Rock Chick 07 Regret (42 page)

He pulled my legs up at the knees until they were tucked against his sides and he kept slamming into me, one of my arms wrapped around his back, the other hand in his hair.

We weren’t kissing and I heard our noises drifting around us, his low, deep grunts mingled with my softer whimpers. His face was in my neck and he was groaning there, breathing hard. My face was in his neck and I was moaning there, breathing hard and alternately tasting him and even (no kidding!) biting the flesh at his shoulder.

Then, all of a sudden, he stopped moving, his body buried in mine.

“Jesus, fuck, Sadie,” he muttered in my neck. “Fuck,” he repeated, his arms going tight. “Give me a second.”

I was blinking, rapidly, surprised that he stopped and wanting the movement, the pounding, even our noises back.

“For what?” I asked.

His mouth came to my ear and he whispered, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

I closed my eyes and my arms went tight.

“You aren’t hurting me,” I promised, I squeezed him with my thighs (and other parts of me besides) and I heard him make a noise low in his throat. The noise spurred me to coax, “Keep going.”

“Hang on,” Hector murmured, still fighting for control even as he ground deeper (which felt good, good enough for me to remember that I wanted more).

It was my turn to make a low noise in my throat then I repeated, “Keep going.”

“Sadie –” he started but my arm moved, my hand went to his fantastic behind, the fingers of my other hand fisted in his hair. My movements made his head come up and I pressed my lips to his.

“Hector, please,” I whispered, my voice a mixture of begging and demanding, “Please… fuck me.”

I watched his eyes grow dark then his head slanted, his mouth took mine in another wet, hungry kiss and he did as I asked, wild and rough, until, minutes later, almost at the same time, we both exploded.

It was hard and hot and so overpowering, I moaned deep into his mouth as my body convulsed beneath his.

It took what seemed like forever to come down, tremors coursing through me as I concentrated on Hector, his body still pressing into mine, his breathing on my neck, going slowly from heavy
to
soft.

His weight bore down on me and I realized, to my surprise, that after the intensity of what we just shared, I felt even more snugly, warm, safe and comfy than I ever had before when I was with him (which was to say, ever in my life).

And, obviously, that was saying something.

That was, I felt more snugly, warm, safe and comfy until he spoke, his voice deep, husky and utterly satisfied.

“This is who I wanted to find, the girl from that night. I knew she was fuckin’ in there, I just didn’t know I’d have her this soon.”

It felt like he’d shoved an icicle in my heart.

No.

Please.

No.

That was not me.

There were loads of
Sadies
but that wasn’t one of them.

Was it?

A brazen hussy, throwing myself at him and begging him to fuck me?

The Society Slut who went slumming?

Did he think that was me?

Was that what he wanted?

I didn’t want him to want that.

Then it hit me.

The rose on his back which he wanted to put on his arm.

He had the broken heart from
Belinda
to remind him not to let the desires of his body cloud his judgment.

He had the skull to celebrate taking down my father.

Neither of these things were good, loving, comfy, snugly, warm things.

They represented a hard earned lesson and the victory of a hard fought, dangerous battle.

Maybe the rose didn’t mean what I thought it meant.

Or, more accurately, what I wanted to
believe
it to mean.

Maybe the rose represented another challenge.

Maybe I was right weeks ago when he was in my hospital room.

Maybe he was with me to finish the job, the job he started that night in my father’s study and would have finished if I hadn’t walked away from him.

The job of conquering
me
.

That night, I’d walked away from him, disdainful and bitchy, leaving him hard and wanting, and he’d been furious, furious enough to call me a cock tease.

Maybe it was payback time.

Well, he just paid me back. He’d spent a night paying me back.

And that was all he was going to get.

He could have his rose now and he could remember, every time he looked at it, that he won.

I knew he felt my change when his head came up.

He called softly, “Sadie?”

I looked at his throat and even I heard the change in my voice, betraying (damn and blast!) my feelings.

“I need to shower,” I told him, my voice soft but tight.

Hector’s body went tense. “
Mamita
, look at me.”

My eyes moved to his.

His were searching.

I had no idea what mine were.

Then he murmured, “She’s gone.”

Well, that told me what he saw in my eyes.

“I’m right here,” I lied in order to cover. I’d think about this later, maybe when YoYo was lying beside me in bed so I’d have something else to keep my snugly, comfy, warm (if not safe, I didn’t expect a pug could keep me safe).

Then again, I’d kidded myself when I thought Hector wanted to keep me safe.

He was just like everyone else, after something, using me to get what he wanted.

I watched as he shook his head and looked like he was getting annoyed. “You’re gone.”

I tried to soften my features, to make him believe he still had me until I was well away from him and somewhere safe.

“No, I’m not,” I replied.

At my words, he no longer looked like he was getting annoyed, he looked like he was
definitely
annoyed and I guessed my efforts at softening my features didn’t work.

“Don’t lie to me, Sadie.”

Well, now he
sounded
like he was definitely annoyed too.

Then he clipped, “Why?”

Yes, definitely annoyed.

“Why what?”

“Where’d she go and why’d she go?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about.”

I decided it was time to try a stare down.

This failed.

Then I decided to try something new and pushed at his shoulders. “Hector, get off. I have to get to work.”

This failed too.

“You have to fuckin’ talk to me,” he returned.

“About what?” I asked, fear and desperation making my tone short and clipped.

Hector stared at me then he muttered, “God damn it,” as he gave up and rolled to the side.

I lost his weight, his warmth and the connection of our bodies.

I felt this loss somewhere so deep, so important, it penetrated like a blade, changing something, something crucial to my world, severing it in a way I knew would never heal.

“At least tell me you’re on the pill,” Hector finished and the wound intensified, the severed edges of it cauterizing because I knew then.

I knew.

He wanted no connection to me. Once this was done, whatever challenge he’d set for himself was won, he wanted no connection. Once he had his fill, he’d be gone and, like my Mom, like my father, like any friend I’d ever had and both my ex-boyfriends, I’d lose him too.

“I’m on the pill.” I whispered then rolled, wondering if I could make it into my clothes without dying of mortification.

I barely got to my side, definitely not up on an arm, before he tagged me at the waist and yanked my back into his heat.

His mouth at my neck, he warned, his voice low and angry, “Whatever Sadie I’m talkin’ to, all of ‘em have to know, this isn’t done.”

My heart sunk.

I was afraid of that.

* * * * *

“Wait here a minute,” Hector said, his still-annoyed gaze slicing from me, to Shirleen then he walked to the door that led to the inner rooms of Nightingale Investigations.

I looked at Shirleen who was sitting behind the reception desk. Her gaze was resting on the door closing behind Hector. Then she looked at me and her brows went up.

* * * * *

I’d spent the day keeping busy.

After the fantastic “fuck me” sex, and the heartbreaking incident afterward, getting ready for work at Hector’s house was an
eensy
bit uncomfortable.

This was because Hector was seriously angry (I didn’t know what
he
had to be angry about, I wasn’t using
him
as a difficultly procured notch on
my
bedpost after which I’d tattoo something on
my
arm (I didn’t know what I’d tattoo to remind me of Hector but I was thinking a black panther because that’s the only thing that would do him justice)).

I knew he had his anger in check because he wasn’t throwing cell phones into margarita pitchers (or the like). However, I also knew he
barely
had it in check so I decided to stay well out of his way.

This proved the wrong decision. The more I tried to avoid him, the less he seemed in control of his anger. I didn’t understand this reaction, but (for obvious reasons), I didn’t ask.

He dropped me off at the brownstone and I thought, considering his temper still hadn’t cooled, that would be that. However, that wasn’t that because he kissed me at the door.

Yes!

Kissed me!

This was not like any other kiss he’d given me. His fingers drove into my hair, cupping the back of my head, tilting it up and using it to pull me forward. I fell into him, my hand at his chest, and his mouth came down on mine hard. It was an angry kiss and because of that, so hot and intense, it stole my breath and my ability to stand on my own two feet.

When my hand was clutching his shirt at his chest, my other arm was wrapped around his waist and my torso was plastered to his, his head came up and he scorched me with a Hector Glare.

“Ten to four, I’ll pick you up at the gallery. Don’t make any fuckin’ plans tonight,” he ordered, his voice deep, low and vibrating with unhappy emotion.

Before I could remind him about
YoYo’s
arrival and my plan to be there when we got the dog, he was gone, leaving me swaying unsteadily in his wake.

“Holy Hot Blooded Latinos, sweets, what on
earth
was
that
all about?” Ralphie asked, wide eyes on the door.

My head was beginning to pound. Three nights of interrupted sleep and weeks of intense emotion were getting to me. After all that fantastic sex (four times!), I should have been relaxed and lose enough to do gymnastics. Instead, I was wound up tight.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I told Ralphie.

And I really,
really
didn’t.

“But –” Ralphie started.

I shot him a pleading look. “Please, please, Ralphie. I need quiet. I need peace. And, above all, I need time to get my head together.”

Ralphie snapped his mouth shut, looking at me closely. I knew he was dying to know what was going on. Instead, he nodded and, to my shock, he left me alone all day to get my head together.

And get it together I did.

I formed several plans of action.

Depending on what Hector’s next move was, mine would be a move to do one thing.