Make Me (9 page)

He leaned back then to look at her in a soaked lace thong, her breasts spilling from the matching bra. “Mystery Girl, you’re so beautiful.”

Rebecca smiled at her nickname as much as the compliment. “Not so much of a mystery anymore.”

He shook his head. “You make me want to know every inch of this gorgeous body. Gonna start with seeing if you taste as good as you look.”

To be tasted by those lips jumped to number one on Rebecca’s bucket list. She watched his tongue make a brief appearance on his bottom lip before he hooked the thin strips on her hips and pulled the thong free from her legs. He took ownership of her thighs with his hands, spreading them wide as he looked directly into her eyes with a wicked smirk playing on his lips. He eased his thumb over her clit, already slippery with her desire for him.

“Nice,” his voice rasped as he dipped into the source.

She sucked in a slow breath when he dropped his lips to the sensitive skin of her inner thigh while circling his thumb in the shallows of her cunt.

“Oh God. Are you teasing me?”

“I’m taking my time. In for a penny, right?” He danced his tongue into the valley where her leg met with her sex and laved the area with the tip. “You smell amazing.”

Her pussy tightened around a missing cock, the need for him to be inside her mounting into something criminal. “Manny…”

He buried his nose and inhaled, the warmth of his breath then saturating her labia and making her moan. One pass of his tongue over her clit and Rebecca was ready to confess to anything. Begging wasn’t out of the question either. He took another sweep over the delicate nib and then dipped his tongue inside her.

“Manny, please.”

“You’re too good to rush things.” He swallowed, and a hoarse humming sound rumbled against her flesh. Then he washed his tongue over her slit, dipping inside once more before making his way to the bud of nerves swelling with each pass.

Her walls contracted again, causing the heavy ache inside her to double in weight. He hollowed his tongue like a spoon, savoring the liquid evidence of how much she needed him. Then his fingers were inside her, offering a measure of relief.

But not enough to keep her from begging. “Fuck me. Oh God, please.”

Rebecca had never been so desperate for a man to make love to her. As a rule, Rebecca was never desperate for anything she couldn’t satisfy on her own. She was a strong, independent woman, not some needy chick who didn’t know how to use a vibrator. But as her pelvis bucked toward him of its own accord, Rebecca saw the flaw in that thinking. How could you know desperation if you’d never glimpsed satisfaction?

Manny spoke against her flesh. “Just this. I’m going to make you come just like this.”

He rocked those two fingers inside again, curling them as they entered. The licks at her clit began a relentless tempo that lingered somewhere between hurried and indolent. She swayed her hips. He pressed her down against the futon, pinning her with his stare as much as with his hand. Through his long, upturned lashes, his gaze branded her.

Rebecca lost it—control, restraint, her defenses. She lost it all to Manny and the magic he made between her thighs.

“Yeah, baby. That’s what I want,” Manny murmured between the sips and kisses on her tender flesh that had her shuddering with orgasm.

His drenched mouth bore a satisfied smile, but how could he know what kind of miracle he’d just performed? Manny was the Holy Grail, the eighth wonder. No one had ever made her come like that. No one had even brought her close.

* * *

She advanced on him like a woman on a mission. Manny clutched her wrist as she latched onto his jeans. He shook his head.

“I told you,” he said. “Bad timing.”

The only two things he was sure about were how much he wanted her and why that was a lost cause. He’d given her pleasure, but none of it would be real until he could give himself to her entirely. And he couldn’t do that yet, not with Kyle lingering in the back of his mind. He hated saying it, hated denying the part of him that felt something for Rebecca. Who would blame her for walking right out into the night and calling him the worst pussy tease in history? Was there such a thing? If anyone needed a reference, see Manny Tescadero.

He was already in way deeper than he’d planned. He’d broken his own rules. And now what? Wanting both of them at the same time was just wrong. He wouldn’t do that to her. Tonight had only been a pressure release, just enough to make sure neither of them exploded out of lust. It wouldn’t happen again. Or at least that was what he kept telling himself.

She dipped her eyes, weary with the shift in the air. “You’re not going to apologize, I hope.”

His heart ached. What the hell was he doing fucking with her head like this? What was he doing fucking with his own? He leaned into her. Fuck no. He wasn’t sorry about the taste of heaven she’d given him. He was only sorry his appetite needed curbing, for her sake and for his.

“No. I’m not going to apologize for something that makes you feel good.” But as he pulled away, her delicate features twisted in a subtle struggle not to be read. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Clearly it was too late. Her voice was quiet. “You’re still in love, aren’t you?”

That made him pause. Was he in love with Kyle? Hell, he loved the guy. Would have died for him and almost did. But was he in love? It was something he couldn’t or wouldn’t admit. Still, there was no use in denying it either. Talking about the current situation with Kyle was almost as bad as living it.

“I don’t know,” he said at last.

Rebecca pulled the sheet around her and sat up, the movement of fluid grace under shitty circumstances. “You need a friend. I can be that for you.” She touched his hand, brushing her fingers over the knuckles, shrapnel scars and all. “As amazing as that was, I like you, and if all you want is to be friends right now, I can handle that.”

He grimaced at how the whole thing sounded. Talk about role reversal. But friends sounded like a safe bet. What if Kyle meant what he had said about wanting to be with him? All signs blared:
stop, proceed with caution
. This whole thing was a slippery ride to heartbreakville. But damn if he didn’t want to hear her call his name again.

He scrubbed the back of his head. “We can try that.”

“Friends with benefits?” she ventured with a grin that didn’t fool him one bit.

He cupped her cheek. “As long as those benefits flow one way for the next three weeks.”

“Your promise…”

“I make every attempt to be a man of my word.”

“I guess I wouldn’t expect anything less from a Marine.”

He tried on a smile. “Don’t hold it against me.”

Chapter Six

Monday morning arrived once again, as planned, without the warm welcome it never got. Rebecca hadn’t counted herself among the Monday-haters before. But on this day, she fully expected to be booted out of her dream job and into something that promised to be just a step above begging. Fundraising wasn’t her gift. She could barely stand talking to people she didn’t know, let alone ask them for money. Truth was she hated asking anyone for anything. With the covers back over her head, she resolved to slither out of bed at the very last minute possible.

Only the bed was empty and had been since she climbed into it in the wee hours of the morning. Do bummers come in twos? No, they come in threes. The cramps in her lower belly confirmed it.

Around seven, Rebecca emerged from Manny’s bedroom, thankful for the one bit of good luck that resulted in the extra period provisions in her purse. God knows what Manny had done with her unmentionables, like her tampons or her secret collection of erotic reproductions she kept with the lingerie she cherished but rarely ever wore. The thought of him pawing through that stuff made her cringe. But the thought of Manny in general made her think of things hot and sticky, like hot sticky buns from Petite Fours and the hot sticky way he had left her last night.

He was already dressed and bent over his coffee table, speed reading through the newspaper. Darn it. She’d missed half-naked morning Manny. It was probably for the best, though. Any more of looking at what she couldn’t have and Rebecca might just scream.

On the TV, Olivia Hunter approved this message. Manny cursed softly and changed the channel.

Rebecca cleared her throat, drawing his attention. “Morning.”

He turned to her with a smile. “Hey, how did you sleep?”

Like a cat in heat with an itch that didn’t get scratched.
“Good, thanks. You?”

He scraped his bottom lip with those brilliantly white teeth. Why did he have to do that? It made her mouth water when he drew attention to his lips. “I’ve had better nights’ sleep.”

She nodded. Yes, she supposed he had.

“Not a fan of the congresswoman, I see.” Rebecca pointed to the TV, which displayed yet another political ad on a different channel. Like locusts they seemed to have invaded the airways.

“Olivia? I’m supposed to attend her fundraiser party thing on Saturday.” He turned the channel again. “She’s not so bad when you get to know her.”

“You know Olivia Hunter?” Rebecca ran through the series of speeches she might give Olivia Hunter if she had the chance. The speed at which she compiled a list of talking points might scare anyone. “And did you say you’re going to a party for her? Will she be there?”

“I guess so. It’s her party after all.”

“Manny, don’t be a smartass.” She sat down next to him. “If I could meet Olivia Hunter, I might be able to save my job. How do you know her?”

“I’m friends with her son.” He’d stopped looking at her, his attention drawn back to the newspaper. Then suddenly his gaze returned. “What do you do at the library?”

“I’m an…I mean I
was
an associate curator of special collections.” She sighed. “I love my work. It’s like finding treasure, things people have forgotten that are part of history. I can’t tell you how much of a rush it is to see it all come together for everyone to appreciate. This last project I worked on was cataloguing Broadway scripts from a private collection. Essentially, I was on loan to the Library of Congress…” Rebecca suddenly realized her answer had taken a detour down Rambling Lane.

Manny watched her and, to Rebecca’s surprise, nodded for her to continue.

“Annnndd…there were some really great gems. Did you know that Humphrey Bogart was with a progressive company called Group Theatre and starred in a play on inner-city classism during the 1930s? I found the script and casting notes in a trunk donated by the estate of a wealthy benefactor.” OK, if that didn’t make him yawn, then she might have actually found the perfect man.

“You really do love your job. You should see how your face lights up when you talk about it. Bogart, huh? That’s total history.” He folded the paper and placed it in his messenger bag. “I’ve got to get to work. Tell me how your day went later?”

“Sure, but do I have an invitation to that party? You’ve got room for a plus one, right?”

Manny sighed. “How can I say no to that face?”

Rebecca hugged him tight. “Thank you.” This time she kissed him, fast and hungrier than she intended.

Manny laughed. “You beat me to it that time.”

The way he slipped his arm around her waist, like ownership, had Rebecca melting against him. She blushed. “I’ve been kind of wanting to do that since I woke up.”

He smiled and leaned in again, kissing her with that earth-shattering tenderness that was both all-encompassing and dangerously addictive. “I’ve been wanting to do that since I put you in my bed.”

Since he had put him there away from him
,
Rebecca couldn’t help but remind herself. She watched him gather his keys and wave good-bye at the door, and she couldn’t help but miss him already.

* * *

When Manny saw Willy-the-Wanker waiting for the elevator he was tempted to stop, turn around, and take the stairs. But he decided that would have been overkill.

“Hey there…um…Stanley, right?” Wilson said as Manny approached the elevators.

Manny slipped his earbuds into his ears. Maybe the prick would just stop talking.

“About Becca. Why don’t you let me take her off your hands? I’ve been trying to crack her code for months. Tell her you don’t have enough room or something. Man to man, you know it’s the right thing to do.”

Regretfully, Manny could still hear him and that load of shit just couldn’t go unanswered. “Listen dickhead, stay the fuck away from her.”

“Whoa, caveman, I thought you two just met.” Wilson whipped his phone from the breast pocket of his suit jacket. “I don’t really need your permission, do I?” He held the phone to his ear and waited, giving Manny the stare down. “Hey, Becca. I know it’s early, but I was hoping to catch you before you made any plans for this evening. A buddy owes me a favor over at the Met and I have tickets to the ballet—orchestra seats. Love to have the prettiest girl in Manhattan with me. I’ll be in meetings all day, but I’ll take your call. Give me a shout when you get this message.”

Manny had an overwhelming desire to pin Wilson to the pointy light fixture hung high on the wall above him. He settled for turning up the volume on his music and not getting arrested. What rights did he have over Rebecca Sinclair anyway? Her toothbrush hung next his and she left her birth control pills next to his razor, but they weren’t a couple and he couldn’t give her anything worth a damn at the moment.

He nodded to the music, shooting daggers into the shorter man’s back as they entered the elevator. Once inside, the floor display seemed the best place to look, because if he took one more glance at that weasel’s smug face he didn’t know what might happen.

Manny exited first, taking big strides toward the door. The first thing he saw in the sharp daylight was a white BMW and the tall, blond man it belonged to leaning against the passenger side. His morning had certainly taken a sharp turn south.

Kyle stood up when he spotted Manny coming.