He helped her out the vehicle and up the stairs into her house despite her colorful protests. She fell silent as they stood in her lit entryway and Cruz glanced at her. His stomach dropped.
She was radiant, yes. Her lips red and swollen, her body lithe and tight, but her eyes were despondent. Cold.
Dead.
She’d given up. He knew it, felt it as if she’d spoken the words out loud. His feet moved toward her before he caught himself and froze. He got what he wanted, so why did he feel like shit?
“Come on.” He grasped her elbow, directing her to the bedroom he’d visited once. The place smelled musky, locked up tight for the days she’d been away. In the bedroom he flicked on the light and stood beside her, staring at the unmade bed.
What a difference a few days made. The last time he’d been here, he had no idea of the secrets and lies Dahlia Pierce was capable of, no idea the woman he lusted after was involved intimately with his sister’s murder.
And now he was intimately involved with her.
Dahlia jerked away from his grasp and stalked over to a closet. “What are you doing? You should get some rest.”
She flung the closet doors open and dug inside, speaking to him over her shoulder. “I need to change the sheets on my bed.”
“Here, let me do it.” He walked up behind her and she shifted away. “I’ll make the bed, you go take a shower. It’ll make you feel better.”
The irony of his words weren’t lost on them both and she scoffed before hu r rying to the bathroom. Cruz stared after her. Already he regretted his plans, already he wanted to drop to his knees and beg Dahlia’s forgiveness. Already he wished their circumstances were different, that he was different. Shaking his head, he quickly stripped the bed and remade it with a set
of gray sheets and pillow cases. He also replaced her brown and gold blanket with a red one and folded it neatly at the foot of the bed, the way Ciske had taught him. When he finished he made his way to the kitchen, searching the fridge and cupboards for any food still edible.
As he heated up a can of tomato soup and waited for bread to finish toasting, he questioned his motives the way he knew Dahlia would. Direct from settling a virtual noose around her neck he was here, acting like he cared, going out of his way to take care of her.
Cruz mentally shrugged. Maybe he just wanted to protect his investment. No one could fault him for that, right?
Shit. He ran his fingers through his hair. He didn’t believe that and no one else would either.
He poured the hot soup into a bowl and fished the toast out of the toaster and onto a plate. Spying a serving tray next to the dish rack, he loaded the dishes on that, along with a glass of orange juice and a spoon then hur ried back to the bedroom.
Dahlia stood naked in the middle of the room, a towel wrapped around her head, a lost look on her face. She barely noticed his arrival.
“Hey, I brought you something to eat.”
She blinked at him, owlish and sad. “Fattening up the pig, huh?”
He kept his gaze on her face as he placed the tray down on the bed. “Get dressed and eat then you need to rest.”
She removed the towel on her head with a heavy sigh, shook her wet hair free, and climbed up on the bed. Cruz rushed to grab the tray of food before they spilled. Once she settled beneath the blankets, he sat beside her and dipped the spoon into the soup.
“Open.”
She did as told without a word and he fed her until she ate everything. Looking down at her Cruz felt strangely calm and domestic, taking care of her felt good. Right.
She turned away from him, pulling the covers up and over her shoulders. Holding the tray with one hand, Cruz brushed a lock of wet hair away from her cheek.
She stiffened. He stared down at her for a minute in absolute silence then exited the room. In the kitchen he deposited the dishes in the sink and pulled out his cell phone.
Ricki answered on the first ring. “Thought I’d hear from you sooner.” “I can’t do it.” The words burst from him like air from a balloon. Ricki didn’t speak.
“Did you hear me?” He frowned at the phone in his hand. “Ricki?” “I heard you.”
“What do you think?”
She sighed. “This is all you, Cruz. All of it is your doing and only you have the power to stop it. If you recall I called you a fucking ass when you came up with this damn plan of yours.”
He smiled. “You did, yes.”
“Because I know you and I knew you’d regret it.”
“God, Ricki.” He slumped against the counter. “I feel like I literally kicked her in the gut, so fucking low.”
“And if this was any other job it wouldn’t be a problem, would it?” “No.” He shook his head.
“Hmm.” He pictured Ricki grinning into the phone. “And why is that? Why is it a problem?”
That damn Ricki, cajoling as hell. His grip on the phone tightened. “Because I love her.”
“Atta boy,” Ricki cooed in his ear. “Was that so hard?” Cruz snorted. “Like shitting bricks, actually.”
“And you get to do it twice, cause unless Miz Pierce is standing next to you, you’ll have to tell her how you feel.”
Why in the hell was Ricki so gleeful about this? “Do I have to tell her? I’m much better suited to the role of bastard.”
Ricki sighed. “What you’re saying is you want to pussy out and not tell her at all.”
Now he felt like a bastard. “Damn it, in the grand scheme of things does she really need to know?” What good would that do? She hated him, probably wished his ass dead. Why does she need to know how he felt?
“Okay, you are hopeless,” Ricki shouted. “And freaking clueless and I’m very glad I’m not near you else I’d kick you in the ‘nads.”
The phone slammed in his ear.
Cruz frowned and stared at his phone. How in the hell did Ricki slam a cell phone shut? He shook his head. She might be angry at him but this was his choice, his way, and he was sticking to his decision.
Dahlia didn’t need to know how he felt. She already knew all she needed to. No sense in changing things mid-tempo.
He ignored the tiny voice yelling Ricki’s parted words in his ear and went back to Dahlia’s bedroom. Her soft snores reached him where he stood in the doorway, staring at her still form in the darkness.
He loved Dahlia. As he allowed himself to embrace that fact, he also accepted the realization he’d been in love with her since that day at the bank, when her wounded gaze seared his soul.
She hurt him with her secrets and in turn he went for the jugular. He
was heartless, treating her like the enemy when she’d been a victim herself. Maybe he thought his feelings would go away. Maybe he wanted to punish them both for what he saw as his betrayal to his sister’s memory.
And maybe I’m just a hopeless, clueless fool who needs a swift kick in the stones.
Dahlia needed her life back. All the things Austin Har rington took from her, held hostage, she had to get them back and for that to happen Cruz had to let her go.
His lungs burned at the thought but this wasn’t about him. Dahlia hated him and she had every right.
room to the bathroom. In the shower, he took his time washing away the past few hours. The first rays of morning sun streaked the bathroom walls, reminding him of the sleep he never had the night before.
Funny. He didn’t feel tired physically, but emotionally he felt raw and drained. Warring emotions. Too many all at once. He needed a job, something out of the country, as far away from Dahlia as possible.
The offer to escort a group of businessmen through the Venezuelan jungle sounded good right about now. Dodging bullets from guerrillas and the other elements tend to put things in perspective.
Yeah, that’s what he’d do.
He turned off the shower, wrapped one of Dahlia’s too-small towels around his hips, and walked into the bedroom.
He froze in the middle of the room.
Dahlia sat up in the bed, back against the pillows, her naked upper half exposed.
Crap! He pivoted. “Cruz.”
Damn it, when did her voice get so husky and needy? Cruz squeezed his eyes shut and bit the inside of his cheek. His body didn’t seem to get the ‘walking away’ memo because he was turning back around to face her, greedy cock tenting the towel.
“Why-” His voice cracked so he swallowed and tried again. “Why aren’t you asleep?”
She rose up on her knees, the sheet around her waist dropping inch by inch, revealing her creamy skin to his gaze. Soon she was all bare, nothing bar ring her body from his horny gaze and Cruz looked his fill at the flat stomach and neatly trimmed pussy he’d never get to taste again.
“I can’t sleep,” she said softly. “I need you to finish what you started at the airstrip.”
He began shaking his head before she finished speaking. “No. I can’t.” Was she crazy? He wouldn’t be able to stop himself if he touched her.
Dahlia moved to the edge of the bed on her knees then got off and walked over to him. “Then let me.”
She stood a hair’s breath away, eyes heavy lidded, the scent of her skin and arousal wafting to his nose on a heated cloud. He found himself speechless, unable to deny her anything anymore. Unable to deny his own desire to have the woman before him even for one last time.
She trailed a finger down his chest, chasing a bead of water, and he watched her fascination with the movement.
He wanted the one last chance at touching her, tasting her skin, but he didn’t know if he could do it then keep his resolve to walk away.
Dahlia peeled away the towel, palmed his erection, and he gave up on fighting.
On thinking.
She dropped to her knees, taking him in her mouth with a hum.
Cruz bit down on his knuckles, a futile attempt to stifle his gasps. His limbs grew weaker with every swipe of her tongue over his crown, with every bob of her head and pull of her mouth suctioning him in.
Slick sounds blended with the breath whistling from between his teeth. Dahlia cupped his balls, fondling him as she took him deep, to the root. Cruz palmed the back of her head and moved, thrusting gently between those lips sealed tight around his cock.
Her teeth grazed his tip. He bucked
She did it again.
“Shit.” He rose on his toes and canted his hips forward, burying himself as far as he could. Her eyes bulged as they stared up at him, lips stretched to accommodate his width.
“Dahlia, babe.” All the emotions he refused to voice tightened his chest, clogged his throat. Her lashed fluttered, his cock glistening as he slid in and out of her sweet mouth.
sinking into his ass cheeks. Cruz rocked back on his heels, in danger of losing his balance. He slid his fingers through her hair, petting her gently.
“Dahlia.”
One of her hands left his ass and circled his erection, stroking, pulling. Her pinkie traced his pee hole then dipped inside, pushing, opening him up.
“Ugh, God.” He pulled her hair, jerked her head back. “On the bed, get on the fucking bed.”
She released the testicle in her mouth and backed away. When the back of her legs bumped into the bed she crawled atop it backwards, legs spread wide, giving him a complete view of her pussy lips, swollen.
Glistening.
He took a step toward her and another before kneeling and grabbing her legs, pulling her to the edge of the bed. Her feminine musk, ripe and sweet, hit his nose as she sat on his face.
Cruz spread her softness, pulling apart her outer lips to plunge inside her. Tart and salt melted on his tongue. He swallowed and groaned.
Soft cries fell from Dahlia, bouncing off the walls as she writhed on his face, painting him with all that sticky juices. He slurped her, flicking his tongue up and over her clit, catching the hard bud between his teeth before releasing it and returning to the tongue-fucking.
No one spoke. The only sounds were his sloppy feasting on Dahlia’s cunt and her mewls above his head. He pushed her legs apart, positioned his mouth directly over her contracting pink hole, and sucked.
She cried out, body arching, thighs trembling. Her nails clawed his shoulders and he shuddered and groaned. His balls hurt, his cock wept. He flattened his tongue, dragging it from her clit to her ass before he lifted his head and leapt astride her.
“Spread ‘em,” he growled. Her eyes widened and he didn’t wait. Grabbing her legs, he propped them onto his shoulder and plunged into her.
“Fuck.” He gritted his teeth, fighting the orgasm churning at the base of his spine. Dahlia’s pussy contracted around him, feeling extra wet, extra tight.
Scorching hot.
He looked down at their bodies joined, at his cock pistoning out of her, slick, soaked with her juices.
No condom.
He threw his head back, moaning as she rolled her hips. The corkscrew effect pulled a hoarse curse from him. He savored the burn as her muscles squeezed him, massaged him.
“No bar riers,” he gasped. “I’m fucking you raw.”
She fisted the sheets, widened her legs and thrust onto him. He stared into her wild eyes, sweat matting her hair and shining on her skin. Fucking gorgeous, this woman he loved.
This woman he had to let go.
He lowered himself on his elbows, chest to chest with Dahlia, her diamond-hard nipples grazing him. She circled his neck, pulled him down and kissed him, open mouthed.
Hungry.
He returned her kisses, slowing up his tempo as she worked herself on him.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “So wet and tight for me.”
Cupping his ass cheeks, she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his hips, trapping him inside her.
“Always for you.” She nipped his neck. “I’m yours. I love you.” She tightened her muscles around him then released.
The orgasm reared up. “Damn.” He pounded into her, grunting as she lifted her hips to meet every stroke.
“Come inside me. Come inside me.”
She arched under him, pussy contracting with her release. Her orgasm triggered his, the roaring in his ears drowning out her hoarse chants. He
threw his head back and slammed in, emptying himself against her womb. Marking her for all time.
****
Dahlia came awake on a groan, legs scissoring as she stretched. She flung her arms out to touch Cruz and came up empty. Cracking an eye open, she turned toward the pillow next to her.
No outlines of a body remained on the cold sheets. The spot next to her was rumpled, but that could’ve been from her. He fucked her and didn’t bother sleeping next to her.
Typical Cruz.
Anger bloomed in her chest. After last night he couldn’t say he didn’t want her.
He can’t say he doesn’t love me.
Time for him to come clean and she’d make him.
She sat up, threw off the covers, and swung her foot over the side of the bed.
Paper crunched under her feet.
Bending over, she picked it up with a raised eyebrow.
Dahlia,
It had to be this way. You need your life back and I’m giving it to you. I’m sorry for the pain we caused each other. Sorry for this, too, but it couldn’t be helped. You won’t see me again.
Take care of yourself, C
She did her best not to count the days, the hours, since Cruz disappeared, leaving a Dear Jane letter behind.
Dealing with Austin’s businesses took enough of her energy. Proving she was indeed his widow, proving she had no ulterior motive. Lawyers consulted and judges ruled ultimately, granting her the lion’s share of all of
Austin’s dealings.
In the span of three weeks she had more money and responsibility than she knew what to do with and as she sobbed on the floor of her bath room, she knew she’d give it all away in a heartbeat if Cruz walked back through her door.
But he didn’t and she carried on, fielding the obligatory scrutiny that came from being associated with Austin Harrington. While she inherited Austin’s money she also inherited his debts, and she inked a deal, settling with all complainants who’d filed any suits against Austin and his companies.
Whatever those people wanted, she gave, because she’d learned firsthand how cruel that man had been.
And as she went about her life, there was the constant feeling of being watched. Of curious eyes staring as she went to the grocery store or visited with her family. She couldn’t escape the sensation. All types of conspiracies ran around in her head.
Finally she sold all her shares in Har rington Industries and walked away from the responsibilities she didn’t need or want.
At night she’d lay awake in her wide, empty bed and stare out the window at the stars, wondering where Cruz was. Had he moved on? Was he safe? She always went back to the beginning of them, in the bank and when he followed her home.
That time stood out more than the rest because for her, it was the most