she’d heard from him
before.

That wild, falling sensation continued to course through her
until she thought she could die happily of it. He collapsed on top of her and
the heaving, breathless weight of him was exactly what she needed to anchor her
to the earth so her body didn’t follow her spirit into outer space.

Tears trickled out of the corners of her eyes. He whispered
her name, lifted his head and kissed her shoulder. She turned her face away,
embarrassed to be crying, but not sure why it was happening, because she felt
nothing but pure contentment.

Diego moved very slowly and carefully, tossing the pillows
aside as he rolled her onto her back. He stretched out beside her, drew her
into his arms and kissed her until she was lost in his mouth once more. She
didn’t realize the tears were still flowing until he brought one hand up and
smoothed them away with his thumb.

There was concern in his eyes when he lifted his head and
looked down at her.

“Are you hurt?”

No, but she was going to be. And not in the way he was
suggesting.

She shook her head. “Just happy.” For the moment. She’d
walked into their arrangement with her eyes wide open, but it was going to kill
her when it ended.

The concern didn’t leave his eyes as he scanned her face,
his thumb wiping away another tear as it followed the others. And then he was
leaving her—her body, her bedroom—and she was blinking up at the ceiling,
trying to force her eyes to stop what they were doing and wondering what had
just happened. She thought she should start to clean herself up, but she was
too humiliated by his sudden departure to move.

She heard water running and then he came back with a
washcloth and a couple of small towels and started to clean her up. He gently
washed and dried her, his touch somehow so much more intimate than the act had
been.

After the collection of toys and accessories had been
cleaned, put back in the bag and set on her dresser, they crawled under the
blankets. Diego pulled her into his arms, his legs entwining with hers, and
immediately started to kiss her in his slow, dreamy way.

She felt like she should say something—thank him or
something, although that seemed utterly ridiculous—for teaching her that a
sexual act she’d once thought of as taboo could be an incredible experience.
But the words wouldn’t come. She was afraid to open her mouth and say the wrong
thing, to ruin what little time they had by confessing she’d fallen rather
deeply in love and push him away too soon.

So she let him kiss her instead of speaking. And when Popeye
jumped on the nightstand and stared at them with his angry stalker eye, Diego
laughingly pulled the covers over their heads, rolled on top of her and claimed
her body yet again. The laughing quickly changed to sighs and moans, and then
they were pushing the blankets to the floor, exposing their heated bodies to
the cool air of the room once more, heedless of whatever wrath the cat decided
to heap on them.

But Popeye quickly lost interest, and soon they were both
coming again, holding each other tightly, their gazes locked as if they were
both afraid to look away.

For a moment she could have sworn she saw the feelings she
had for him reflected in his eyes. And then he closed them.

Diego was just drifting off to sleep hours later when he
heard the squeak. He’d been around enough the past couple of weeks to know
Claire’s back door only made that sound as it was closing. Adrenaline coursed
through him as he realized someone had let themselves inside—because he and
Claire had gone to bed without setting the alarm.

Something he realized they’d forgotten to do about half of
the nights he’d stayed over since she’d had it installed since they often ended
up in her bed before night had completely fallen, and then didn’t leave her
room again until the next morning.

Claire must have still been awake enough to hear the sound
too, because she raised her head off his shoulder and looked at him in the
dark, her eyes wide with fear.

He put a finger to his lips and rolled toward her,
encouraging her off the side of the bed opposite the open bedroom door. When
they got to the floor he pulled the sheet down and quickly draped it around her
before he grabbed his pants from where he’d left them on the floor at the foot
of the bed, got his phone out of the pocket and pressed it into her hand.

“Get in the closet and call the police,” he whispered to her
as quietly as he could.

She shook her head and opened her mouth as if she meant to
say something, but Diego put a finger to his lips again.

“Please,” he whispered, pushing back the fear of what could
happen if she was anywhere near him if he had to confront someone stupid and
scary enough to break into her house in the wee hours of the morning.

The fact that she was wasting valuable time, staring at him
as if she was trying to decide what to do when all he wanted was to get her out
of harm’s way, was starting to frustrate him. But then she crawled across the
floor and disappeared into the shadows under her hanging clothes. Diego reached
across the space and pushed the door mostly closed, then turned back to face
the open door across the room.

He paused a moment to listen but didn’t hear anyone moving
around before he pulled the gun safe he’d installed out from under the bed,
pressed the code into the keys, removed the 9mm and the clip and snapped it
into place.

“I’m armed and we’ve already called the police,” he called
out, his voice seeming so loud in the dark, dead of night that it gave him
chills.

There was still no sound from the hallway or any of the
rooms beyond, so he slowly made his way toward the door, listening closely for
any kind of movement. From behind him he could hear Claire speaking quickly but
quietly to the 911 operator.

Diego pressed his thumb to the safety lever, put his back to
the open door a moment, then ventured a peek down the hallway, grateful his
eyes were already adjusted to the dark. The intruder had been so quiet moving
around he didn’t see it coming when the blow hit him from the opposite side of
the door than he would have expected. Something blunt struck in the left side
of the face and then fire burned up the length of his arm when he raised it to
block the next blow and was slashed by a knife.

Diego spun toward his attacker, swung his right arm around
so the butt of the gun connected with human skull, hitting him hard enough his
head ricocheted off the wall without knocking him down. Diego raised the gun,
his thumb turning off the safety as he did, and loaded a bullet into the
chamber. The man, still mostly hidden in shadow, froze, the arm and hand
holding the knife poised in the air for the next strike.

“I told you I was armed, you fucking dumbass,” Diego ground
out through his clenched teeth, angry indecision rushing through him. “Drop the
knife or I will not hesitate to put a hole right through your goddamn head.”

He heard the knife hit the carpet with a flat thump, but
that wasn’t satisfying enough. He was so lit up with rage he wanted to beat the
guy unconscious with his bare fists and then pistol-whip him half to death for
terrorizing the woman he loved.

“I should shoot you on principle,” he said, taking a step
forward as the guy took a step back. “It would be completely justified, you
know.”

With one hand still steadily aiming the gun, Diego backed up
half a step and found the light switch, flipped it on and found exactly the man
he’d been expecting—Steve.

“She’s mine, you know,” Steve said, his tone matter-of-fact.
“She just needed a little more time to see it. She was getting so close until
you interfered,” he finished, curling his lip, his eyes full of hate.

Only Diego wasn’t so easily intimidated. “One bullet, right
between the eyes, and I’ll put you and any other woman you so much as
think
about terrorizing clean out of your misery, you sick fuck.”

Steve only chuckled.
That
sent a slight chill up his
spine. Diego forced the thought of what might have happened if the guy had
somehow managed to get past him and get his hands on Claire out of his mind. A brand
new, almost overwhelming wave of rage surged through him, but there were
suddenly flashing blue and red lights coming through the window in Claire’s
bedroom, stopping him from acting on it.

“Looks like it’s your lucky day,” Diego snarled.

And then the police were through the door, crowding into the
narrow hallway. In a flurry of movement, one of them drew his gun while the
other pushed Steve to the ground, handcuffed him and the two of them removed
him from the house.

Another of the officers took the 9mm from Diego, gave him a
slightly sheepish look and pointed to the lower half of his body. He was still
stark naked.

Yet another officer asked him if he needed an ambulance at
the same moment Claire came up behind him and wrapped the bed sheet around his
waist, gasped at the sight of the knife and the large drops of blood on the
carpet.

“He cut you,” she said breathlessly, pressing the loose
sleeve of the robe she’d put on to the dripping gash on his arm. She looked up
and her eyes went wide. “Jesus,” she whispered and touched just below the spot
on his cheekbone where he’d been struck.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her, although it hurt like hell.
He replaced the sleeve of her robe with a corner of the sheet. “I would like to
put my pants on, though,” he said and got the go-ahead from one of the cops
watching them closely.

When he came back out everyone had moved to the living room
and Claire was already answering their questions.

“You guys got here awfully fast,” he said.

“The 9-1-1 dispatcher told me someone had called right
before me to report someone sneaking around the outside of my house,” Claire
told him, picking up a bottle of alcohol and some gauze from the coffee table.

At least someone had been paying attention for a change, he
thought with no small amount of shame. He’d helped her install new locks on her
doors. He should have been the first one to remind her to set her alarms at the
end of the night. Instead he’d been the one to put her in danger. Again. She
was going to be so much better without him.

Claire tended to his arm while they answered the cops’
questions, told them what they’d seen and how Claire knew Steve. An ambulance
arrived but they decided that Claire could drive him to the hospital to get his
arm stitched up. She swore she wasn’t all that shaken up, but he could see in
the way she’d gone very serious and seemed somewhat distracted that she wasn’t
being entirely honest with him.

She held his hand while they waited two hours for a doctor
to see him, but she kept drifting away, looking off in the distance or staring
at the television in the corner of the waiting room without really seeing it.
When they finally took him back and started to stitch him up she told him she
was going to the cafeteria for coffee, but when she returned her eyes were red
as if she’d been crying.

Diego didn’t take his eyes off her as the doctor finished
taping a fresh bandage over his arm and told him the nurse would be right in to
give him aftercare instructions, but Claire wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“Come sit with me while we wait,” he said when they were
alone.

She did, and he wrapped his good arm around her, pulled her
head down to his shoulder and touched his lips to her forehead. The scent of
her hair was even more soothing than the mild painkiller they’d given him.

“What a shitty way to spend our second-to-last night
together,” she said quietly.

The bottom dropped out of Diego’s stomach. Was it really
going to end?

Did he still want that? Did she?

“At least I was with you,” he said. He couldn’t bring
himself to consider what would have happened if he hadn’t been.

“Whatever,” she said dryly. “I would have shot his stupid
ass.”

Diego couldn’t help it, he threw back his head and laughed.

She wrapped her arms tighter around his waist and pressed
her nose and mouth to the side of his neck. He could feel the breath of her
silent laugh, and then she sighed.

They went to breakfast as soon as he was discharged, then to
get his car and to his loft, where they crawled exhausted into his bed and
slept. He woke up alone late in the afternoon with the sunlight streaming in
his bedroom windows, his heart heavy with the news she was gone long before he
found the letter taped to the bathroom mirror.

It thanked him for everything he’d done for her, especially
for protecting her the night before and for the two most amazing weeks of her
life. It also she said she couldn’t say goodbye in person, that it would hurt
too much to kiss him while knowing it was the last time, so she was taking the
coward’s way out.

Part of him was grateful she’d done it. He wasn’t sure he
had it in him to say goodbye to her either. No, he was positive he wasn’t ready
to say goodbye to her at all. So much had happened over the course of two
weeks, starting with her forgiving the punk kid he’d once been and ending with
her trusting him with her life.

There was no denying she’d changed him in ways he’d never
expected. She was so much more than just another of the women he’d dated. Even
those he’d really liked had been relatively easy to walk away from when it came
time to end the relationship.

Diego could no longer imagine what his life was going to be
like without Claire. He loved her cozy little house and her one-eyed cat who
sometimes loved, sometimes hated him. He grown to look forward to the sound of
her voice, loved the sound of her laugh and the way their bodies fit so
perfectly together in so many ways.

She’d made him want something he’d been telling himself he
didn’t want or need for so long he’d forgotten they were still options for him.
Most of all, she made him want to try again. Except he knew that he wouldn’t be
able to look himself in the eye the rest of his life if he broke the ultimate
trust and let Claire down the way he’d let down that incredible young woman
he’d been in love with all those years ago.

He read the letter three times before he folded it neatly
and put it on his bedside table, then showered and got ready for the final
dinner his parents were having at their house. The fact that his mother’s
famous lasagna was on the menu did little to brighten his mood. Not only was he
going to have to explain the bruise on his face and cut on his arm, but they
were going to want to know why Claire wasn’t with him.

He told them about the attack as a way to explain the bruise
and the stitches, but he didn’t have a good answer for Claire’s whereabouts.
Tammy looked at him suspiciously throughout dinner, her expression making it
clear she was sure he’d goofed it up somehow, but it was Eva who pulled him
outside to the empty backyard after the last of the dessert dishes had been
cleared.

“Where is she?” she asked, her tone accusatory.

He sighed. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since this
morning.”

She crossed her arms and simply looked at him a minute.

“Then why are you here, Diego? Why aren’t you out chasing
her down, making her forgive you for whatever it is you did to make her go
away?”

“Why does it have to be that I did something? Why can’t it
be that we mutually agreed that it was going to end when it was time for me to
go back to California?”

“Okay, it’s what you didn’t do then.” She huffed out an
impatient breath and very lightly laid her hands on his upper arms. “Did you
tell her you love her?”

He looked back, afraid for a moment to answer. Because
answering would be admitting it. And admitting it would make it real.

Who was he kidding? His love for her was as real as it got,
but it didn’t seem to be having much of an effect on the doubts still running
through his mind.

“She lives here, Eva. Her job, her family, the house she
owns
…all
here.”

She shrugged. “Last I heard babies are born in San Francisco
every day.”

“And then what would you do when it comes time to give Olive
a little brother or sister?” he asked pointedly to remind her of the threat
she’d made if he did something to take her midwife away. “I’d rather keep my
balls, thank you very much.”

Her hands came up to hold his face, her eyes locked on his.
“You’ve been old enough to date girls my entire life, Diego. I have never seen
you look at a woman the way you looked at her yesterday. She’s the one, and if
you let her get away, I will give you a black eye to go with that ugly-ass
bruise on your face. And then I’ll castrate you on principle.”

He hugged her close and put his good cheek to the top of her
head.

“I don’t know if I can,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t know
if I have it in me. I’ve been the way I am for so long, Eva. I’m not…sure.”

She jerked back and gave him a disbelieving look. “Who
are
you and what the
fuck
have you done with my big brother? My big brother
has balls the size of Texas. You.” She scanned him from head to toe as if she
wasn’t sure what she was looking at. “Whoever you are, you’re nothing but a
chickenshit loser.”