Triple Time (11 page)

And like Leo always said, she might be
terca como una mula—
as stubborn as a mule—but she was no
pendeja—
dumbass
.

“Okay,” she whispered after what seemed like an eternity. “Uncle.”

“So you trust me?” He twined his fingers with hers and squeezed.

“Yes.” She squeezed back.

He shifted his weight so they were touching from shoulder to fingertip. His breath tickled her ear. “And you admit this isn't just physical? That there's something special between us?”

“Yes.” She tilted her head, bringing his mouth in contact with the sensitive spot just below her earlobe. “Now can we get out of here?”

She was practically begging. Not that she cared. She had a few “special” ideas of her own for the rest of their evening, most of which would get them arrested if they tried them at the Met.

“What's wrong?” His lips vibrated against her neck. “You didn't like your private tour?”

“I loved it. It was perfect. But now I want something more private. You know.” With her free hand, she reached across and fingered his belt buckle. “So we can concentrate on all that physical stuff you keep talking about.”

“You don't have to tell me twice.” He stood, pulling her up with him.

“What about all this?” She gestured toward the remains of their aborted picnic.

“My sister will take care of it. She helped me set everything up.”

“Holly?” Devin jerked away from him. “I thought she was still in Istanbul.”

“She is. I meant Noelle.” Gabe tipped his head to study her. “Would it bother you if Holly knew about us?”

Devin bit her lip, her brows knotted in thought. Holly might not like the idea of her best friend and her baby brother getting it on. But she wasn't the kind of person who'd judge them for it. “I guess not. As long as it doesn't bother you.”

“Not one damn bit. We're both consenting adults. Right?” He snaked a hand around her waist, tugging her back to him.

“Right.” She relaxed against his side.

They walked toward the exit, a shit-eating grin splitting Gabe's handsome face. “So let's get to the consenting part and worry about how my big sister's going to react later.”

Outside the building, Gabe whistled for a cab and pulled out his phone.

“Who are you calling?”

“I'm texting Ed and Noelle to let them know we're done here.”

A taxi screeched up to the curb. Gabe opened the door, ushered her in and gave the cabbie his address.

“Wait.” Devin addressed the driver then turned to Gabe, an idea percolating. She had a way to prove she was serious about trusting him, that as much as she wanted to get him alone where he could screw her in every yoga position imaginable without the threat of jail time, she was willing to open up. At least a little bit. There were parts of her life she'd never shared with anyone else. “Let's go to my place.”

“Your place?” Gabe pulled the cab door shut behind him. “I thought you wanted to try out my not-quite-California king? We won't have to fold it up in the morning.”

“I do. Some other time.” She scooted next to him, ducking under his arm and surrounding herself with his strength, his heat. “Tonight there's something I want to show you.”

His eyes sparked with desire. “Everything I want to see is right in front of me.”

“You will, believe me. But this is something else. Something in my apartment.” She rested her head on his chest. The even rhythm of his heartbeat calmed her, preparing her for the giant leap she was about to take. “My paintings.”

“Where to, folks?” the cab driver barked. “I haven't got all night.”

“You heard the lady.” Gabe's arm tightened around Devin, drawing her impossibly closer to his side. “Her place.”

 

11

“W
HAT
DO
YOU
want to see first?” Devin asked the minute the door closed behind them. “Me or my art?”

She was already breathing heavy—hopefully in anticipation of a night of hot, steamy sex and not with exhaustion from their dash up the stairs to her fifth-floor walk-up. Gabe's gaze fell to the shadowy area between her breasts as they rose and fell under the scooped neckline of her dress. “I'd like to be noble enough to say I'm more interested in your artwork than your body. But I'm not sure I can wait that long to touch you.”

“That's okay.” She pushed him against the door and worked one leg between his, rubbing against him and creating a delicious pressure in his khakis. “I'm not sure I can, either.”

“Thank God.”

He spun her around so their positions were reversed, her back to the door, his thigh wedged between hers, her full breasts crushed against his torso.

“No fair. I wanted to—”

He cut her off, covering her mouth with his. She made a little mewling sound that hit him deep in his chest and sent ripples of excitement down to his groin. Her lips parted, inviting him to delve deeper, an invitation he didn't hesitate to accept. His tongue swept her mouth from corner to corner before diving in and exploring. His hands roamed over her shoulders, past her waist and down the curve of her lower back, finally settling on the firm globes of her ass.

“Damn.” Ever the fucking gentleman, he broke off the kiss before he lost all self-control. “I wanted to go slow. Seduce you.”

“Seduce me later.” She hooked one leg around his hip and rocked against him. “Fuck me now.”

With a groan, he picked her up and carried her to the already folded-out bed. She hitched up her other leg and locked her ankles together behind his back, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Lazy?” He stopped at the foot of the bed, one side of his mouth twitching upward into a bemused smile. “Or optimistic?”

She tunneled her hands through his hair. “You're not the only one who knows the Boy Scout motto.”

“So you're always prepared.” His smile spread and he squeezed her glorious ass. “Are you prepared for this?”

He dropped her onto the bed with a gentle bounce and followed her down, draping his body over hers.

“I'd be more prepared if I was naked.” She kicked off her shoes, sending them skidding across the floorboards.

“That can be arranged.” He propped himself up on one elbow and reached for the hem of her dress with his free hand, inching it upward.

“You, too.” She undid one of his shirt buttons.

“Naturally.”

They stripped each other quickly, ripping their clothes off without fanfare.

“It's like opening a present,” he said, looking down at her. “And it's not even Christmas.”

“I'll bet you tore off the wrapping then, too.”

“Nope. I was the kid who folded the paper and saved it to reuse.” He traced his fingertips along her collarbone and she rewarded him with a shiver.

Her eyes darted to her leopard thong, in shreds on the floor. “I won't be reusing that any time soon.”

“I'll buy you a new one.” His lips followed the trail blazed by his fingers. “More than one.”

She smoothed a hand down his chest to his abs, coming to rest just below his belly button, within tantalizing reach of his still hardening cock. “Or I could just stop wearing underwear altogether. Save you the trouble of destroying them.”

“It's no trouble at all, I assure you.”

His mouth claimed hers, letting her know in no uncertain terms that, while he enjoyed witty sex banter as much as the next guy, the time for talking was past. He moved over her and she arched to meet him, twining one slim, strong leg around his and tugging him close.

“Please,” she moaned against his mouth, lifting her hips so that the tip of his erection, already wet with pre-come, brushed her equally slick folds.

Fuck
. She felt so damned good beneath him, the perfect combination of strength and softness, round curves and lean muscle. It took all his restraint not to bury himself inside her.

“Condom.” He raised his head and searched for his discarded pants, mentally congratulating himself for remembering to slip a fresh Trojan in his wallet before leaving for work that morning.

“I'm on the pill.” She pulled his head back down. “And I'm clean.”

“I am, too.” He took a dusky nipple into his mouth and gave it a quick, teasing swipe with his tongue before releasing it. “Clean, that is.”

“I trust you.” She gazed up at him, her eyes narrowed with lust. “I want to feel you. Only you.”

He dropped his head back and groaned low in his throat as he entered her, feeling her legs wrap around his waist, her heels digging into his back. Shifting so he could go even deeper.

“Oh,
yes
.” She clutched his shoulders, urging him to go faster, harder. Only too happy to oblige, he picked up the pace, thrusting into her with short, stabbing strokes.

“Can't hold out much longer,” he panted. She was too hot, too tight, too sweet.

“Then don't.” She met him thrust for thrust, her heat melding with his steel.

“Come with me.” He lowered his head to the valley between her breasts, licking a path to one nipple and sucking it into the warm wetness of his mouth.

“So close.”

“Yes.”

“Now.”

“Please.”

Her body shuddered and she ground against him, her fingernails pressing half circles into his back as she climaxed, shouting his name. With one last, powerful thrust he joined her a few seconds later.

Sweat-soaked, Gabe flopped forward.

“You're squashing me.” Devin squirmed underneath him. Impossibly, he felt himself hardening all over again inside her.

“Sorry.” He started to roll away.

“Don't be.” Her arms tightened around him. “I like it.”

“I'm not hurting you?” He propped himself up on his elbows.

“Not hurting.” Her voice was slurred, her body starting to slacken. “Healing.”

Her eyes drifted shut and her breathing evened. He stared down at her, more relaxed in sleep than he'd ever seen her, with her lips slightly parted and her long, ebony lashes resting like wispy shadows against her delicate cheeks. A low moan escaped her as she stretched under him like a cat, and he felt a strange, unfamiliar stirring in the region of his heart.

And that's when he knew.

He wasn't healing her. She was healing him.

* * *

“W
HAT
ABOUT
THIS
ONE
?
” Gabe crossed the room to flip around another canvas, rewarding Devin with a spectacular view of his tight ass. Damn, the man was fine. And remarkably unself-conscious in his nudity as he ambled about her apartment. Looked like Operation Loosey Goosey was paying off. “It's different from the rest.”

A knot tightened in her belly as she stared at the canvas. She sat up and pulled the sheet to her chin, concealing her bare breasts, as if she could disappear.

Gabe was right. Like the old
Sesame Street
song, that one painting was most definitely not like her others. She usually painted nudes. Some representational, some abstract. Studies of the human form, in all its beauty, with all its imperfections.

A shaft of morning sunlight cut across the canvas Gabe had chosen, bisecting its subject—a stuffed armadillo, love-worn, with an eye missing and his tail dangling by a thread.

Victor's armadillo. Tex.

Telling Gabe about the painting meant telling him the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth about her shitty childhood. Exposing a wound she hadn't uncovered since high school. But in a moment of weakness, she'd promised him—and herself—that she'd let him inside her, not just her body but her soul. Maybe even her heart.

“That was Victor's favorite stuffy,” she whispered. Her fingers clenched around the sheet. “Tex. He loved that disgusting thing. Wouldn't go anywhere without it. When our last foster family sent him back, it got left behind. I've always wondered how he managed without it.”

Gabe leaned the painting back against the wall, face out this time so Tex's one eye was staring at her, and strode to the foot of the bed, where his boxer briefs lay on the floor. “Sent him back?”

“Victor was...difficult. They couldn't handle him. The social worker said she'd try to find a place that would take us both, but...” She looked down at her lap. “I never saw him after that.”

“Maybe his adoptive parents bought him a new one.” Gabe scooped up his boxers, stepped into them and sat beside her, putting a hand on her thigh.

“Maybe.” She focused on the warmth of his hand bleeding through the sheet, calming her, helping her form the words she knew she'd have to say. Fuck, this was hard. “But it wouldn't have been the same. Victor was really attached to Tex.”

“I know what you mean. Holly had this nappy fleece blanket she carried everywhere until second grade. She wailed whenever someone tried to take it from her.”

“I'm sure she'll appreciate you sharing that with me.” Devin lifted her head and met his soft gray eyes, wide with anxiety. “But imagine that times ten.”

“That bad?”

“That bad.” She took a deep breath, put a hand over his and plunged on. “Autistic kids can develop an unusual attachment to certain toys or books or stuffed animals.”

“Autistic?”

She nodded, swallowing. “Victor was diagnosed when he was two and a half.”

“That's why finding him is so important to you.” He turned his hand over to squeeze hers, lacing their fingers together in that way he had, the way that made her feel as if she was the center of his universe.

“You don't understand.” Her bottom lip trembled and she fought to control it. She might be about to spill her secrets, but she wasn't ready to let him see her get all upset and emotional. Crying was for kids, and Devin hadn't been a kid for a long, long time. “It's my fault we got separated. I promised I'd take care of him. And I did until that social worker took him away.”

“How old were you? Ten? Twelve?”

“Thirteen.”

“You were just a child. Protecting him wasn't your responsibility. That's what adults are for.”

“Yeah, well, Victor and I drew the short straw in the adult department.”

“Your parents...?”

She relaxed her death grip on the sheet. “My so-called dad took off when Victor was diagnosed. My mom couldn't deal with the pressure of raising us alone. She started using when I was seven.”

Gabe didn't say a word, just gathered her to him, his warm, male scent enveloping her. The simple gesture opened a floodgate inside her, words spilling through like blood from a freshly cut artery.

“Pot. Heroin. Crack. Whatever she could get her hands on. I'd catch her shooting up in the bathroom. Got rid of her needles so Victor wouldn't hurt himself. Stole food from the bodega on the corner so we wouldn't go hungry. Which we did anyway.”

He swore under his breath. “I wish you had told me sooner.”

She froze and he swore again. “That didn't come out right. It's just if I had known what you went through I could have...I don't know. Done...something.”

“What's the point?” She squeezed her eyes shut as the tension drained from her muscles. “The past is past.”

“The point is you shouldn't have to bear that kind of burden alone. There are people in your life—me, Holly, Leo—who you can lean on.”

“I'm not so great at the whole leaning thing.”

“I can see that. Fortunately, I've got really broad shoulders. Perfect for leaning on.”

She opened her eyes to find him peering down at her, his gaze an alluring mix of concern and heat. Her heart did a little tap dance.

“Tell you what.” He stroked a finger down her arm. “How about we get dressed and head out for some breakfast?”

“I've got a better idea.” She took his hand and moved it to her breast. “The deli on the next block delivers, and they've got the best country ham, egg and cheese croissant south of Houston Street. Then we can spend the day in bed. Undressed.”

“Sounds great.” He cupped one plump mound through the sheet and squeezed. “Mind if I use your shower? Dressed or not, I stink.”

She pressed her nose to his chest and inhaled. “I like the way you smell. Sweaty, like a real man. But help yourself. I'll join you once I've ordered the food.”

He gave her a quick kiss and headed to the bathroom, giving her another chance to ogle him from behind. When he'd closed the door and she'd stopped drooling, she dropped the sheet and scrambled for her cell phone.

“Hey, Mateo. It's Devin. Can I have two of the usual and a couple of large French roasts, black? With milk and sugar on the side,” she added at the last minute, realizing she had no clue how Gabe took his coffee.

“Two?” Mateo's surprised voice crackled over the line. “You must be
mucha hambre
this morning.”

“Damn skippy. How fast can you get here?”

“Fifteen minutes. Twenty, tops.”

“Thanks,
bonito
.”

She ended the call, tossed her phone on the bed next to her and swung her feet onto the floor. The sound of running water told her Gabe was already in the shower, and she licked her lips at the thought of his magnificent, wet nakedness, slick and soapy, ready to play.

Oh, yeah.

She was about to ditch the sheet in favor of some smexy shower action when someone pounded on the door.

Shit
.

No way was that Mateo so quickly. Either someone had the wrong apartment or one of her neighbors needed to borrow something.

“Hang on,” she called. “I'll be right there.”