Chapter Eight
Lauren slouched in her office chair, her emotions a mess. Before her evening in the park with Dante, which was already several days in the past, she’d been falling too quick and hard for him. Since then…
She couldn’t keep doing this. It was the same warning she’d given herself that night.
After she and Dante caught their second wind, he’d brought her to the horse she’d petted, helped her on the dumb thing, and slapped its flank. “Giddyap, Bessie. We gotta catch up with them vile critters who took our beloved schoolmarm. She ain’t done teachin’ us right.”
Lauren laughed so hard, she collapsed on the horse’s wooden mane. “Is that you talking, Black Bart?”
“No, ma’am. He’s the scoundrel who whisked Miss Prudence Pure Heart away, but I am packing heat.” He flexed his hips.
She choked on a giggle. “Oh my. It’s not a bird or a plane. It’s Super Cock.”
Dante howled and grabbed onto a pole to keep from falling off the carousel.
They laughed themselves silly. It was magical, especially after they finally calmed down and he stood at her side, seemingly content to watch her enjoy poor Bessie, who couldn’t do anything except slide up and down a pole. When they finally left, they’d strolled arm in arm back to his pickup, pausing frequently to kiss.
Each time they embraced it was tender, not sexual, which made the moments more captivating. They played with each other’s fingers. He slipped his arm around her waist and, to her surprise, swung her off her feet, like teens would do when they horsed around. She’d missed that growing up and appreciated it more now than she probably would have then. When they chilled and simply strolled, their silence was comfortable rather than awkward, neither trying to entertain the other.
Leaving him to go home was one of the hardest things she had ever done. She’d wanted to wake up with him in the morning even as she warned herself to cool it. Those were dangerous thoughts. He’d never be hers for the duration. He was simply a great guy and kept proving it.
The morning after their park escapade, he’d offered a check to help with her bills, which led to their first argument. She started it, and he refused to participate.
“Come on.” He wagged the check, coaxing her to take it. “You need this. I don’t.”
Lauren pushed his hand away. “I can’t accept it.”
“You’d rather see your car repossessed or your condo foreclosed on? That’s smart.”
None of this was. Men like him were on this earth for women blessed with great looks and killer bods. Lauren was okay looking but not a raving beauty. She and Dante were friends. That. Was. It. Eventually, he’d fall in love with someone as gorgeous, sweet, and smart as Jasmina. When he did, it would hurt, but Lauren didn’t want it to destroy her. She’d barely made it through the last crap life had thrown her way and didn’t need more piled on top.
She’d told him refusing his money was her decision. “Why won’t you respect it? Is it because I’m a woman?”
His eyebrows lifted. “What does your damn sex have to do with anything? You’re in a bind financially. It happens to the best of us. I’m just trying to help.”
“You’re not facing reality. You never do.”
Dante stared. “What?”
Even though she knew she was out of line, she couldn’t shut up. “Life isn’t about going to parks and riding merry-go-rounds or pretending that being a tattoo artist and managing a parlor that’s barely surviving is actually a career. It’s not about having fun all the time. It’s making hard choices and sticking with them. That’s what being an adult is about.”
She snatched the check, tore it to pieces, and threw them on the floor. “When I say no, I mean no.”
They’d been in the back room before hours when she’d said that. Finished with being a bitch, she’d stormed to her office, slammed the door, and locked it. With her face in her hands, Lauren had cried as she hadn’t since her mom had passed. She’d wanted to apologize to him but couldn’t bring herself to do so.
She was afraid to touch Dante again or have him hold her. Hell, she was terrified to see him, so she avoided being anywhere he was, which proved challenging in such a small building.
The first time she ran into him, almost literally, she’d left her office at the same time he strode down the hall and reached her door. She reared back and returned to her desk, feeling like an idiot, but was too scared to do anything else. Her heart pounded, and her hands shook. She feared he’d come inside and would say something to screw her up more than she already was.
He greeted his client, and they talked sports on the way to his workstation.
Somehow, his seeming indifference was worse than if he’d given her a dirty look for bitching at him.
The following day, they ended up in the back room at the same time. She’d deliberately waited to take lunch until late in the afternoon and hadn’t expected him to be there. He was sitting at the table, eating a Cubano. Before he noticed her watching him, she raced inside, snatched a Dove Bar, and hurried away, hoping he’d call her back yet scared he would.
He didn’t. He went about his business like nothing horrible had happened between them or he didn’t care that it had. She’d grown used to disinterest from her father and the guys who’d dumped her. Not from Dante. She wasn’t certain how much more she could stand.
Exhausted and lonely, she couldn’t fight her feelings this afternoon and wanted to simply indulge in comfort food.
Dante was again in the back room at a time he wasn’t usually there. She knew because she’d tracked his movements these last days and religiously checked his schedule. Too bad she hadn’t thought to look at the monitor. Unlike the few other instances they’d run into each other, this time she didn’t race away.
He smiled softly at her paisley skirt, a look of longing in his eyes.
Today was the first time since she’d hollered at him that she hadn’t worn jeans. She was also back to ditching her panties. She figured she was sending him—and herself—mixed messages but couldn’t seem to stop.
Nor could she run any longer. It was time to face him. “Hey. You doing okay?”
He regarded her with unmasked yearning. “Are you?”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I—”
Van Gogh shuffled into the room, looking as gloomy as always. He sank into a chair, ready to take his afternoon break. Not wanting him as a spectator to her fucked-up feelings, she hurried to her office, terrified Dante would knock on the door and want to talk, since she’d finally broken the ice between them. When he didn’t, her spirits sank even further.
She forced herself to surf job boards, then summoned her courage and checked her email. More than fifty messages stuffed her inbox, many from employment websites, big box stores having sales, horoscope sites with her daily reading, and one from a K. Ivers.
Lauren frowned at the vaguely familiar last name and tried to place it but couldn’t. The subject line was typical—“Regarding your candidacy”—and meant bad news was coming.
On a muttered oath, she opened the email and read:
Good afternoon, Lauren,
In March, you interviewed for a human resources position with us at our West Palm Beach office. Although that job has been filled, we have a new opening we believe you’re quite suited for and would like…
She stopped reading, too floored to concentrate. The sentences kept swimming. She ordered herself to calm down and reread the message repeatedly. She even checked the email address to make certain this was actually for her and hadn’t been misdirected from some other Lauren’s account, if that were even possible.
The company wanted to interview her this Thursday for a senior HR position. Three days from now. K, for Karen, wanted Lauren to call to confirm that she was still interested and would be able to make the interview.
Her hands shook. She could barely tap in the number on her smartphone.
On the second ring, the receptionist answered with the company name.
Lauren went blank and couldn’t speak.
The young woman did. “How may I direct your call?”
She tried to get a grip. At last, she stated her name and the reason she’d phoned.
“I’ll put you on the calendar for Thursday.” She gave Lauren the time. “Will that be okay?”
After all these months of little hope, it was perfect. “Yes, I’ll be there.”
“We’ll see you then. Have a wonderful day.”
Lauren said the same, ended the connection, and reread Karen’s email several times to make certain she hadn’t misunderstood anything. Convinced she was on firm footing, she replied that she’d just confirmed her Thursday appointment. A precaution should the receptionist forget to tell Karen about it.
Almost immediately, her inbox chimed with Karen’s warm response stating how much she looked forward to their meeting.
Lauren trembled with happiness, then went numb as doubt settled in, not knowing how to feel. She’d waited so long for this. Unfortunately, it sounded too freaking good. Common sense and her usual lousy luck told her not to believe it. This would probably fall through just like everything else had.
To be on the safe side, she applied to several other positions. After slogging through the online forms, she checked her inbox again. This time there was an answer to her ad about the parlor. She’d gotten several in the last few days, all worthless. Not expecting much, she opened the email and got her second surprise today.
Unlike the other replies she’d received, this one provided detailed information about the potential buyer, including several website links. Lauren checked them out. The guy already had numerous tattoo parlors across the state and was looking to expand. She returned to his email and read carefully, especially near the end.
I’d like to see a prospectus of Wicked Brand.
Please send one at your earliest convenience.
His request impressed Lauren the most. Weeks ago, she’d slaved over a PowerPoint presentation and her video of the parlor, figuring she was wasting her time since no one would ask for them. Hell, the others who responded to her ads wouldn’t have known what the word “prospectus” meant. Given their poor grammar and crude language, she suspected they were more into porn sites than finance.
She rechecked the figures in the presentation and brought them up to date. For the last several weeks, the parlor had been doing all right. Not making a fortune, but it was in the black, thanks to the business Jasmina brought in. Her friends then told their friends about Dante. Every day more young women strolled in to get themselves inked or pierced and to drool over him.
Lauren’s palms were sweaty. She recalled the evening she’d told Dante he couldn’t date or flirt with the customers. It seemed a lifetime ago. Even though she knew he and she would never be more than friends, she hadn’t worried about him screwing around with clients while he was involved with her. Dante wasn’t that kind of man.
She wiped her palms on her skirt and considered telling him about Thursday’s interview and this guy’s interest in Wicked Brand. If anything, she should have been pulling a Tom Cruise, jumping on the sofas in front, shouting that things were finally turning around.
Her tension mounted, her earlier excitement turning to dread she didn’t want to explore. She attached the prospectus to her reply email, along with several newer photos showing Van Gogh’s incredible work. Her message praised him and Jasmina for their outstanding contributions to the parlor. At last, she mentioned Dante, gushing about him the most. How his business smarts and local contacts made the operation run smoothly. She would have added more but didn’t know much about his past, what had brought him here.
Although she was tempted to google his name, she didn’t. It seemed sneaky. Something she’d do if she didn’t trust him. And she did.
With a final exhale, she sent the message on its way and brooded.
A sharp rap hit her door.
She jumped.
Dante pushed the door in and strode to her desk.
Lauren panicked, worried he knew about her emails, though she knew that was nuts. She hoped he’d haul her into his arms and kiss her. Maybe spank her. She wanted some action from him badly.
Noise from clients and a Spanish singer belting her guts out filled the parlor.
He spoke softly. “Are you busy tonight?”
She wasn’t certain what he was asking: whether she had plans to do something or if she had a guy on the side. Dante couldn’t think that, but maybe he did given her stupid behavior. Prior to her having been so mean, then going AWOL on him, he would have come in here, taken what he wanted, then told her they’d be doing something wicked after work while refusing to offer details. She missed that so much her chest hurt. “No. I’m free. Why?”
“I want to show you something.”
“Another level? There’s more?”
He laughed quietly. “You’ll see. After we finish here, all right?”
“I’m sorry.” She took his hand. “I shouldn’t have attacked you like I did.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. Forgive me, please.” She kissed his fingertips.
Dante cradled her face with his free hand. “I already have.”
He was too good a man. She’d acted like a jerk and now was keeping stuff from him. As much as she wanted to tell him about her interview and the potential buyer, she couldn’t bring herself to do so. It was too tentative, not to mention sad if it worked out. If she sold the business or got a job, she wouldn’t be able to see him whenever she wanted as she could now. They might meet infrequently for coffee or dinner, but that would probably be it. Their friendship would drift away. He’d move on. She’d have to.
“Thanks.” She fought back tears and sorrow so deep it threatened to consume her. “Should I wear clothes?”
Dante grinned as he had before she’d behaved like a shrewish fool. “At least until we get there.” He brushed his lips over hers, left the office, and closed her door without saying more.
Trying to work after that was impossible. She watched Gray’s Anatomy on Yahoo View. Then she checked out another site and got into an original series called The Next Step about teenage dancers at a Canadian studio. The lead girls were blond and beautiful. One was a total bitch, the other sweeter than Pollyanna. The writing and acting were awful, but the drama sucked her in, reminding Lauren of her high school days and the snotty girls there.
A silly-sweet teenage romance was brewing between one of the girls and a male dancer.
Rapid-fire knocks hit her door.
She jumped. “What?”
“I’m leaving now.” Jasmina drummed her nails against the wood. “Have a good night.”
“Thanks. You, too.”
Van Gogh’s listless footfalls neared. He sighed loudly. “Night.”
“Night.” Even though he couldn’t see her, Lauren offered a smile.
Her heart raced with anticipation for what Dante had planned. She couldn’t fathom how it would be better than their night in the park and the carousel. That had been wicked good.
A few minutes later, Dante opened her door. “Ready?”
For anything, except not hearing him say that again. Sad, she knew. But they both had real lives to get back to, although she didn’t want to think about that right now. “Absolutely.”
She drove, since Dante had walked to work. He didn’t rest his hand on her thigh or play with her intimately as he had when they’d been in his pickup. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. It was difficult to breathe. Her heart wouldn’t stop pounding. She ached so much for his touch, she could barely concentrate on her driving.
He pointed. “See that light?”
It was red. “Don’t worry. I’ll stop.”
He smiled. “Turn left there.”
After she did, he directed her past several streets. She was so busy following his directions that it took her a moment to notice they were in a residential area with spectacular homes, most probably worth a million or more even in the depressed market. She slowed her car to a crawl and took in as much as she could. “What is this place?”
“A housing development. Go up two more blocks. After the stop sign, turn right, then pull into the first driveway.”
She did. The house, or rather mansion, was Spanish style, possibly five thousand square feet, with white walls and a red tile roof. Lush vegetation surrounded it. Palm fronds, flowers, and bushes swayed in the breeze. Its arched front door had lacy ironwork embedded in the glass. There were two double garages for four vehicles.
Dante exited her car.
Lauren got out before he could come around to her door. It was incredibly quiet here, even more so than the park had been. The wealth was obvious. Dante took her hand. Her pulse leaped. Effortlessly, she curled her fingers around his, grateful they were touching at last.
He led her to the front door. She expected him to ring the bell. Maybe they were going to a party that was taking place in back. The front was dark except for the porch and landscaping lights.
No other cars were nearby.
He pulled out his keys.
She wasn’t certain what he planned to do with them, except the obvious. “You have a key to this place?”
“Yep.” He opened the door, punched in a code on the alarm, and turned on the lights.
The foyer had a tan marble floor streaked with white, ecru walls, and a massive crystal chandelier with countless bulbs he hadn’t flicked on. To the left was a spacious living room. It boasted a milky marble fireplace, beige leather sofas and chairs, a wrought iron and glass cocktail table, sumptuous wall hangings, and windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, the spotless panes draped in raw silk curtains.
She’d never been in a place as spectacular as this. “Are you a real estate agent in your spare time? Are you selling this place?”
He flicked another switch. A zillion lights rained down from the chandelier. “I’ve already sold it.”
Lauren turned a slow circle, eager to explore. Her first impression had been a sea of tan and white. Rose and gold added to those neutral colors. The interior design was impeccable, the way it would be if this were the setting for a television show. Possibly a reality series about millionaires. “Your commission must have been un-freaking-believable.”
“I didn’t get one.” He laced his fingers through hers.
“You’re still waiting for it? The broker stiffed you?”
Dante regarded the house with indifference. “This used to be my place. Owned it free and clear. Had more money than I knew what to do with.”
He caught her so off guard, she couldn’t think for a moment. Early on, she’d considered he might have money since it didn’t mean anything to him, but that was more fantasy than reality on her part. Uncertain how to react, she squeezed his hand sympathetically. “What happened? Did you lose it in the recession? Your stocks tanked? You lost your job?”
He shook his head. “I decided to face reality.”
…
Lauren’s face flushed.
Dante hadn’t meant to be mean by reminding her what she’d said to him days ago. He simply needed honesty between them. “It’s all right. I know you weren’t trying to hurt me.”
“I did, though.”
More than she could have imagined. Even though she’d been dead wrong about him, her words had stung. He’d tried to let it pass. With anyone else, he would have, not caring what that person thought.
He couldn’t do that with Lauren. Not only did he want her respect, he couldn’t deny her importance to him. This last week had been god-awful. He’d wondered if what they’d found in each other was already over because she couldn’t see past meaningless stuff to who he really was. He could have argued his case—he was fucking good at that—but he hadn’t wanted to convince her. He needed her to accept him as he was, as he had with her.
His hope for that kept fading until she’d worn a skirt again. It was nuts for him to put any credence in a woman’s fashion choice, but Lauren’s small gesture meant more to him than an apology ever could.
“You didn’t know about me.” He glanced at the house, a reminder of his old life. “You didn’t know about this.”
“I still don’t. Will you tell me? I want us to talk. I’ve missed that so much these last days that I felt like I was dying.”
Her confession stirred something deep within him that he couldn’t fight. “Me, too. Are you hungry?”
She looked puzzled at his change in subject. “Ah…”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He locked the front door and captured her hand to lead her to the kitchen.
She held back. “If you don’t own this place anymore, how come you have a key?”
“I sold it to Scott, a friend of mine. He travels for his job. Lets me use the place whenever he’s gone.”
That didn’t get her to budge. “You come here often?”
“Are you asking do I miss it?”
“Yeah.” She took in what she could, awe in her eyes. “Who wouldn’t?”
“It’s not what I want anymore. The last time I was here was almost a year ago. Scott’s girlfriend threw him a surprise birthday party. Damnedest thing, they broke up that night.”
“Wow, bummer. Did you guys work together at one time?”
It had been so long since he had talked about himself and what had happened, he felt the old reluctance creeping back. “No.” He pulled Lauren down the hall toward the kitchen. “He was an attorney on the other side.”
She stared at the monstrous flat-screen as they passed the TV room. Beyond the windowed wall, the Intracoastal Waterway sparkled. “Other side of what?”
“He was opposing counsel during my last case.”
She stopped again.
Dante pulled her forward. At this pace, they’d never reach the food. “There should be steaks in the freezer. Probably a lot of other stuff in the fridge. Scott likes to eat. Don’t worry, he won’t be back until tomorrow morning.”
“Wait. You’re an attorney?”
“Was.”
She gasped. “You were disbarred?”
He stopped and frowned. “No.”
“Hey, hey, hey. Don’t blame me if I jump to the wrong conclusion after your cryptic comments. You keep making me guess. Don’t you ever spit things out like the rest of us?”
Not since he became an attorney. Sharing as little information as possible was so ingrained in him, Dante hadn’t realized he was still in lawyer mode. “I quit my job as lead counsel for one of the largest civil litigation firms in Palm Beach. My department handled product liability. Most of the time I was able to get out-of-court settlements. When I went to trial, I always won. I was fucking good at what I did. Too good.”
They’d reached the kitchen. Its square footage was just a shade less than the building that housed Wicked Brand. Dante turned on recessed bulbs in the ceiling and a wrought iron chandelier. Its amber shades glowed softly above the mahogany island in the center. Wood cabinets, copper utensils, and black granite counters provided a masculine feel.
Lauren regarded the refrigerator. It had an engraved wooden door. “What do you mean you were too good? How is that possible?”
“I won when I shouldn’t have.” He pulled china and a silver serving tray from the cabinets and handed them to her.
She examined the pieces. “Are these yours, too?”
“Yep. Sold everything except my clothes and pickup.”
She put the plates and tray on the island and joined him at the refrigerator.
He held up two frozen rib eyes. “These look good.”
“I’ll have to take your word on it. I haven’t had steak in months.”
“That’s right. Thank God there’s no peanut butter and jelly here.”
She slapped his arm.
He put on a show and moaned loudly. “Hey. That fucking hurt.”
“Did not.” Lauren kissed his tat. “Better?”
She had no idea. Her warm lips were a balm for his lust and longing. “Maybe.” After pulling out a third rib eye, he put the meat on a plate and ran cool water over it.
Lauren wrinkled her nose. “Are they dirty?”
He laughed. If he had to guess, he’d say she’d never cooked unprocessed food. “No. The water helps them thaw.”
“Neat idea. Why shouldn’t you have won? You said that earlier. It doesn’t make sense. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay. I can see how much this hurts you.”
Dante hadn’t realized his feelings were still that raw or obvious. “I need to get the grill ready. I’ll tell you everything while I do.”
“You don’t have to if you don’t want.” She touched his cheek. “Whatever happened, you made the right choice as long as it made you happy.”
Her approval was such a gift, he pulled her close.
She hugged him without restraint and stroked his back, the way someone did when they meant to console.
He pressed his cheek to hers. “I want to tell you. Come on.”
She followed him out the sliding back door that led to the patio. He strode to the bricked-in grill.
Lauren wandered to the pool. Only a small wall separated it from the waterway. Stars dusted the sky, adding their sparkling light to the heavy moon. Smudged clouds muted its brightness. Warm, humid air drifted past and ruffled vegetation, delivering its scent and a pleasant fragrance from the water.
She couldn’t have looked more amazed and pleased.
He’d felt the same when he’d first toured this place and had known he could easily afford it. A hell of an accomplishment for a Cuban boy who’d grown up in Little Havana in a financially strapped family.
Lauren must have caught something on his face. Hers flooded with quick embarrassment.
“It’s all right.” He hadn’t brought her here to feel shame or regret. “The place is beautiful. Nothing can ever change that.”
“What happened?”
“Before I tell you, I have a request.”
“I won’t judge.”
He knew that now. Being with her again was so fucking comfortable, he couldn’t control his mischievous side. “That’s not my request. Actually, it’s a demand. Show me yours, and I’ll show you mine.”
Lauren’s attention flew to the neighbors’ yards, hidden by tall stone fences and vegetation, then to the waterway, and finally to the landscape lights. The illumination was hardly enough to expose the area to prying eyes from passing boats. There weren’t any at the moment and probably wouldn’t be at this hour. Whether that or desire stoked Lauren’s courage, she pulled down her skirt and stepped out of it.
Dante grinned at her naked tummy and curls. “You didn’t wear panties.”
“You told me not to.”
That he had. “I said as much about your bra, too.”
“I won’t have it on for long.”
She ditched her remaining clothes and toed off her sandals. In the yellowish light, her pale skin took on a golden hue, except for her rosy nipples. Her areolas were tight as hell, the tips rigid.
His hunger for her kicked in big-time.
Lauren dragged a deck chair to the grill, turned it away from the waterway to face him, and sank down to its plump cushions. She parted her legs widely and folded her arms over her head to display her breasts. “There. I’m showing you mine. Please show me yours.”
His smile died, taking his lust with it. He pulled a bag of mesquite chips from a drawer beneath the grill, mixed the chips and water in a large aluminum bowl, and stirred the concoction with his hand. “When I first started law, I had no illusions about making the world a better place. I can’t remember a time when my parents didn’t struggle to feed all of us. I didn’t want that for myself, them, or any of my brothers and sisters.”
He faced her. “I wanted money. Hell, I worshipped it. Well before I passed the bar, I knew product liability was the way to go as long as I was on the corporate side. I was as greedy as they come.”
Lauren lowered her arms. “I don’t believe that. You were tired of struggling. Who wouldn’t be?”
“I could have been a better man. I knew exactly what I was doing when I twisted the law in favor of the businesses I fought for. Don’t get me wrong; I never did anything illegal. I simply pushed the envelope. For a lot of the plaintiffs, that made sense. Everyone knew they were trying to stiff the companies. The bigger the business, the better the payoff. To the ones suing, a suit was their way of getting rich. I was simply keeping them from fucking others who’d worked for their money. Soon, I looked at all plantiffs that way, even if they had legitimate complaints.”
His belly cramped at how judgmental and arrogant he’d been. “I got to the point where the truth didn’t matter anymore. I dragged everyone through endless depositions, delayed their day in court as much as I could, wearing them down until they were willing to settle for practically nothing and were grateful to be getting that. At the time, I told myself it was all right because I wanted to pay off my parents’ mortage, send my brothers and sisters to college, buy this place. If not for my last case, I’d probably still be doing it.”
Lauren clasped her hands and leaned forward, listening, not judging.
Dante wasn’t certain he deserved her support. Until now, he’d been fairly certain he’d forgiven himself, yet the shame edged close again, making him physically ill. Meeting her gaze was the hardest thing he’d ever done. If she found him wanting in any way…if she thought less of him because of what he was about to confess…
Too late now to go back. She deserved to know the kind of man he’d been. He cleared his throat, prepared to lay out everything. “On my last case, a toy manufacturer retained the firm to fight a class-action suit filed by a group of parents. Their children were injured by a tricycle the company sold. Two kids died.”
Lauren’s eyes widened.
Dante should have stopped there but couldn’t. He wanted her to know. “The kids had been riding the trikes without direct parental supervision, meaning the kids were with their siblings rather than an adult at all times. Even if the parents were around, they were busy with other stuff, barbecuing, doing yard work, you name it. Just like countless other people every day. But that’s what I honed in on. The fact that the parents hadn’t watched their kids every minute they were on the trikes. Not that it would have mattered if they had.”
He leaned against the grill and took a deep breath. “The turn radius on the trikes was off, which made them tip over if the kid got a little rambunctious. What child doesn’t? One little girl went over the handlebars and landed on her head. She died of brain injuries on the way to the hospital. A boy fell sideways. He was near a curb and injured his spine. He won’t walk again. He’d just turned three. The trike was a birthday present.”
Lauren pressed her hand to her mouth.
“Do you need me to stop?” He didn’t want to cause her pain and hated himself for not having considered that. “I will. I don’t have to tell you this.”
“Please. I want to hear everything.”
He fought his guilt in order to continue. His mouth was so dry he could barely speak. “The company knew there were problems and could have fixed them easily, but they counted on nothing more than a few scraped knees and elbows, even though their engineers had warned them it could be worse. They refused to budge because it would have cost them a few pennies in profit. I knew that, yet I still fought for them.
“I argued that it was the parents’ responsibility to rein in their kids and see that they used the trike properly. They should have insisted their children wear headgear. Everything in life carries risk. You can’t put a company out of business just because a few kids get hurt because the parents were too lazy to supervise. The jurors believed my argument more than they did Scott’s and refused to award anything to the parents. These were people who didn’t have a lot to begin with; many were minorities or immigrants struggling to pay their child’s medical bills. I shouldn’t have won. It was wrong. I knew it at the time, but I wanted this.”
He gestured to the house and backyard.
Lauren didn’t comment.
He dropped his arm and risked looking at her, afraid she’d have nothing to give him except disdain.
Tears sparkled in her eyes. Not for him, he didn’t deserve such kindness. She empathized with the families and kids.
“I tried to live with myself after that…” His words caught. He pressed on. “I couldn’t. It ate at me. Finally, I left the firm and sold this place to Scott. I set up trusts for Eduardo, the toddler who was paralyzed, and two other kids who needed prolonged medical care. I liquidated everything that was left and gave it to my family.” He laughed sadly. “They’re a lot like you when it comes to money. They didn’t want any from me, either. Said I had nothing to be ashamed of.” He couldn’t begin to make amends for what he’d done. “I begged them to keep it so they wouldn’t have to worry about making ends meet. Money doesn’t mean anything to me anymore. I don’t want it. There, that’s my story. I’ve shown everything to you.”
Lauren rushed from her chair. She slipped her arms around his torso and rested her head against his chest.
…
“I’m so sorry.” No apology could convey how awful she felt. She shouldn’t have talked to him as she had that day at the parlor. If she’d only known about this.
Not that it would have made things better. She had no right to judge, period. Dante never had when it came to her. She was so fucking imperfect, it was laughable. Yet he’d done nothing except be her friend and lover. He’d continually tried to help. She couldn’t believe he’d forgiven her careless words. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t known. She was wrong to have placed her own insecurities on him.
“Hey.” He eased back and stared. “What’s this?” He touched her damp cheek.
She hadn’t meant to cry and suddenly couldn’t seem to stop.
“Oh shit, I’m sorry.” He brushed her tears away. “I shouldn’t have told you.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“But you’re crying. Don’t, please. Everything’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I was such a bitch to you.”
“You were having a bad day.”
She blubbered another apology and pressed her face to his throat, kissing it and his cheek. His bristly skin was so damn masculine… He was such a good, decent man… She lost control and yanked up his tee.
“Lauren?”
The damn shirt wouldn’t go past his shoulders and over his head.
“Hey. Slow down, baby.”
She loved that endearment but couldn’t stop. She’d been without him for too many days and needed his strength and warmth. Frustrated by his tee, she unbuttoned his jeans and yanked down the fly.
Dante pulled off his shirt, pitched it, and grabbed her hands. “I’ll get it.”
She’d hooked her thumbs beneath the waistbands of his jeans and stretchy boxers. “No. You’re not moving fast enough.”
“I will if you let go. Let me do this.” He chuckled. “You might hurt me.”
She released him and covered her mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“I know. It’s no problem, all right?” He shoved off his clothes and kicked them aside.
Lauren flew into his arms.
Dante staggered back.
She followed and pushed her fingers through his hair, using it to keep him to her. She captured his mouth and plunged her tongue inside.
He froze, then cupped her ass and pulled her into his gargantuan erection. He was fucking hard, freaking silky, and incredibly hot.
They went wild, battling to control the kiss.
Dante won and pushed her tongue aside. He angled his head for greater penetration.
Lauren surrendered eagerly. She stroked his broad back, down his torso to his ass, the furrow between his cheeks.
He pushed to his toes. She shot up with him. Together, they sank to their heels and made sounds that were sloppy, joyous, and hard-core.
Dante broke free first and pointed at her. “Don’t move.” He edged back. “I mean it.”
Panting, Lauren padded closer, ready for a fucking lot more.
He grinned, then sobered. “Stay.” He dug in his jeans pocket and pulled out a condom.
She waved her hands. “Not yet.”
“Not what?”
“That’s our entrée. I want an appetizer first.” She trotted to the chaise lounge.
Dante caught up and grabbed her wrist. “What are you doing?”
“Getting one of the cushions to put on the patio so we can lie on it.” Lauren snuggled into him, her mouth on his throat. “We’re going to eat each other. You know, sixty-nine, double oral sex, going down on each other, doing the—”
“No need to draw me a picture. I’m on board.” He released her wrist. “But I’ll set it up.”
“It’ll go faster if I help.”
“Just give me a sec. Hold this.” He gave her the condom.
She tossed it over her shoulder.
Dante tapped his foot and breathed hard.
Lauren licked his left nipple, then sucked the tat on his side.
He laughed and squirmed away. “Shit, that tickles. Don’t fucking move.”
“Ever?”
“Only until the boat passes.”
Her heart stalled. She held one arm over her breasts, covered her curls with her free hand, and looked over. The waterway was still empty.
She gave him a frown.
Dante shrugged. “You wouldn’t give me a sec.” He finished untying the cushion and tossed it. The thing landed near her feet. He undid a second one and dropped it next to the first, making a reasonable bed for them.
“Go on.” She pointed. “Lie down.”
“Who’s the boss here?” He advanced.
She didn’t budge. “Me. If you don’t do as I say, you won’t get my mouth on this.” She played with his equipment, stroking his cock, caressing his balls. “Sure you want that?”
Like a good boy and a sex-starved man, Dante sank to the cushions but tied the corners together first to make certain they wouldn’t pull away from each other once the action started. Done, he plopped on his back, spread his legs, and shamelessly flaunted his stuff. “Don’t make me wait.”
Lauren held her hands behind herself and strutted around the cushions, taking him in as he’d done with her their first night in his workstation.
Dante twisted to follow her. His cock grew harder by the second. That baby was so erect, it lay on his belly, the crown pointing at his other head.
He punched his fist against the cushion. “You’re so going to pay for this.”
“Promises, promises.”
He reached for her.
She danced away.
“Fine. I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.” He grabbed his rod and stroked fast and hard.
Lauren fell to her knees and slapped his hand away. “That’s my job.”
“Then do it.”
Smiling, she turned to his feet, straddled him, and positioned herself until her folds were above his mouth and her lips were a breath away from his balls and cock.
He flexed his rod. “I hope you like meat.”
Lauren laughed and settled in, wanting to relish the moment. She indulged in his wonderful scent and licked his full length.
He moaned loudly.
Not letting that sway her, she swirled her tongue over his crown, tasty as ever, warm and silky. Her heart skipped several beats.
Dante brought up his legs so fast, his hairy thighs bumped her shoulders. Offering no apology, he gripped Lauren’s hips, pulled her down, and licked her slit.
A wave of pleasure and an urge to be filled built between her legs, both feelings too wondrous to deny. She shivered.
Dante separated her cheeks, ran his fingers down her furrow, and probed her anus.
Its sensitivity nearly knocked her down. Drowning in delight, she forgot to lap his shaft.
He sucked her clit.
Everything spun. She gripped his thigh, but it didn’t help settle things.
Dante licked her nub and worked his finger into her anus, taking control.
She couldn’t allow that. This belonged to them both. With a ton of willpower, she fought the depraved feelings rolling through her and concentrated on the job at hand. She licked Dante’s crown as she would Jasmina’s Dove Bars or Fudgsicles, enjoying his flavor far more. After lapping the veins on his shaft, she flicked her tongue over his balls.
He stiffened and suckled her again.
Although hungry for air, Lauren ignored her needs and tended to him. Soon, they were sweating and swearing, trying to outdo each other in their carnal competition.
“Shit.” Dante writhed. “I can’t fucking take it.”
“Good.”
He turned her around and pushed her on her back.
“Hey!”
He ignored her shout. “I have to be inside you.”
“You were.”
“Your pussy, not your mouth.” He looked around for the condom.
Lauren rolled over, reached it first, and pushed to her knees. “I’ll put it on you.”
His face scrunched in what she guessed was real pain.
“Are you hurting?”
“What do you think?” He gestured to his cock, the skin so stretched it was red and shiny.
“I swear I’ll hurry.” She tugged on the foil wrapper. It wouldn’t open. “Damn.”
“Give it to me.”
She pushed his hand away and used her teeth to tear the packet open.
Dante shoved his fingers through his hair.
Tenderness and lust coursed through her. “I’m here to serve you.”
“Whatever you want, babe. Just make it fast.”
She giggled and cradled his cock.
…
Dante was ripe for this, not to mention needy. His boys plumped to near bursting. His rod was rigid enough to deliver some serious pleasure. “Hurry. Please. I’ll beg if that speeds things up.”
“You don’t have to do that.” Lauren stroked his length.
He shuddered.
She ran her fingers over his crown.
He held back a scream.
Her lips brushed his. “You all right?”
“Fuck no. Put the rubber on me, or I will.”
She shoved his hand aside and kissed his belly.
He spoke through his teeth, “Lauren.”
She explored the tiny fissure in his crown, the pre-cum seeping out.
In another second, he’d surely lose it. “I. Am. Going. To. Come.”
“Sorry.” She licked the moisture away, ignored his muttered oath, and eased the rubber down his length.
He hadn’t hoped to last this long without coming. In a flash, he had Lauren on her back, his hand trapping both her wrists. “You move, you say anything, and you don’t get this.” He ran his crown down her slick cleft.
She wrapped her legs around his hips.
“Didn’t I tell you to keep still?”
“Sí, por supuesto.”
“What?”
She repeated the phrase. Yessir, in Spanish.
Dante sat back on his heels, impressed with her knowledge and pronunciation. Almost perfect. “Since when do you know my language?”
“I looked it up on the internet.”
God love her. She hadn’t holed up in the office merely to look for jobs or to sell the place…to take herself away from him. The reminder that she’d leave someday, possibly soon, hit him like a punch to his gut. He couldn’t move or breathe.
Lauren loosened her hold with her thighs and calves. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He didn’t want to talk now or face the brutal truth about her eventual departure. He entered her in one thrust, needing to be as close as possible for as long as he could.
She lifted her hips, welcoming him into her sheath.
Dante accepted her invitation, as he always would, and pumped slowly, each thrust prolonged, her inner heat breathtaking.
They gazed at each other, smiled at times, and grew solemn again, the moment unbelievably sacred for him. He drowned in her softness and warmth, the woman she was, the person he needed.
He longed for these moments to last even as he feared they wouldn’t.