Seduction (4 page)

“Can we go?” she asks.

“Whatever you want.” I stand, puzzled by her reaction. One minute she’s hot like burning wax, the next, frozen. Our trash blew away and I go after it. When I glance back at her, she’s sitting with her legs tucked into her chest, gazing at the bay. I’ve seen that faraway look in women’s eyes before. I hate what it suggests. I shove that thought aside. I want to kiss her again.
Now.

That was the most sensuous kiss I’ve ever experienced. I had to put a stop to it. Craig is so smooth, he could talk me out of my pants in broad daylight in public. I can’t imagine how many women he’s slept with—kissed—seduced. And right now, under this summer sun, overlooking the water with the breeze in my hair, I’m terribly vulnerable. I haven’t relaxed this much in months—not enough to kiss a guy. Look what happens when I do. No one should know how to kiss like that.

In my periphery I see him staring at me. He’s wondering what happened, too. Natural attraction. I also like talking to him, even when we argue. It never felt this way with Estevan. Never. I’m at a loss for words. I thought I didn’t like Craig. He’s so arrogant. And all those nasty things he said to me last night—he meant them. How can that translate into a new crush overnight? I brush hair from my eyes and look up. He’s standing in front of me.

“What happened, Marisela?” He’s not going to let it go.

I try to formulate an answer. My cellphone rings. I dig into my purse and retrieve it. I look at the caller ID.
Not again.
Call number five from Estevan. He’s angry I left. I let voice mail pick up, but it rings again.

“Something tells me that’s part of the problem,” Craig says, frustrated. “Want me to fix it?”

I wonder what he means by that. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I should take this call.”

“Hello?” I say innocently. Never mind that my lips are swollen from Craig’s mind-blowing kisses. “At the park. No. I’m not coming back. I hate Austin. I hate…” Estevan threatens to kill me. My hands start shaking. Tears fill my eyes. “That’s going to be pretty hard to accomplish two hundred miles apart…” I cover my mouth. I just provided tactical information to my lunatic ex. “I’m not in Corpus!”

Craig’s big hand extracts the cellphone from my hands. I watch in utter horror as he holds it to his ear. Within seconds his face turns red, maybe blue. His heated gaze sweeps over me.
Oh. My. God.
What is Estevan saying now? “Really, motherfucker?” Craig bellows. “Let’s see you try it. Come near Marisela again and I’ll rip you in half.” He closes my phone and stares at me. He’s breathing hard.

I can’t handle the intensity of his stare. Tears prick my eyes again, and I turn my attention away from him.

“Marisela.”

No.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. I left all my secrets behind in Austin. Corpus is my only sanctuary. It’s the only chance I have to start over. “Leave me alone,
please.
”

He kneels in front of me and takes my hands in his. “I can’t do that,” he says. “Don’t you want to know what he said?”

I face him. “There are only so many variations in describing how you’ll carve someone into dice-sized pieces. Which body parts did he choose this time?”

“It’s not something to joke about,” he chastises. “No wonder you left in a hurry. Do Garrick and Robyn know?”

“No!” I inhale his sharp male scent. He smells so good. “You can’t tell them,
ever.
”

“Secrets have a way of catching up with you—just like lies.”

“Estevan isn’t a secret,” I say. “Everyone in Austin knows him. That’s part of his problem. His inflated ego…” I stop mid-sentence because I don’t want to waste time thinking or talking about that sadistic bastard. He’s history. I want to live in this moment. I gaze at Craig. Can he read my mind? Doesn’t he see I’m dying to be touched again?
Please. Kiss these tears away.
I don’t have seductive eyes. Hell, I don’t have sexy anything…

“Baby?” He blinks.

I know he’s trying to understand. I can’t verbalize what I’m feeling; I just can’t. I lean forward. I lick my lips. Anticipation is killing me.

“Marisela…touch me.”

His deep voice interrupts my intimate thoughts about him. I snap my gaze away.

He catches my hand and places it flat against his cheek. His massive palm covers mine. I shudder, hopelessly trapped. “I’m going to kiss you again, only this time, you’re not going anywhere.” He anchors me in place by holding my arms. I love the salty-sweetness of his mouth. I’m on fire the second his tongue meets mine. He thrusts inside my mouth, withdraws, then goes deep again. I melt into him. My insides churn—I’m instantly wet. I moan. His hands slide underneath my shirt, then up my back. His callused hands feel so good on my skin.

“You feel perfect.” He nuzzles my neck, then nips my earlobe. I shiver.

My phone rings again.

I groan in disappointment when he pulls away.

He looks at the caller ID. “How many times a day does this son of a bitch call you?” He sounds so angry.

“Too many.”

He stands and stretches his hand out. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“My house.”

I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. I’m already teeter-tottering on the edge of losing myself to this guy and I’ve only been reacquainted with him for two days. I don’t want to be another conquest. I’m not that kind of girl. I fought with all my strength to keep Estevan off me. I’m not sure I can say
no
to Craig. His fierceness turns me on. He reminds me of a blazing fire. All burn—all bite. I take his hand and he leads me back to his car. We get in and drive in silence. My cell rings again and again. I turn it off.

I haven’t been to Padre Island in so long. I stare out the window as we turn off the main road and then onto Ports O’ Call Drive. We stop in front of a brick duplex, two-story on both sides, with double-car garages. The front yards are perfectly landscaped. A white stone walkway cuts between two oversized flower gardens. There’s a copper dolphin fountain between the two properties. Craig opens his front door. I follow him inside and look around. I can’t believe he can afford this lifestyle on what I’m sure is a meager club salary. Maybe he’s a gigolo. I giggle at the thought.

“What’s so funny?” He looks at me quizzically.

“Nothing,” I say, letting my gaze wander. The kitchen, dining room, and living room are part of an open floor plan. I love the white Berber carpet against the whitewashed walls. I look overhead at the vaulted, dark wood–beamed ceiling. There are built-ins in the living room filled with leather-bound books. I’m completely surprised and scan his collection. Classic literature? Shakespeare, Hemingway, Steinbeck? That’s too good to be true. I doubt he’s read any of them. A laugh nearly escapes my lips, but I manage to suck it in. I run my fingers along the seam of the spring-green leather sectional, stopping abruptly when I see the black bearskin rug in front of the fireplace. “Did you kill that?”

“Two years ago in Montana.” He’s proud of it. “Do you like hunting?”

“Me?” I snicker. “I’ve never held a gun before.”

Everything is so perfect. The blend of colors, the island-themed artwork. There’s a beautiful statue of the Roman goddess Diana on his mantel. Above that is a portrait of a million-dollar yacht with Craig lounging on the deck. “Yours?” I ask, knowing it can’t be.

“My father’s, in California.”

“It’s beautiful.”

He joins me at the fireplace and glances up at the picture. “I miss sailing.”

“We used to go every summer in Port Isabel,” I say.

He looks at me. “Maybe we can go sometime.”

“Sure.” There’s no
sometime
for me and Craig. He is the embodiment of a predator. That’s what he is…and I’m about to get skinned alive like that poor bear. What am I doing here?

“All right?” he asks, running his fingers up my arm.

“I can’t believe you can afford this place on a bouncer’s salary,” I blurt.

He considers me for a long moment. “I don’t work for free,” he says. “I also own a landscaping company. I’m not rich,” he assures me, “but I’m comfortable.”

I’m impressed. Smart, sexy, and entrepreneurial.

“Why don’t you run upstairs and pick out a pair of shorts and a top. I want to show you something.”

“What’s wrong with my hoodie?”

He laughs. “Trust me.” He points upstairs. “Third door on the right.”

I assume this is a guest room. I open the walk-in closet and flip on the light. Hangers filled with women’s clothing. Dresses, skirts, blouses…It’s crazy. This guy is a modern-day Don Juan. Deeper inside I find a set of drawers. There are tank tops and shorts. I look for my size. I find a pair of dark blue
NAVY
shorts and a white tank top. I’m utterly confused. Do single guys usually keep a bedroom full of clothes for the women they entertain? If I doubted my instincts about him before, I don’t anymore.

Before I undress, I check for cameras. Of course this guy doesn’t need them. He lives it. I look in the full-length mirror standing in the corner. I haven’t worn shorts in a long time. I don’t like to show off the tattoo on my left inner thigh. I do admire my shapely legs, however—especially my calves. They run in my family. Walk two miles a day and we get model-worthy limbs. My makeup is good. The tank top is a tight fit. I don’t have any shoes to wear, only my riding boots and thick cotton socks. I lay my folded clothes on the end of the bed and sigh. I wonder what he wants to show me. I head downstairs barefoot.

He’s waiting in the kitchen, dressed in black warm-ups and a muscle shirt. His arms are bigger than my thighs. And his chest—I can’t help staring. He smiles. And I instantly look away. This tiger is batting around his prey—paw to paw. I’m beginning to feel the effects of it. I’m nearly breathless.

“Want some ice water?” he asks. I nod. A tall glass is waiting for me on the counter already. “Grab it and follow me.”

We walk to a door at the end of a short hallway. It opens into the garage. One side is converted into a gym. There’s everything here he needs to maintain that gladiator physique. Free weights, Nautilus home fitness equipment, a stationary bike, and a punching bag. He grabs a remote and clicks. Avenged Sevenfold comes on. Great taste in music, too.

“Come here, Marisela.” He’s standing in front of the punching bag.

I take a sip of water and put my glass down on a nearby cooler. When I reach him, he positions me in front of him, so I’m staring at the red canvas bag. He lifts my hands. “Don’t be afraid to hit it as hard as you can.” In slow motion, he guides my fists and I make contact with the weighted bag. It doesn’t even move. “Loosen up.” He lets go of my hands and walks around to the front.

I stare at him.

“Come on,” he encourages me. “Jab.”

I punch—like a girl. The bag barely moves. I hit it again, harder. I try a combo. It feels great. I exhale and put more power behind my punch. This time the bag swings a bit. I smile and grunt. I do it again.

“That’s it, baby, let it all out.”

I phase out and focus exclusively on my target. The bag becomes Estevan’s face and athletic body. I switch between jabs and power combinations. After ten minutes I’m sweaty and breathless.

“Keep going, girl.” Craig is my cheerleader.

Another five minutes…I can hardly lift my arms.

“Come on…”

She’s fearless. I love the fury in her smoldering eyes every time she lands a punch. I know who she’s thinking about. I want her to work this guy out of her system. Banish him from her mind and heart. Destroy him. I want him gone. After hearing his psychobabble over the phone, I’m ready to kill him. When I listened in, he was in the middle of a sick tirade about what he’d do with a knife to her beautiful breasts.

I’m still processing everything. Deciding whether or not I’m obligated to share what I know with her sister and Garrick. I’m also in the middle of choosing what to do with her. Surrender or run like hell before it’s too late. One taste of those lips and I’m mindless. Rock fucking hard. I look at her. From her tiny feet, up those toned legs, to those almost-too-big-for-her-tiny-frame breasts, which bounce every time she strikes the bag.
Shit.

For a minute I remember what it was like to run my fingers up her silky-smooth sun-kissed back. Perfect. She stops.

“Craig,” she calls, breathlessly. “It’s so hot in here. I can’t take it anymore. Can I take a shower?”

I can do better. I grab her ice water and take it to her. She gulps it down. “Come with me.” I lead her through the living room and out the French doors. “Does this work?”

She stares in disbelief. Then looks at me. “An indoor pool?”

“I’ll run upstairs and grab some towels, and…” I can’t finish my thought. My lips part and I suck in a quick breath. She wiggles out of her shirt, unsnaps her bra, and then dives into the water. Topless. She’s a sea nymph. I’m not about to walk away. I rip my shirt and warm-ups off.

She’s in the deep end with her arms raised over her head, hanging on to the edge of the pool, watching me. I’m fantasizing about what I’m minutes away from doing to her. She’s not safe right now. I stalk closer, my heart thundering. I’m conflicted. I jump in and head straight for her. She squeals and tries to escape. I’m into the chase. Three strokes and I’m at the shallow end before she reaches it. She stands feet away, slicks her long, wet hair back, and stares at me all glassy-eyed. Then she swims in the opposite direction. I let her go for a second, then pursue her. By the time she reaches the deep end again, she’s cornered.

She bites her bottom lip seductively before she disappears underwater. I watch her lithe body glide by. I want her in the shallow end. My eyes widen when she reaches the wall and stands up. The water is only waist deep. Her breasts are fully exposed, and water cascades down her flat stomach and thighs. I give a slow, disbelieving shake of my head as I advance. And to think ten minutes ago I was close to letting this one go. But I don’t care anymore.
She
opened this door and I’m coming in. My gaze locks on her breasts. Her dusky nipples are pierced with small-gauge gold dumbbells. Beautiful. There’s a delicate thorn wreath tattooed around her belly button. And a Bengal tiger tattooed on her inner left thigh—I wonder what that symbolizes. Guess I’ll find out. I’m three feet away now. She’s trembling even though the pool is heated. Her eyebrows furrow when I stop in front of her. She’s wedged between me and the wall.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Kiss me again,” she whispers.

On a growl, I scoop her into my arms. Her lips are parted and I claim that sweet mouth, demanding all of her. My fingers find her nipples and I tug gently on both piercings. She lets out a moan. I release her mouth and ravage her breasts with my tongue, swirling circles around her areolas, occasionally biting the end of her barbells and tugging with my teeth. I feel a ripple of pleasure go through her. “Come here, baby.” I spin her around and she wraps her legs around my waist. I clutch her ass with both hands.

I tear my lips away from her mouth long enough to trail hot, wet kisses down her throat. I back her against the wall and press my erection into her stomach. Her eyes flutter open—there’s no mistaking that look. She’s afraid. She should be—she’s driving me fucking crazy. Marisela is breathless; I feel her heart pounding against my chest. My hand slips between her legs and I gently cradle her snatch. I feel her heat and throw my head back. It’s too much.

We’re going inside. “Hold on tight,” I tell her. She wraps her arms around my neck and clamps me with her thighs. I stand up and head for the steps. I kick the doors open. We leave a water trail up the stairs. I don’t give a shit. I lay her on my bed. I pause to fully appreciate what’s in front of me. I shake my head—she’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, put together like the statue on my mantel. I want her so fucking bad.

I immediately relieve her of her shorts. Her snatch is shaven clean—I lick my lips. I kneel at the foot of the bed and drag her bottom to the edge. I’m eye-to-eye with her glistening wet paradise. I gaze at her tiny lips, then tickle the outside of her slit with the tip of my tongue. She nearly jumps off the bed. I laugh inwardly. This is going to be a long, slow seduction. I stand and then lean forward, covering the lower half of her body with mine. I gaze up at her.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

Everything has to be perfect. I slide up her body, then kiss her. She’s all over me, grabbing my ass, digging her long fingernails into my back. I grab two fistfuls of her hair and ram my tongue deeper inside her mouth. Her hips jerk. I grind against her, my cock jammed between our bodies. She’s clearly inexperienced, but there’s something untamed inside her. I see it in her eyes, feel it every time she jolts against me. This has exceeded mere infatuation. I want her more than any other woman I can remember.

I want to know everything about her.

Slowly, I kiss my way down her torso. I love her pert little nipples, the shape of her innie belly button, her slim arms, and that snatch. I can’t stay away from it. “Can you slide up for me, baby?” I have a custom-made mattress. She scoots up until her head smacks the headboard. I smile—she eyes me suspiciously. “It’s all right,” I gently reassure her. “Let me make you feel good.” She lies back and I spread her legs wider.

I skim the outside of her mound with my tongue, penetrating her with one finger at the same time. Her legs quake, but I pin them down. Judging by her reactions, no matter what I do, she’s going to try and squirm her way off the bed. If I were the beast I usually am, I’d grab the silk straps from my dresser drawer. Just the thought excites me and I push her physical limits a little farther. I lick her violently—relentlessly—until she cries out. I slip a second finger inside her, suckling her clit. She wiggles. I growl and squeeze her thigh. My face is covered with her sweet juices. I withdraw my tongue halfway and thrust deeper. I do it again. Again.

“Craig
…”

I want her to scream my name. I suck her nub into my mouth. Her shaking legs register a ten on the Richter scale.

“Craig
…”

I capture her orgasm with my mouth. I raise my head—she’s satiated, her pretty face flushed with pleasure. It’s my turn to do what I’ve wanted since the moment I spied her heart-shaped ass in those tight leathers at the club. I want to sink my dick so deep inside her she won’t be able to walk for a week.

I drift down the bed and then open my nightstand drawer. She’s watching, but I don’t want her to see my condom collection. I grab a Trojan BareSkin and open the wrapper.

Before I get it on, she’s beside me, staring down. “Do you want to touch me?” I ask. I guide her hand between my legs and bite my tongue when her tiny hand tries to close around me. She strokes gently—but I’m not in the mood for anything else but old-fashioned copulation.
Now.

My phone rings.

I lean in and give her a long, sensuous kiss. It feels too good.

The phone rings again.

She lies back and I kiss my way down her side.

It rings again.
Goddamnit.
I know the drill. There’s an emergency at the club. If I don’t answer, they won’t stop calling. I hear my cell downstairs. The house phone rings again. “Shit.”

“You’d better answer,” Marisela says.

I crawl to the other side of the bed and pick up. “This better be good.” It’s Darren Starr, the owner of the Devil’s Den. “Three Banditos? One’s threatening to set the club on fire?” I gaze heatedly at Marisela. “I’ll be right there.” I slam the headset down.

“Baby.” I’m pissed. “Will you wait here for me?”

She looks at my alarm clock. “I can’t—it’s already five and Robyn wants me home for dinner by six. I’ll call her and get a ride to pick up my bike.”