Say Yes (Something More) (22 page)

I cock one hand on my hip. “Your phone broke?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs again and takes one hand off the towel, giving me a glimpse of that sensual trail of hair leading from his pelvis to his navel. “I thought you were with—”

I hold out a silencing hand. “You thought I went back to Jackson. I’ve heard.”

And with that, I turn on my heel and navigate through a throng of relatives toward the door, not just because I’m pissed, but because I’m horny, and horny and pissed is not a good combination.

Behind me Tia is saying, “Where is she going?”

As I slam the door behind me, Andrés’s voice booms. “Christina, wait!”

I’m stomping down the tile steps toward the gravel driveway when Andrés comes barreling out the door.

“Christina!”  

The damn fool is dripping water all over the tile, and he’s not wearing any shoes. It must be fifty degrees outside with wind chill. Okay, maybe not cold to some people, but that’s bare-ass cold in my part of Texas.

I spin on my heel and march up to him. I whip off my jacket—his jacket—and slap it in his palm. “Here. You look cold.”

He mumbles his thanks and slips it on. He opens his mouth to speak, and I glare up at him and jam a finger in his chest.

“How could you think after all we’ve shared I would go back to Jackson?” I poke him hard, not even caring when he winces. “You completely shut me out and then go screw sluts d in Mexico!” Damn him for putting me through all this heartache. “You know, I was starting to think I was wrong, that I could have a family with you, but it turns out you’re no better than the other assholes who’ve treated me like a doormat.”

I turn to walk away, not just because I don’t have the patience to listen to his excuses, but I’m getting all choked up. I try to convince myself these are angry tears, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t want him to see me cry. 

He lunges forward, latching onto my arm. “Christina, listen,” he pleads. “I didn’t have sex with anyone in Mexico.”

I jerk away from him. “I saw the slut in your Facebook photo.”

He shakes his head. “That was my cousin, Marie. You’ve met her before, remember? She’s staying here this weekend. You can talk to her if you don’t believe me. All I did in Mexico was get wasted and try to forget you.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better? You have no idea how much you hurt me this week, Andrés.”

He splays his palms in an apologetic gesture. I don’t know why, but I’m expecting him to fall down on one knee and beg my forgiveness.

“I’m sorry, mija,” he says, “but you hurt me, too.”

I gasp and take a step back, and then another. Then I turn on my heel and run, and I don’t stop until I get to my car. I think I hear him chasing after me, but I know he can’t run as fast without shoes. I jump into my car and drive the hell out of there.

I’m crying as I peel onto the dirt road leading back to the highway. I’m crying as I drive the long road back to my apartment. And I’m crying as I pour bubbles into my bath water and then heave my tired and sore body into the tub.

 The thing is, I’ve cried for so many days for so long, I don’t remember why I’m crying anymore, but some little voice inside me tells me I deserve to be unhappy after the way I’ve treated Andrés.

Chapter Twenty-One

Christina

I hear someone open the front door to my apartment. I suspect Andrés kept his key. I sink into the tub and close my eyes, pretending I don’t hear him knocking on the other side of the door.

“Mija,” he calls, “please let me in.”

I don’t answer, mainly because I don’t know what to say. My mind is a muddled mess of emotions. I know I hurt Andrés by spending time with Jackson, but then there’s the fact I refused to consider ever having Andrés’s children. But I’m still crushed by the way he walked out on me.

“Come on,” he begs. “I’m freezing out here.”

What the hell? Didn’t he change his clothes before he came over? I heave myself out of the tub, wrap myself in a towel, and stomp over to the door. When I look up at my ex-boyfriend, my heart does a little flip, and for a second I feel sorry for him because of the sad puppy dog eyes. Stupid heart. It’s caused me nothing but trouble these past few weeks.

“Why didn’t you change?” I grumble.

“I had to catch you.” He smiles sheepishly and points down at his feet. “I put on shoes.”

Flip-flops. He’s wearing flip-flops and wet shorts in this weather. I shiver as the draft from the hall chills my flesh. I’d left the heater off all week and forgot to turn it on when I got home. “Come in.” I don’t wait for him to shut the door behind us as I quickly slip back into the tub. I gasp when he follows me into the water.

“Warm,” he smiles and has the nerve to wink. He ducks his head under the bubbles.

I pull my knees up to my chest, but his long legs are still straddling my sides. Damn him!

My breath hitches when he comes back up. His hair’s slicked back and his muscles are glistening beneath the sheen of soap bubbles. My Spanish Adonis.

I shake my head and remind myself he’s not mine anymore.

He reaches into the water, sloshing bubbles everywhere, as he digs for something beneath him. He pulls out a little black pouch and dangles it between us. “I’ve been carrying this around for the past month.” He opens the pouch and drops a ring into his hand.

I gasp when I look at the ring—one solid diamond surrounded by a swirl of emeralds. It’s absolutely beautiful, reminding me of a gemstone flower.  

“The stones are from my grandmother’s wedding ring.” He holds it up between the tips of his fingers. “Look, they match your eyes.”

I don’t say anything as I gape at him. I think about asking him to explain the ring, but I know exactly what it is. It’s the most beautiful engagement ring I’ve ever seen, and he had it made especially for me.

“I’ve been trying to get the nerve to ask you to marry me, but I ruined it by acting like a jealous pendejo.” He sets the pouch on the side of the tub and scoots forward, looking into my eyes with his penetrating, dark gaze. “I don’t deserve to marry you now, but if you give us another chance, I swear to God I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you how much you mean to me.”

I’m so choked up with emotion, I can’t think to answer. After what he’s put me through this week, how can I forgive him? But after what we’ve shared these past six months, how can I not?

And to think, all this time he’s wanted to ask me to marry him. I couldn’t have made it easy on him by running around with Jackson and showing disgust whenever his family mentioned marriage and kids.

“Andrés,” I say. “You had a right to be jealous. Jackson was trying to get me back. I shouldn’t have met with him for dinner.”

“But I know you love Tyler.”  Andrés strokes the side of my face.

I turn to mush at the feel of his caress on my cheek and at his soulful gaze. “I do, but I love you more.” Tears threaten at the thought of never seeing Tyler again, but Jackson gives me no choice.

“I don’t want to force you to choose.” Andrés vehemently shakes his head. “I’ll just learn to deal with it.”

“But I won’t. I can’t stand to be around Jackson.” I shudder at the thought of that man, and then disgust turns to resolve. I can’t believe I allowed him to come between Andrés and me. Even worse, I let my past come between us. “I’m sorry I refused to talk about having kids. I was so scared I’d turn out like my mother.”

“I know you were, but you’re nothing like her.” Andrés’s penetrating gaze intensifies, and I feel as if he’s probing my soul. For once, I’m not afraid of what he will find.

“I realize that, now that I’ve met my
real
mother.” 

Andrés kneels between my legs, and taking both my hands in his, he kisses the tips of my fingers. “Does that mean you’ve changed your mind?”

Watching the sensual way Andrés kisses my fingers makes my insides quiver, and I shift against the tub’s smooth porcelain as my growing desire causes an ache in my center. “I’m not ready for kids now, but one day I think I’d like little sloppy kisses and warm hugs.”

One corner of his mouth hitches up in a devastatingly sexy smirk. “Stinky diapers and runny noses, too?”

“Maybe. If you’re there to help me.”

“I’m never leaving your side again, mija.”

When I see the love reflecting in his eyes, my heart does somersaults in my chest. “Promise?”

Andrés slides next to me and whispers against my ear. “I’m yours. Forever.”  

Our garden tub doesn’t feel as big as I’d once thought. When his leg brushes against mine and his hand comes to rest on my hip, my body reacts to his like warm butter melting over hot pancakes. A moan escapes me as I melt into him.

He pulls my ass against his very, stiff, and very large erection. “I love you,” he breathes into my ear. “Please forgive me.”

I turn in his embrace, and wrap my arms around his neck as his lips come crashing down on mine. I sigh into his mouth, clenching his hair by the roots, as our tongues meld together, stroking each other with fevered frenzy.

 Then I’m straddling him, wanting—no needing—to feel him inside me. “I’ve missed you so much,” I cry against his lips as I come up for air.

Andrés grabs my hips and suspends me just above his navel. “Not here,” he says in between kisses. “I want to take you in bed and make love to you slowly.”

Drying each other off takes twice as long as it should, because we can’t stop kissing and touching each other. My hands are everywhere, on his chest, across his abdomen, stroking his cock. He’s having a heck of a time trying to dry off my legs, and I inwardly smile, knowing I’m making his job difficult. I’m still feeling a bit agitated after my rough week, and I think he deserves a little teasing.

We quickly climb beneath the sheets to escape the cool air. Our bodies are a tangled heap of arms and legs, as we hold each other. Andrés whispers sweet words to me in Spanish, calling me his
amor
, and he tells me he loves me over and over again. His mouth is on my breasts, sucking each nipple, but not with his usual care. I sense a hunger in his touch, and I know he will not be able to make love to me slowly.

He moves his mouth down between my breasts, to my navel and he wastes no time lifting my legs over his head.

I cry out as his tongue swirls over the silky barrier of my desire, licking and sucking my swollen bud before dipping into my channel and spearing me with jarring thrusts. I clench the sheets as he continues to fuck me with his tongue, but when he gently traces my swollen sex with the pad of his thumb, I feel the tide of a powerful orgasm rise up and threaten to overwhelm me.

“Stop!” I cry out. “Please,” I beg.

He looks up at me with a devilish grin. “I can feel you swell beneath my tongue, mija. Don’t you want to come?”

“Not like this.” I reach down and tug on his shoulders. “Come with me.”

Andrés’s smile widens, and I’m reminded of a feral cat stalking his prey as he climbs up my body, never taking his dark gaze off me. He settles his hard body in between my legs and strokes my face before planting a tender kiss on my lips. Then he slides into me, slowly, inch by agonizing inch, until his length fills me. I spread my legs wide and lift them over his shoulders, sighing as he sinks in deeper. He cups my face in his hands, kissing my mouth and jawline, and then he thrusts in and out, filling my swollen channel with torturous ecstasy.

My climax builds again, and I dig my hands into his ass and beg him to fuck me harder.

Andrés responds by growling in my ear and tunneling into me with swifter thrusts.

The orgasm that sweeps over me is so powerful, I feel like I’m soaring as he rides out each current by pressing deep into me. A few more thrusts and I feel his warmth explode inside me. He groans against my neck and then bites softly on my shoulder, holding us both suspended on that cloud of pleasure for several more moments until we collapse in each other’s arms.

He is still hard and full inside me as he holds me in a loving embrace, stroking my back and hair. “I love you, mija. I’ve never stopped loving you,” he says into my ear.

I am overwhelmed with emotion. My chest and throat tightens, and I barely choke out a response. “I love you, Andrés. I will always love you.”

* * *

Despite my overwhelming fatigue, I roll out of bed and answer the phone.

“Christina, did you make it back home okay?” my mom asks.

I rub my face and groan. Shit. I’d forgotten to call her last night. She must have been worried. “Yes, Mom. Sorry I haven’t called yet. Andrés and I made up,” I manage to answer, though my mouth is so parched, it feels like I swallowed a bucket of sand.

Luckily, I smell the scent of roasting coffee and sizzling bacon. Andrés must have gone to the grocery store this morning in swim trunks, flip-flops, and a windbreaker. I’m sure he was quite a sight.  

“Really?” she asks, and I sense something other than surprise in her undertone, maybe worry.

“It was all a misunderstanding.” I laugh, trying my best to quell her fears. “I’ll call you later and tell you all about it. I’m still waking up. He’s making coffee right now.” 

“Sweetheart,” she says as her voice drops to a barely audible whisper. “You left something here.”

“What?”

“A pillbox. I hope you don’t mind, but I checked, and it says you’re two days behind.”

In the distance, I hear Andrés whistling and the beep of the microwave. That’s about all I hear, because I’m pretty sure my heart has stopped beating.

“Christina, are you there?”

I clutch the phone tightly to my ear, squeezing the plastic case so hard, I think it may break. “I-I’m here.”

“I hope you and Andrés have been safe.”

My hands start to shake, and my lips tremble. Um, no, we haven’t been safe. In fact, we were very unsafe all night long. “I need those pills back.”

“Do you want me to bring them to you?”

“No!” I practically scream into the phone. “I’ll come get them. Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Andrés will be with me. Please don’t tell him.”