What About Love (Club Decadence Book 6) (28 page)

“It’s time for you to go home, darlin’. The choice you have is how you get there. You can come with me and we can settle this thing between us once and for all, or give me your safeword and Cap will see you home from here.”

Silence greeted him as he counted to ten.

“Angie,” he added quietly. “I need an answer.”

Still, she said nothing, which prompted his lips to curl up in a pleased grin. “In our world, little bit, not using your safeword is as good as consent.” Scooping her up in his arms, he told their boss over his shoulder. “We may be late to work in the morning, Cap.”

“I’d be more surprised if you weren’t, bud.”

Chapter Twenty

Squinting against the sun shining cheerfully in through her window, Angie frowned. She always closed the blinds at night. The throbbing pain in her skull reminded her of the half dozen or more tequila shots she’d done, which more than likely explained her lapse in routine. All she knew was that she was regretting the glaringly bright omission this morning.

Draping her arm over her eyes to block out the harsh light, she tried to piece together the events of the evening before. Most of it was a blur after she left T at Rossi downtown. Then she remembered pouring out her heart to the girls as she became progressively more inebriated. She’d been two sheets to the wind and working on the third when an incredibly handsome man asked her to dance. Arturo… she strained to recall his last name, but couldn’t. She hadn’t wanted to accept, but with the girls’ encouragement had taken his hand. He turned out to be extremely charming, tall and strong, with an appealing French accent, and he could dance exceptionally well, making her feel adept, even with two left feet, but he didn’t make her heart flip flop like T did. Though he had the same darkly exotic coloring and dominant air, it simply wasn’t the same.

She had fuzzy recollections of him mentioning he was born in Barcelona and lived in England, but couldn’t remember what he was doing all the way in south Texas or why on earth he sounded French. She hadn’t confused his firm hand on her ass or the way he commanded her body in the dance. That she hadn’t resisted, so soon after T’s possession bothered her, however. The memory dysfunction and her sluttish behavior could only be explained by the alcohol and her desolation over T.

She lifted both hands to her temples and rubbed, searching for an answer to how she got home. After the dancing, which included swaying, twirling, and a stunning dip. In a flash, it came back, and as the pieces started to fall into place she groaned.

T had come up during that fantastic dip. While looking up at him from her topsy-turvy perspective, she hadn’t been too smashed to note he’d been none too happy. After that, her dance partner had gracefully bowed out and they’d argued, about what was also vague, but the next thing she knew, she was over his shoulder and being carried out of the club like a caveman. Check that. A caveman would have clubbed her over the head and dragged her out by the hair. Thank goodness he had evolved slightly beyond that. She huffed a laugh and regretted it instantly, moaning as her head throbbed.

“Patron headache?” The rumbling voice sounding suddenly beside her sent her bolt upright in alarm, screaming at the top of her lungs. As she twisted away from the uninvited man in her bed, the sheet fell away and for the first time she realized she was naked. Clutching it close, she frantically wrapped it around her body as she glared down at a grinning T.

“What the hell are you doing in my bed?”

“Tequila blackout as well, I see.” Although his chuckle was soft, it made her head pound. Her scream and the sudden jerky motions hadn’t helped the internal hammering either. T lifted a hand and picked up a wavy lock of her hair, twisting it around his finger. It smacked of a newfound intimacy.

“Did we—?” She gestured between them, noticing that his chest was bare above the sheet that was bunched up at his waist. Was he stark naked as well? She held her breath, afraid of the answer.

“Yep, against the wall and it was fucking fantastic.”

Angie hung her head exhaling shakily. Good lord, she had no freakin’ control around the man. Next, she got angry. “Again with the wall? Is that the only move you have?”

He laughed fully this time, the sound rich and seductive. She would have melted if not for the drum solo going on in her brain. But she wasn’t so far gone in her morning-after post-sottedness that she didn’t notice how gorgeous he looked in her bed, the sage green linens the perfect backdrop for his tanned skin. As he laughed, his eyes twinkled with merriment, his straight white teeth flashing in his lady killer smile and the elusive dimple that usually only appeared when he really let go indented his left cheek. Hangover and all, she felt moisture gather between her thighs.

“Not again. I was referring to our quick and dirty screw against the wall at Rossi. I do not take advantage of drunk women. I put you in my truck, you passed out before we left the Decadence grounds, then you snored—”

“I do not snore!” she gasped, thoroughly mortified.

“Darlin’,” he crooned softly, tilting his head, his smile and tone challenging her denial. “It was mostly soft breathing with a little snuffle every now and then. But you did it with your head resting against my shoulder and your warm, curves snuggled into my side, so it was cute. I certainly didn’t mind.”

“How benevolent of you,” she grumbled, rubbing her pounding temples. “So we didn’t have sex again?”

“Nope, I carried you up here and tucked you in.”

“After stripping me, evidently.”

“Consider it repayment for the taxi service,” he grinned up at her as she scowled. “Seriously, nothing happened except us sleeping very soundly in your very comfortable although much too short bed. Next time we’ll go to my place where my feet won’t stick out the end.”

“Next time! I must still be drunk. You look like T and you sound like him, but the words that are coming out of your mouth are unrecognizable to me. Mostly because they don’t include I don’t or I can’t.” She’d worked herself into quite a dither. Afraid she’d say something she couldn’t take back, she began to scoot toward the edge, sheet and all. She didn’t get far with his long legs entwined in the linens. Turning back, she gave the sheet a one handed tug, while keeping the other from baring what he’d already seen too much of, too often.

He moved and the sheet slipped free, but rather than exiting the awkward quagmire that had once been her heavenly bed, she found herself hooked by a long arm around her waist and flipped onto her back on the mattress. Propping himself up on an elbow, he leaned over her, blocking out everything other than his now very serious face.

“I know I’ve set your head spinning, Angie, and I’m sorry.”

She blinked up at him thinking her head might actually explode. An apology was the last thing she expected to hear. “Excuse me? Can you repeat that? Better yet, let me record it so I can play it back when I’m recovered from my DTs.”

“I deserve that,” he acknowledged. “I want you, Angie, and seeing you with Arturo last night made me realize how badly. You’re going to have to be patient though. I have some baggage I need to work through.”

Her mouth fell open. Did that mean he’d changed his mind and decided that he could give her what she wanted?

“T,” she breathed. “I—”

A phone on the nightstand interrupted what she was going to say. He cursed, his hand gliding across her cheek before he rolled away. She was left staring at the wide expanse of his naked back, the muscles bunching and bulging as he moved. Her mind was now doing more than spinning, it began whirling faster than a tumbleweed in a south Texas dust devil.

“I’ll be there in ten,” he rumbled, but when he glanced back at Angie, he amended his estimate, adding, “Make that twenty.” When he disconnected, he dropped his phone on the nightstand and rolled back to her.

Now the wall in her face consisted of his smooth, muscled, magnificent chest. Her mouth went dry. None of this was helping her think any clearer.

Lord
, she prayed silently,
don’t let this be an alcoholic hallucination
.

“I’ve got a call out for Rossi, darlin’. I gotta go.” He shifted toward her, lowering his mouth until it hovered above hers, close enough for her to see his eyes gazing into hers without being distorted. “We’re not through here. Not by a long shot.”

He paused, holding her captive as if waiting for a response. Tongue-tied, she was incapable of one, which evidently was agreement enough because his head lowered the fraction of an inch left for their lips to touch. Open mouthed and with lots of tongue, he kissed her, fully, sensuously, blissfully. She also got the warm press of his naked body as his hand yanked down the sheet.

For the next ten minutes at least, he possessed her, his mouth taking, his hands stroking and his hard cock pressing against her hip. She was putty in his hands and even if he hadn’t apologized, she would have been his for the taking. It all ended too soon when he dragged his mouth away, burying his face in her neck, instead.

“Damn, I hate to leave you.”

“You gotta go,” she stated breathlessly.

“Yeah, I do, although I’ll be damned if I want to.”

She didn’t want him to either. Taking in slow, deep draws of air, she willed her body to calm. “I’m confused, T.”

“I know, baby, and we’ll get into all that tonight. If you’ve got plans, cancel them. I’ll be here at six with dinner and we’ll talk.” His head popped up and he cupped her chin with a gentle hand. “Got it?”

Lucidity returned, just barely. “I don’t know.”

Sleep mussed and sexy, he collected another kiss, as molten hot as the previous one, but shorter. It left her whimpering and following his lips for more when he lifted his head seconds later.

“How about now? Got it now? Or do you need more convincing.”

“Yes. Um, no. Oh, hell,” she managed in a whisper, “I can’t think when you do that.”

“You got it.” He grinned, answering for her. T kissed her hard one more time, before rolling off the bed. In seconds, he tugged up his jeans, pulled on his black T-shirt and was stuffing keys and his billfold in his pockets. He sat on the bed to pull on his boots, twisting and planting one fist into the mattress by her hip as he stretched easily across the expanse of her queen size bed to retrieve his phone from the far nightstand when he was done. On the way back, he paused for one more lingering kiss.

“Six o’clock, baby. Come hell or high water.”

Then he was gone.

In a daze or euphoria and longing, as well as dehydration caused by her overindulgence, she got ready for work.

*****

Aspirin, several glasses of water, dry toast, and a hot shower brought her back to life enough to slog into the office by 9 a.m. She’d wrapped up a few cases the prior week and had reports and billing sheets to complete. Working steadily, it was past noon when her stiff back told her it was time for a break. No supper, at least six, okay, more like eight tequila shooters—what had she been thinking?—and no breakfast to speak of this morning. She should have been ravenous by now, but was still a tad green. Feeling the need to stretch her legs, she left her office.

As she walked down the corridor toward the lobby, she saw a woman standing inside the door, talking animatedly to someone out of her view. Older, strikingly beautiful, with wavy dark hair that fell a bit past her shoulders, when Angie approached, she glanced her way. Her mocha brown eyes were very familiar. Without a doubt, this was T’s mother.

As she stepped past the end of the hallway that opened into the lobby, she spotted him standing opposite her, his hands on his hips, head hanging forward, eyes closed. Clearly, he was striving for patience.

“Excuse me for taking an interest in my only son’s life.” Her slightly accented voice flowed in a mellow alto, reminding her of the Dom she danced with the other night. She could listen to European accents all day, on the other hand, there was something about a slow southern drawl. She didn’t falter as she continued berating her son. “You were away for years, then when you come home, I hardly see you. I’ll be fifty-six next week, Tonio. I won’t be around forever, you know.”

“All right, Ma. I’ll be over for Sunday dinner. I promise.”

Angie took a step back, not wanting to intrude, but the older woman wouldn’t allow it.

“And who is this?” The tall, ageless beauty whose vivid features were replicated on her son’s handsome face, walked toward her. “Joanna told me you have a girl detective now. Introduce us,
bello.
”

T’s head came up. She was caught. No taking the back exit now. For a moment, they stared at each other. Watching as the impatience left his face and was replaced by a warm, knowing grin, she knew he was thinking about that morning in bed. Her face flushed as her mind quickly conjured up a different image, of him slamming into her while his hands gripped her ass cheeks and his tongue ravaged her mouth, all of it taking place against the wall not thirty feet behind her.

His mother cleared her throat. Angie’s cheeks heated another few degrees, when she rounded to face her, while T frowned as he took in his mother’s delighted grin.

“This is Angela Hixson and she’s thirty, hardly a girl,” T grumbled, clearly not enjoying his mother’s visit. “Angie,
mia madre
.”

“Lovely to meet you, my dear. I so rarely get to meet Antonio’s friends and associates. If you don’t mind my saying, you are much too pretty to be a commando.”

“We’re security specialists, Ma, not commandoes. We are also quite busy, including Angie. I’ll walk you out.”

“Such rudeness.” She shook her head. In an aside to Angie, she added, “He used to be his Mama’s sweet, loving boy, always giving the best goodnight hugs and kisses.”

Glancing up at him, she tilted her head to the side, suppressing a grin as she murmured, “Is that so?”

“Si, but the Army, they made him hard. Now, he’s brusque, sour rather than sweet, and has no time for his dear old Mama.”