Filfthy (16 page)

Z
ane

“
R
ue’s house sold
, by the way.” The moon washes over Delilah’s face from the passenger window as we drive back to Laguna Palms Tuesday night with sand in our shoes and leftover remnants of beach-sex orgasms coursing in our veins.

We made love on the beach.

It wasn’t fucking.

It was so much more.

Gone was any hint of dirty talk. She didn’t beg for it, and I didn’t manhandle her like some kind of sex-starved animal. It was slow and sensual, the kind of sex that means something.

The kind of sex I haven’t had since Mirabelle . . .

“We’ll be gone by the end of July,” she adds.

My stomach clenches. “Well, that kind of blows.”

“Kind of?” she elbows me playfully.

“Guess we’ll just have to make the most of the time we have left,” I say. “I say we make a pact.”

“What kind of pact?”

“No fighting. Just sex. And fun.” I turn to her, feeling her stare. Her lips curl at one side. “Let’s make this the kind of summer neither one of us will ever be able to forget.”

“All right. Deal.”

We shake hands, our holds lingering a second too long.

When we pull onto my street, I veer into my driveway out of habit. My body warm and relaxed and my mind drained after spilling my life history earlier, I reach for Delilah’s hand and take a deep breath.

“You want to sleep over tonight?” I ask.

Her knees clench together. “Oh, um. I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to have sex with you, but . . .”

“No,” I say. “I’m not asking for that. I want you to stay with me tonight.”

She turns to me, slowly, brows lifted. “Really?”

“Yeah.” I shrug. “I want you to.”

I shift into park and she grabs her bag, her gaze moving from my house to Rue’s. We climb out, walking around and meeting by the hood.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask.

She bites her lip. “A lot of things.”

Lifting my brows, I will her to elaborate. “Such as?”

Delilah opens her mouth to speak, and then silences herself. “Nothing that needs to be said right now. It’s late. I’m exhausted. You are too.”

I take her hand in mine, pulling her near. “You coming inside or am I going to have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you?”

Her lips inch into a grin before she yawns. “Do what you want with me, de la Cruz. You’ve earned some bonus points tonight.”

“Not sympathy points, I hope.”

“Nope. Just nice guy points.”

My eyes squeeze shut and I stick my tongue out. “Lame.”

“Not lame. Not lame at all.”

Without hesitating, I hoist her over my shoulder, running my hands up the backs of her thighs and slapping her ass. She pounds on my back with clenched fists.

“I thought you were joking about throwing me over your shoulder.” She laughs.

“Nah. I’ve always wanted to do that to someone.” I take her inside, plunking her down on my bed at the end of the hall. Grabbing a t-shirt from my dresser, I toss it to her. “You can sleep naked or in one of my shirts. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

“Host’s choice.” She unzips the back of her dress, letting it fall to the floor as she wears nothing but her bra and panties and a smile.

“I know I said I wasn’t going to fuck you if you stayed the night tonight, but it’s going to be really hard to be a man of my word when you’re standing there, looking like that with those fuck-me lips of yours.”

I loosen my tie and work my buttons at a feverish pace as she unhooks her bra and steps out of her lace panties. I’m hard as a rock already. I guess I underestimated the big guy. He’s still got plenty of life in him tonight.

“Where do you want me?” Her smile is coy, her tits buoyant and peaked.

I study my little sex kitten, trying to decipher the correct arrangement of words to keep that smile planted on her lips and that slick heat between her thighs.

“On your knees,” I say.

She lowers herself, and I get it.

I understand why Delilah Rosewood likes to be treated like anyone
but
Delilah Rosewood in the bedroom. It’s freeing to be someone else.

Life is hard.

Sometimes we need a break.

Sometimes we need to be anyone else but ourselves because it’s the only time we’re free from our self-imposed shackles.

“Come closer. Let me fuck that pretty little mouth of yours,” I growl, and she smiles wider, reaching for my cock and circling the base with her thumb and forefinger.

She brings her tongue to the tip, circling it before she slides the length of it down her throat, pumping the base in tandem, fluid movements.

“God, you give good head,” I groan. My mouth waters just thinking about how good she’s going to taste in a minute. “Get on the bed.”

Delilah pulls me out from between her lips, rises, and perches on the edge of the bed. I lie down in the middle, pulling her over me, her head positioned at my swollen cock and her slick pussy hovering over my mouth.

If this isn’t heaven, I don’t know what is.

D
elilah

“
Y
ou’re
the first fuck buddy I’ve ever had,” I blurt out as I’m washing breakfast dishes in the sink Wednesday morning. I’m standing in nothing but an apron wrapped around my naked body, arms elbow deep in bubbles and dishwater. “And you’ll probably be the last.”

Zane’s right brow inches up. “Why’s that?”

“I can’t imagine doing this with anyone else,” I say. “The no-strings thing. It’s hard. That’s what I was thinking about last night in the driveway – when you asked me.”

“All right. What’s hard about it?” He smirks, glancing down at his package. “Besides the obvious.”

“I don’t know. I guess . . . after last night. I just saw this other side of you. And then we made that pact.” I sigh. “I’m leaving in six weeks, give or take. I mean, is that it? I just say goodbye, hop on a plane, and never see you again? Like is this entire experience disposable to you?”

He circles the island, stepping into my space. His hand lands on the small of my back and he leans down to kiss the top of my head. His heat warms me; his touch sends shivers down my spine.

“You could never be disposable,” he says. “Anytime you’re feeling a little randy, give me a call. I’ll get you on the next flight down here.”

“So the plane only flies in one direction?”

He turns, his back against the island, elbows resting on the marble. “That’s where it gets tricky, you see, because if we’re flying back and forth to see each other, then we’re dipping our toes into long-distance-relationship territory and those things never end well for anybody.”

“I guess I just want to know what I mean to you. And I’m sorry if ‘fuck buddies’ aren’t supposed to sound like needy girlfriends. I promise I’m not that. It’s in my nature to need an explanation for everything.” I rinse the last plate and hand it to him to dry.

He pauses, his expression growing serious as he looks me in the eye. “Jesus, Delilah. Yes. You do mean something to me – in a way no one else ever has.”

My lower lip trembles and I close my eyes. I take a deep breath. This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen.

I didn’t want to get attached.

I didn’t want to fall for him.

I didn’t want to crave those sweet declarations of affection from the one man who had no business doling them out.

“It’s just . . . the flowers, the wine, the romantic evening, and all the nice things you’ve been saying lately . . . it’s like you’re in a constant state of pursuing me.” I drain the sink, eyes locked on his. “And then you tack on that fuck buddy disclaimer every chance you get.”

His face scrunches. “I thought that’s what you wanted? I thought that was what we were doing? Sex and fun? No more fighting?”

My shoulders fall.

“It was. I mean, it is.” I glance away, out the kitchen window that frames his sparkling sapphire pool perfectly. This is what Daphne meant when she said to embrace the complicated, and here I am, running scared in the opposite direction. “Forget I said anything, all right? Sometimes I get too wrapped up in my own thoughts.”

He stands there, quietly staring at me, and my cheeks burn. “You still want to do this?”

I look up into those trademark honey-brown eyes of his and slowly nod, although my true answer might be best described as a mix between “yes” and “no.”

“Are you sure, Delilah? Are you
really
sure? Because I don’t want to hurt you. I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt another person I care about.” There he goes, sending mixed signals again.

“See.” I release an uneasy titter. “There you go, talking like that again.”

“Like what?”

“Saying you care about me and you don’t want to hurt me,” I say. “It makes me think your feelings for me are beyond . . .”

My voice fades and I untie the apron from behind my back. I feel ridiculous, standing here naked, my breasts spilling out of a chef’s apron that has the name “Javier’s Concierge Services” embroidered across the front.

It was cute for a hot minute, but I can’t stand here having this serious talk looking like I’m two seconds from getting nailed for the second time this morning. I need him to hear me, to take me seriously. I need real answers that don’t involve his eyes drifting into dangerous territory every chance they get.

“Delilah.” Zane takes my hands, wrapping them in his and pulling me to face him. “Stop overanalyzing everything to death. Because that’s what you’re doing. You’re
killing
this beautiful arrangement we have here. And goddamn, is it beautiful. Our chemistry . . . the attraction. The fire and ice. It’s perfection.”

“I just want to know if you’re going to miss it when it’s over. When I’m long gone, just some old, faded memory.”

“How could I not?” His hand sweeps across my jaw, and my gaze lands on his deep dimples. “Just. Have. Fun. We don’t have a lot of time left. Let’s not spend it worrying about the future. This is all we have. Right here. Right now. Have fun, Delilah. With me.”

“I’m trying,” I say. “But when you look at me like that and you say nice things, it’s kind of hard to separate and compartmentalize what my mind knows we are and what my body wants us to be, and then I have to factor in how my heart feels.”

“How does your heart feel?”

“Confused as hell.” My face winces.

His hands circle my waist, and he spins me around before lifting me up onto the counter. We’re almost eye to eye now.

For the first time since I’ve met this reformed asshole, I know one thing to be true . . .

I want to be Zane de la Cruz’s girlfriend.

I want to be the only girl he looks at the way he looks at me.

I want to be the only girl he’d even think about fucking.

I want to be the first thing he thinks about when he wakes up and the last thing on his mind before he falls asleep.

And maybe I never should have agreed to this whole fuck buddy thing, but in my defense, I sort of stumbled into it, and I’m pretty sure it would take some kind of superhero strength to resist his charms anyway.

All these feelings eat me alive as I stand here in his presence with him, feeling like a million bucks and a hot mess all at the same time. Looking at him and knowing that six weeks from now, I’ll have to walk away with nothing but a pocketful of memories makes my chest ache and stifles my breath.

Never in my life did I think it was possible to go from hating someone to kind of liking them, to falling for them literally overnight, but all I know is something changed last night and I’m incapable of looking at him through the same lens as before.

“I should get going.” I break the tension with an excuse on the tip of my tongue. “Rue’s going to be home any minute, and I should get cleaned up. She wants to take me out later.”

I fold the apron haphazardly and leave it on the island, walking off to gather my clothes and get the hell out of there before things get any more awkward.

Every part of me is cringing. I said what I said. There’s no going back now. It won’t matter how much I try and convince him that I’m fine with our arrangement, he’s going to remember the things I declared today. In his kitchen. Naked in an apron and smelling like Dawn.

Several minutes later, I’m dressed, my bag hanging from my shoulder as I amble down the hall toward the front door. I’m not sure where he went or why he’s leaving me alone, but in the pit of my stomach, something feels off.

“Zane?” I call out, my hand on the doorknob.

I’m met with silence.

Gulping in a lungful of air, I pull the door open and leave without so much as a goodbye.

Walking away, not knowing where we stand, makes my stomach knot. If it’s this hard now, I can’t imagine it’ll be any easier six weeks from now.

“Delilah.” His voice stops me in my tracks by the time I’m halfway across his driveway.

Turning, my hopes are immediately dashed when I see him holding up my cell phone. I offer a timid smile and stride across the pavement to his outstretched arm.

“Thanks.” I take it and slip it in my purse, turning away.

“Delilah.” He says my name again, and my chest hurts.

“Yes?” I face him, my hand tight around my purse strap.

“You’ll come back again, right?” He squints into the morning sun, shielding his honey eyes with his hand. “This isn’t the end.”

I don’t know if he’s asking or stating some kind of truth. Either way, I nod.

“Sure,” I say, leaving the ball in his court.

“I know you’re busy tonight,” he says, “but what are you doing Friday night?”

I shrug, brows furrowed. “I’m not sure. Why?”

“Clear your weekend for me and pack a bag,” he says, mouth pulled up and dimple showing on one side. I’m not sure how I can say no to
that
. I couldn’t if I tried.

Zane de la Cruz is asking me to go away with him.

“Not sure what you’re trying to pull, de la Cruz,” I say.

“Not pulling anything. Just feel like getting away for a while,” he says. “Don’t you?”

I bite my lip to hide my excitement as I turn and walk away.

Something tells me we’re going to be taking complicated to a whole new level this weekend.