#Laurengip

[96harmony96]

Chapter 12

Lauren and I arrived back in Manhattan just before midnight on Sunday. We’d spent the previous night sleeping apart, but most of the day together in the master bed. Kissing and touching. Laughing and whispering.

By silent agreement we didn’t talk about painful things during the rest of our time away. We didn’t turn on the television or radio, because it seemed wrong to share our time with anyone. We walked on the beach again. We made long, slow, lazy love on the third-story deck. We played cards and she won every hand. We recharged and reminded ourselves that what we’d found with each other was worth fighting for.

It was the most perfect day of my life.

We returned to my apartment when we got back into the city. Lauren unlocked the door for us with the key I’d given her, and we entered the darkened space as quietly as possible so that we didn’t wake Cary. Lauren gave me one of her soul-melting kisses good night and headed to the guest room, and I crawled into my lonely bed without her. Missing her. I wondered how long we’d be sleeping apart from each other. Months? Years?

Hating to think of it, I closed my eyes and started to drift.

The light flicked on.

“Camila. Get up.” Lauren strode into the room and straight to my dresser, digging through my clothes.

I blinked at her, noting that she’d changed into slacks and a button-down dress shirt. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Cary,” she said grimly. “He’s in the hospital.”

* * *

 A cab was waiting for us at the curb when we left my apartment building. Lauren ushered me in, then slid in beside me.

The cab seemed to pull away very slowly. Everything seemed to be moving slowly.

I clutched at Lauren’s sleeve. “What happened?”

“He was attacked Friday night.”

“How do you know?”

“Your mother and Stanton both left messages on my cell phone.”

“My mother . . . ?” I looked at her blankly. “Why didn’t she . . . ?”

No, she couldn’t call me. I hadn’t had my phone. Guilt and worry drowned me, making it hard to breathe.

“Camila.” She put her arm around my shoulders, urging me to rest my head against her. “Don’t worry until we know more.”

“It’s been days, Lauren. And I wasn’t here.”

Tears poured down my face and wouldn’t stop, even after we arrived at the hospital. I barely registered the exterior of the building, my attention dulled by the hard-driving anxiety pounding through me. I thanked God for Lauren, who was so calm and in control. A staff member provided the number of Cary’s room, but his helpfulness ended there. Lauren made a few middle-of-the-night phone calls that got me access to see Cary, even though it was well outside visiting hours. Lauren had been a very generous benefactor at times and that wasn’t easily dismissed or forgotten.

When I stepped into Cary’s private room and saw him, my heart shattered so completely, my knees went weak. Only Lauren kept me from falling. The man I thought of as my brother, the best friend I’d ever had or ever would have, lay silent and unmoving in the bed. His head was bandaged and his eyes blackened. One of his arms was stuck with intravenous lines, while the other was in a cast. I wouldn’t have recognized him, if I hadn’t known who he was.

Flowers covered every flat surface, cheerful and colorful bouquets. There were balloons, too, and a few cards. I knew some would be from my mother and Stanton, who were certainly paying for Cary’s care as well.

We were his family. And everyone had been there for him but me.

Lauren led me closer, her arm tight around my waist to hold me up. I was sobbing, the tears flowing thick and hot. It was everything I could do to remain silent.

Still, Cary must have heard me or sensed me. His eyelids fluttered, then opened. His beautiful green eyes were bloodshot and unfocused. It took him a minute to find me. When he did, he blinked a few times, and then tears started rolling down his temples.

“Cary.” I rushed to him and slipped my hand in his. “I’m here.”

He gripped me so tightly, it was painful. “Camila.”

“I’m sorry I took so long. I didn’t have my phone. I had no idea. I would’ve been here if I’d known.”

“S’okay. You’re here now.” His throat worked on a swallow. “God . . . everything hurts.”

“I’ll get a nurse,” Lauren said, running her hand down my back before slipping silently out of the room.

I saw a small pitcher and cup with straw on the rolling tray table. “Are you thirsty?”

“Very.”

“Can I sit you up? Or no?” I was afraid to do anything to cause him pain.

“Yeah.”

Using the remote lying near his hand, I raised the top part of the bed so that he was reclined. Then I brought the straw to his lips and watched him drink greedily.

He relaxed with a sigh. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, baby girl.”

“What the hell happened?” I set the empty cup down and grabbed his hand again.

“Fuck if I know.” His voice was weak, almost a whisper. “Got jumped. With a bat.”

“With a bat?” Just the thought made me physically ill. The brutality of it. The violence . . . “Was he insane?”

“Of course,” he snapped, a deep line of pain between his brows.

I backed up a half step. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t. Shit. I’m—” His eyes closed. “I’m exhausted.”

Just then the nurse came in wearing scrubs decorated with cartoon tongue depressors and animated stethoscopes. She was young and pretty, with dark hair and sloe eyes. She checked Cary over, took his blood pressure, then pressed the button on a remote wrapped around the guardrail.

“You can self-administer every thirty minutes for pain,” she told him. “Just press this button. It won’t dispense a dose if it’s not time, so you don’t have to worry about pressing it too often.”

“Once is too often,” he muttered, looking at me.

I understood his reluctance; he had an addictive personality. He’d traveled a short ways down the junkie road before I kicked some sense into him.

But it was a relief to see the lines of pain on his forehead smooth out and his breathing settle into a deeper rhythm.

The nurse looked at me. “He needs his rest. You should come back during visiting hours.”

Cary looked at me desperately. “Don’t go.”

“She’s not going anywhere,” Lauren said, reentering the room. “I’ve arranged to have a cot brought in tonight.”

I didn’t think it was possible to love Lauren more than I already did, but she somehow kept finding ways to prove me wrong.

The nurse smiled shyly at Lauren.

“Cary could use more water,” I told her, watching her pull her gaze reluctantly away from my girlfriend to look at me.

She grabbed the pitcher and left the room.

Lauren stepped closer to the bed and spoke to Cary. “Tell me what happened.”

Cary sighed. “Trey and I went out Friday, but he had to bail early. I walked him out to grab a cab, but it was nuts right in front of the club, so we went around the corner. He’d just taken off when I got nailed in the back of the head. Took me straight down and whaled on me a few times. Never got a chance to defend myself.”

My hands began to shake, and Cary’s thumb rubbed soothingly over the back.

“Hey,” he murmured. “Teaches me. Don’t stick my dick in the wrong chick.”

“What?”

I watched Cary’s eyes drift shut, and a moment later it was clear he was sleeping. I glanced helplessly across the bed at Lauren.

“I’ll look into it,” she said. “Step out with me for a minute.”

I followed her, my gaze repeatedly turning back to Cary. When the door closed behind us, I said, “God, Lauren. He looks terrible.”

“He got knocked around good,” she said grimly. “He’s got a skull fracture, a nasty concussion, three cracked ribs, and a broken arm.”

The list of injuries was horribly painful to listen to. “I don’t understand why someone would do this.”

She pulled me close and pressed her lips to my forehead. “The doctor said it’s possible Cary will be allowed to leave in a day or two, so I’ll make arrangements for home care. I’ll also let your work know you won’t be coming in.”

“Cary’s agency needs to know.”

“I’ll see to it.”

“Thank you.” I hugged her hard. “What would I do without you?”

“You’re never going to find out.”

* * *

 My mother woke me at nine the next morning, gliding fretfully into Cary’s room as soon as visiting hours began. She pulled me out to the hallway, drawing the attention of everyone in the immediate area. It was early, but she looked amazing in eye-catching red-soled Louboutins and an ivory sleeveless sheath dress.

“Camila. I can’t believe you went the entire weekend without your cell phone! What were you thinking? What if there had been an emergency?”

“There was an emergency.”

“Exactly!” She threw up one hand, since the other arm had her clutch tucked beneath it. “No one could get hold of you or Lauren. She left a message saying that she was taking you away for the weekend, but no one knew where you were. I can’t believe she was so irresponsible! What was she thinking?”

“Thank you,” I interjectedes because she was getting wound up and repeating herself, “for taking care of Cary. It means a lot to me.”

“Well, of course.” My mother took it down a notch. “We love him, too, you know. I’m devastated this happened.”

Her lower lip trembled and she dug in her bag for her ever-ready handkerchief.

“Are the police investigating?” I asked.

“Yes, of course, but I don’t how much good it will do.” She dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “I love Cary dearly, but he’s a tramp. I doubt he can recall all the women and men he’s been with. Remember the charity auction you attended with Lauren? When I bought you that stunning red dress?”

“Yes.” I’d never forget it. It was the night Lauren and I first made love.

“I’m certain Cary slept with a blonde he danced with that night—while they were there! They disappeared and when they came back . . . Well, I know what a satisfied man looks like. I would be surprised if he knew her name.”

I remembered what Cary had said before he fell asleep. “You think this attack has something to do with someone he slept with?”

My mother blinked at me, seeming to remember that I didn’t know anything. “Cary was told to keep his hands off ‘her’—whoever ‘her’ is. The detectives will be coming back later today to try to pull some names out of him.”

“Jesus.” I scrubbed at my eyes, needing my face wash badly and a cup of coffee even more. “They need to talk to Tatiana Cherlin.”

“Who’s that?”

“Someone Cary’s been seeing. I think she’d get a kick out of something like this. Cary’s boyfriend caught them together and she ate it up with a spoon. She loved being the cause of the drama.”

I rubbed at the back of my neck, then realized the tingle I felt was for another reason entirely. I looked over my shoulder and saw Lauren approaching, her long legs closing the distance between us with that measured stride. Dressed for work in a suit, with a large cup of coffee in one hand and a small black bag in the other, she was exactly what I needed at just the moment I needed her.

“Excuse me.” I walked toward Lauren and straight into her arms.

“Hey,” she greeted me, with her lips in my hair. “How are you holding up?”

“It’s awful. And senseless.” My eyes burned. “He didn’t need another disaster in his life. He’s had more than his share.”

“So have you, and you’re suffering along with him.”

“And you’re doing the same with me.” I pushed up onto my tiptoes and kissed her jaw, then stepped back. “Thank you.”

She handed me the coffee. “I brought some things for you—a change of clothes, your cell and tablet, bathroom stuff.”

I knew her thoughtfulness had to come at a price—literally. After a weekend away, she should be digging her way out of a small mountain of work worth millions, not running around taking care of me. “God. I love you.”

“Camila!” My mother’s startled exclamation made me wince. She advocated withholding the words I love you until the wedding night.

“Sorry, Mom. Can’t help it.”

Lauren brushed coffee-warmed fingertips down my cheek.

“Lauren,” my mother began, coming up right beside us, “you should know better than to take Camila away without any means of calling for help. You do know better.”

She was clearly referring to my past. I wasn���t sure why she thought I was so delicate that I couldn’t function on my own. She was far more fragile.

I shot a sympathetic glance Lauren’s way.

She held out the bag she’d brought for me, the calm and confident look on her face conveying her total comfort in dealing with my mother. So I left her to it. I didn’t have it in me to deal with her until I’d caffeinated myself.

I slipped back into Cary’s room and found him awake. Just the sight of him made the tears well and my throat close up tight. He was such a strong and vibrant man, so full of life and mischief. It was the worst pain to see him looking so broken.

“Hey,” he muttered. “Quit the waterworks every time you see me. Makes me feel like I’m gonna die or something.”

Hell. He was right. My tears didn’t do him any good. Instead, what little relief they gave me just put more of the burden on him. I needed to be a better friend than that.

“I can’t help it,” I said, sniffling. “It sucks. Someone beat me to it and kicked your ass before I could.”

“Is that right?” His scowl faded. “What’d I do now?”

“You didn’t tell me about Brett and Six-Ninths.”

“Oh yeah . . .” A bit of his old sparkle came back into his eyes. “How’d he look?”

“Good. Really good.” Very hot, but I kept that thought to myself. “Although right now, he might not look much better than you.”

I told him about the kiss and the resulting fight.

“Jauregui threw down, huh?” Cary shook his head, then winced and stopped. “Taking on Brett took guts—he’s a barroom brawler who loves a good fight.”

“And Lauren is a trained mixed martial artist.” I began digging through the bag Lauren had brought. “Why didn’t you tell me Captive Soul had signed with a major label?”

“Because you didn’t need to fall into that hole again. There are girls who can date rock stars; you’re not one of them. All that time on the road, all those groupies . . . You’d drive yourself and him insane.”

I shot him a look. “I’m in total agreement with you. But I’m insulted that you’d think I’d run back to him just because he made it big.”

“That’s not why. I didn’t want you to hear their first single if it could be helped.”

“‘Golden’?”

“Yeah . . .” He studied me as I headed toward the bathroom. “What’d you think of it?”

“It’s better than a song titled ‘Tapped That.’”

“Ha!” He waited until I came out again with my face washed and hair brushed. “So . . . you kissed him.”

“That’s the beginning and end of that story,” I said dryly. “Have you talked to Trey since Friday?”

“No. They’ve got my phone somewhere. My wallet, too, I’m guessing. When I came to, I was here, wearing this”—he pinched at his hospital gown—“freakin’ thing.”

“I’ll get your stuff for you.” I dumped my toiletries back in the bag, then went to sit in the chair beside him with my coffee in hand. “Lauren’s making arrangements to get you home with a private nurse.”

“Ooh . . . that’s a fantasy of mine. Can you make sure the nurse is hot? And single?”

My brows rose. Inside, though, I was so relieved to see him looking and sounding more like himself. “You’re obviously feeling better, if you’re feeling frisky. How did things go with Trey?”

“Good.” He sighed. “I’d worried that the party wouldn’t be his scene. I forgot that he knew a lot of the people already.”

Cary and Trey had met at a photo shoot, with Cary modeling and Trey assisting the photographer behind the camera. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

“Yeah. He was totally set on not getting laid.”

“So you tried . . . after you said you wouldn’t.”

“This is me we’re talking about.” He rolled his eyes. “Hell yeah, I tried. He’s hot and great in bed—”

“—and in love with you.”

He released his pent-up breath in a rush, wincing as his chest expanded. “No one’s perfect.”

I had to bite back a laugh. “Cary Taylor. Loving you isn’t a character defect.”

“Well, it’s not very smart. I was such an asshole to him,” he muttered, looking disgruntled. “He could do so much better.”

“That isn’t your decision to make for him.”

“Someone needs to make it.”

“And you’re volunteering because you love him, too.” My mouth curved. “Don’t you think that sounds ass-backwards?”

“I don’t love him enough.” All traces of levity were wiped from his face, leaving behind the wounded and lonely man I knew all too well. “I can’t be faithful like he wants. Just him and me. I like women. Love them, actually. I’d be cutting off half of who I am. Just thinking about it makes me resent him.”

“You fought too hard to accept yourself,” I said softly, remembering that time with more than a little twinge of sadness. “I totally understand and don’t disagree, but have you tried talking to Trey about it?”

“Yes, I talked to him about it. He listened.” He rubbed his fingers over his brow. “I get it, I do. If he told me he wanted to bang some other guy while seeing me, it’d bother the fuck out of me.”

“But not if it were a woman?”

“No. I don’t know. Shit.” His bloodshot green eyes pleaded with me. “Would it make a difference to you if Jauregui were banging another man? Or just another woman?”

The door opened and Lauren walked in. I held her gaze when I said, “If Lauren’s dick touched anything but her hand or me, we’d be over.”

Her brows rose. “Well, then.”

I smiled sweetly and winked. “Hi, ace.”

“Angel.” She looked at Cary. “How are you feeling this morning?”

Cary’s lips twisted wryly. “Like I got hit by a bus . . . or a bat.”

“We’re working on getting you set up at home. It looks like we can make that happen by Wednesday.”

“Big tits, please,” Cary said. “Or bulging muscles. Either will do.”

Lauren looked at me.

I grinned. “The private nurse.”

“Ah.”

“If it’s a woman,” Cary went on, “can you get her to wear one of those white nurse dresses with the zipper down the front.”

“I can only imagine the media frenzy over that sexual-harassment lawsuit,” Lauren said dryly. “How about a collection of naughty-nurse porn instead?”

“Dude.” Cary smiled wide and looked, for a moment, like his old self. “You’re the man.”

Lauren looked at me. “Camila.”

I stood and bent over to kiss Cary on the cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

We stepped out of the room and I saw my mother in conversation with the doctor, who looked dazzled by her.

“I talked to Garrity this morning,” Lauren said, referring to Mark, my boss. “So don’t worry about that.”

I hadn’t been, because she said she’d handle it. “Thank you. I’ll need to go in tomorrow. I’m going to see if I can get hold of Trey, Cary’s boyfriend. Maybe he can stop in while I’m at work.”

“Let me know if you need any help with that.” Lauren glanced at her watch. “You’ll want to stay here again tonight?”

“Yes, if that’s possible. Until Cary comes home.”

She took my face in her hands and pressed her lips to mine. “All right. I have a lot of work to catch up on. Charge your cell so I can reach you.”

I heard a faint buzzing. Lauren backed away and reached into an inner jacket pocket to withdraw her phone. She read the screen, then said, “I have to get this. I’ll talk to you later.”

Then she was gone, striding down the hallway as quickly as she’d arrived.

“She’s going to marry you,” my mother said, coming up to stand beside me. “You know that, don’t you?”

I didn’t, no. I still felt a little flare of gratitude every morning when I woke up and realized that we were still together. “What makes you say that?”

My mother looked at me with her baby blue eyes. It was one of the rare physical traits we didn’t share. “She’s completely taken you over and assumed control of everything.”

“That’s just her nature.”

“That’s the nature of all powerful women,” she said, reaching up to fuss with my no-nonsense ponytail. “And she’ll indulge you, because she’s making an investment in you. You’re an asset to her. You’re beautiful, well bred and well connected, and independently wealthy. You’re also in love with her and she can’t take her eyes off you. I bet she can’t keep her hands off you, either.”

“Mother, please.” I was so not in the mood for one of her lectures on the fine points of catching and marrying a rich man.

“Camila Cabello,” she scolded, facing me directly. “I don’t care if you listen to me because I’m your mother and you have to—or because you love her and don’t want to lose her, but you will listen.”

“Like I have a choice,” I muttered.

“You’re an asset now,” she repeated. “See that your life choices don’t make you a liability.”

“Are you talking about Cary?” Anger sharpened my voice.

“I’m talking about the bruise on Lauren’s jaw! Tell me that has nothing to do with you.”

I flushed.

She tsked. “I knew it. Yes, she’s your lover and you see an intimate side to her that few see, but don’t ever forget that she’s also Lauren Jauregui. You’ve got everything you need to be the perfect wife for a person of her stature, but you’re still replaceable, Camila. What she’s built is not. You jeopardize her empire and she’ll leave you.”

My jaw tightened. “Are you done?”

She ran her fingertips over my brows, her gaze shrewd and assessing. I knew she was giving me a mini-makeover in her mind, thinking of ways to improve what she’d given me from birth. “You think I’m a coldhearted gold digger, but my concern is maternal, believe it or not. I want very desperately for you to be with a person who has the money and wherewithal to guard you with everything they have, so I’ll know you’re safe. And I want you to be with a person you love.”

“I’ve found her.”

“And I can’t tell you how thrilled I am. I’m thrilled she’s young and still open to taking risks, so she’s more forgiving and understanding of your . . . quirks. And she knows,” she whispered, her gaze softening and growing liquid. “Just be careful. That’s all I’m trying to say. Don’t give her any reason to turn away from you.”

“If she did, that wouldn’t be love.”

Her lips curved wryly and she pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Come now. You’re my daughter. You can’t be that naïve.”

“Camila!”

I turned at the sound of my name and felt a rush of relief to see Trey hurrying toward me. He was of average height and nicely muscular, with unruly blond hair, hazel eyes, and a slight angle to his nose that told me it’d been broken at some point. He was dressed in faded, frayed jeans and a T-shirt, and I was struck by the fact that he wasn’t Cary’s usual flashy type. For once, it seemed, the attraction had been more than skin deep.

“I just found out,” he said when he reached me. “Detectives came by my work this morning and questioned me. I can’t believe this happened Friday night and I’m only just finding out about it.”

I couldn’t hold his slightly accusatory tone against him. “I just found out early this morning myself. I was out of town.”

After a quick introduction between my mother and Trey, she excused herself to go sit with Cary, leaving me to elaborate on the information Trey had gleaned from the detectives.

Trey shoved his hands through his hair, making it look even messier. “This wouldn’t have happened if I’d taken him with me when I left.”

“You can’t blame yourself for this.”

“Who else do I blame for the fact that he’s screwing around with another guy’s girl?” He gripped the back of his neck. “I’m the one who’s not enough for him. He’s got the drive of a hormonal teenager and I’m working or in school all the damn time.”

Ugh. Total TMI. It was a struggle not to wince. But I understood that Trey likely didn’t have anyone else he felt comfortable discussing Cary with.

“He’s bisexual, Trey,” I said softly, reaching out to run a comforting hand down his biceps. “That doesn’t mean you’re lacking.”

“I don’t know how to live with this.”

“Would you consider counseling? With both of you, I mean.”

He looked at me with haunted eyes for a long minute; then his shoulders slumped. “I don’t know. I think I have to decide if I can live with him cheating. Could you do it, Camila? Could you sit at home waiting for your lover, knowing they were sticking it somewhere else?”

“No.” An icy shiver coursed through me at the mere words. “No, I couldn’t.”

“And I don’t even know if Cary would agree to counseling. He keeps pushing me away. He wants me, and then he doesn’t. He’s committed, and then he isn’t. I want in, Camila, like he’s let you in, but he keeps shutting me out.”

“It took me a long time to break through to him. He tried pushing me away with sex, always coming on to me, taunting me. I think you made the right decision keeping it platonic on Friday. Cary puts his value on his looks and sex appeal. You need to show him that it’s not just his body you want.”

Trey sighed and crossed his arms. “Is that how you two got close? Because you wouldn’t sleep with him?”

“Partly. Mostly it’s because I’m a mess. It’s not as obvious now as it was when we met, but he knows I’m not perfect.”

“Neither am I! Who is?”

“He believes you’re better than he is, that you deserve better.” I grinned. “Me . . . well, I bet part of him thinks I deserve him. That we deserve each other.”

“Crazy fucker,” he muttered.

“He is that,” I agreed. “That’s why we love him, isn’t it? Do you want to go in and see him? Or do you want to go home and think about it?”

“No, I want to see him.” Trey’s shoulders rolled back and his chin lifted. “I don’t care what put him here. I want to be with him while he’s going through this.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” I linked my arm with his and led him to Cary’s room.

We entered to the sound of my mother’s trilling, girlish laughter. She sat on the edge of the bed, with Cary smiling adoringly at her. She was as much a mother to him as she was to me, and he loved her so much for that. His own mother had hated him, abused him, and allowed others to abuse him.

He looked over and saw us, and the emotions that swept across his face in that moment caused a tightness in my chest. I heard Trey’s breath catch as he got his first sight of Cary’s condition. I kicked myself for not telling him in advance not to make the mistake of getting weepy like I had.

Trey cleared his throat. “Drama queen,” he said with gruff affection. “If you wanted flowers, you should’ve just asked for them. This is extreme.”

“And ineffective, apparently,” Cary rejoined hoarsely, clearly trying to pull himself together. “I don’t see any flowers.”

“I see a ton.” Trey’s gaze did a brief slide across the room, then went back to Cary. “Just wanted to see what I was up against, so I could beat out my competition.”

There was no way to miss the double meaning in that statement.

My mom rose from the bed. She leaned over and kissed Cary’s cheek. “I’ll take Camila out to breakfast. We’ll see you in about an hour or so.”

“Gimme a sec,” I said, passing the bed quickly, “and I’ll get out of your hair, guys.”

I grabbed my phone and charger out of my bag and plugged it into an outlet by the window.

As soon as the screen flickered to life, I sent a quick group text message to Shawna and my dad, saying simply: I’ll call later. Then I made sure my phone was silenced and left it on the window ledge.

“Ready?” my mom asked.

“As I’ll ever be.”

[verybakeryhoagierebel-blog]

La figlia del coach || CAMREN || LAUREN G!P (on Wattpad) https://my.w.tt/awPDK6R7dX Nelle giovani squadre dei licei americani, che siano di basket o di baseball, vige una regola non scritta, una regola infrangibile. Nata così tanti anni fa, da diventare tradizione tramandata fino alle nuove generazioni di giovani atleti. Agli occhi dei più smaliziati, o semplicemente dei non amanti dello sport, sembrerà una regola stupida e priva…

[you-ll-never-be-alone]

Mates (Camren G!P) (en Wattpad) http://my.w.tt/UiNb/mBgDkXpBMF El pueblo de Campbellville, Ontario, Canadá siempre ha sido el hogar de Lauren Jauregui, donde dio sus primeros pasos al año y bebió su primera cerveza a los catorce. Cosas extrañas ocurren en ese pueblo desde la época de sus tatarabuelos, cosas de las que ella no estaría enterada hasta el día de su cumpleaños número dieciséis, cuando tuvo que des…

[96harmony96]

chapter 10

I stumbled back from the impact, nearly falling. The two hit the asphalt with a sickening thud. Someone yelled. A woman screamed. I could do nothing. I stood frozen and silent, emotions twisting through me in a frenzied tangle.

Lauren pinned Brett by the throat and pummeled his ribs with a relentless series of blows. She was like a machine, silent and unstoppable. Brett grunted with each brutal impact and struggled to break free.

“Jauregui! Dio mio.”

I wept when Arnoldo appeared. He leaped forward, reaching for Lauren, only to scramble back as Brett wrenched to the side and the two rolled.

Brett’s bandmates pushed in through the growing crowd around the front of the buses, prepared to brawl . . . until they saw who Brett was fighting with—the woman with the money behind their record label.

“Kline, you fuckhead!” Darrin, the drummer, gripped his own hair in both fists. “What the hell are you doing?”

Brett broke free, lurched to his feet, and tackled Lauren into the side of a bus. Lauren linked her hands and hammered Brett’s back like a club, forcing Brett to lurch away. Pressing the advantage, Lauren lashed out with a roundhouse kick and followed with a lightning-quick jab to the gut. Brett swung, his powerful biceps bunching with his fist, but Lauren ducked fluidly and retaliated with an uppercut that snapped Brett’s head back.

Jesus.

Lauren didn’t make a sound, not when she struck out and not when Brett landed a direct hit to her jaw. The quiet intensity of her fury was chilling. I could feel the rage pumping off her, saw it in her eyes, but she remained controlled and eerily methodical. She’d disconnected in some way, retreated to a place where she could objectively observe her body doing serious damage to someone else.

I’d caused that. I had turned the warm, wickedly playful woman who’d enchanted me all evening into the cold, murderous fighter in front of me.

“Miss Cabello.” Angus grabbed my elbow.

I looked at him desperately. “You have to stop her.”

“Please, return to the limousine.”

“What?” I looked over and saw blood dripping from Brett’s nose. No one was intervening. “Are you crazy?”

“We need to take Miss Ellison home. She’s your guest; you need to see to her.”

Brett swung and when Lauren feinted to the side, Brett rammed his other fist forward, nailing Lauren in the shoulder and sending her backward a few steps.

I grabbed Angus by the arms. “What’s the matter with you?! Stop them!”

His pale blue eyes softened. “She knows when to stop, Camila.”

“Are you shitting me?!”

He looked over my shoulder. “Mr. Ricci, if you would, please.”

The next thing I knew, I was slung over Arnoldo’s shoulder and en route to the limo. Lifting my head, I saw the circle of bystanders close in with my absence, blocking my view. I screamed my frustration and pounded at Arnoldo’s back, but it didn’t faze him. He climbed right into the back of the limo with me, and when Shawna hopped in a moment later, Angus shut the door as if everything was totally fucking normal.

“What the hell are you doing?” I snapped at Arnoldo, scrambling for the door handle as the limo rolled smoothly into motion. It wouldn’t open and no matter what I did, I couldn’t get it to unlock. “She’s your friend! You’re just going to leave her like that?”

“She’s your Girlfriend.” The calm neutrality in Arnoldo’s voice cut me deep. “And you are the one who left her like that.”

I slumped back into the seat, my stomach churning and my palms damp. Lauren . . .

“You’re the Camila in the song ‘Golden,’ aren’t you?” Shawna asked quietly, from her position on the opposite bench seat.

Arnoldo started, obviously surprised by the connection. “I wonder if Lauren—” He sighed. “Of course she knows.”

“That was a long time ago!” I said defensively.

“Not long enough, apparently,” he pointed out.

Desperate to get to Lauren, I couldn’t sit still. My feet tapped, my body battling against restlessness so intense I felt like crawling out of my skin.

I’d hurt the woman I loved and through her, another man who’d done nothing more than be himself. And I had no good explanation for it. Looking back, I had no idea what had come over me. Why hadn’t I pulled away sooner? Why had I kissed Brett back?

And what was Lauren going to do about it?

The thought that she might break up with me triggered overwhelming panic. I was sick with worry. Was she hurt? God . . . the thought of Lauren in pain ate at me like acid. Was she in trouble? She’d assaulted Brett. My palms went damp when I remembered Cary’s news that his clusterfuck buddy also wanted to press assault charges.

Lauren’s life was spiraling out of control—because of me. At some point she was going to realize I wasn’t worth the trouble.

I glanced at Shawna. She was looking out the window pensively. I’d blown her awesome night. And Arnoldo’s, too. “I’m sorry.” I sighed miserably. “I screwed up everything.”

She looked at me and shrugged, then offered a sympathetic smile that made my throat burn. “No big. I had a great time. I hope you work things out for the best.”

The best thing for me was Lauren. Had I blown that? Had I thrown away the most important thing in my life over some weird, inexplicable head trip?

I still felt Brett’s mouth on mine. I scrubbed at my lips, wishing I could erase the last half hour of my life as easily.

My anxiety made it feel like it took an eternity to drive Shawna home. I got out and gave her a hug on the sidewalk in front of her apartment building.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, for both earlier and then, because I was dying to get to Lauren—wherever she was—and I was afraid my impatience showed. I wasn’t sure I’d ever forgive Angus or Arnoldo for taking me away when and how they did.

Arnoldo hugged Shawna and told her that she and Doug had a standing reservation for Tableau One anytime. I softened a little toward him. He’d taken good care of her all night.

We climbed back into the limo and set off for the restaurant. I curled into a darkened corner of the seat and cried silently, unable to contain the flood of despair overwhelming me. When we arrived at the restaurant, I used my tank top to dry my face. Arnoldo stopped me from getting out.

“Be gentle with her,” he scolded, staring hard at my face. “I have never seen her the way she is with you. I can’t say you are worthy of her, but you can make her happy. I saw that myself. Do it or walk. Don’t fuck with her head.”

I couldn’t speak past the lump in my throat, so I nodded, hoping he could see in my eyes how much Lauren meant to me. Everything.

Arnoldo disappeared into the restaurant. Before Angus shut the door, I slid forward on the seat. “Where is she? I need to see her. Please.”

“She called.” Angus’s face was kind, which made me start crying again. “I’m taking you to her now.”

“Is she okay?”

“I don’t know.”

I pushed back into the seat, feeling physically ill. I barely paid attention to where we were headed, my only thought being that I needed to explain. I needed to tell Lauren that I loved her, that I’d never leave her if she’d still have me, that she was the only one I wanted, the only person who set my blood on fire.

Eventually, the car slowed and I looked out, realizing we’d returned to the amphitheater. As I peered out the window, searching for her, the door behind me opened, startling me, and I shifted around to see Lauren duck inside and settle on the opposite bench from me.

I lurched toward her. “Lauren—”

“Don’t.” Her voice whipped with anger, sending me recoiling and falling on my rear. The limo set into motion, jostling me.

Crying, I watched her pour a glass of amber liquor at the bar and toss it back. I waited on the floorboards, my stomach churning with fear and grief. She refilled her glass before shutting the bar and dropping back in her seat. I wanted to ask her if Brett was okay or badly hurt. I wanted to ask how Lauren was, if she was injured or fine. But I couldn’t. I didn’t know if she would take the questions the wrong way and assume my concern for Brett meant more than it did.

Her face was impassive, her eyes hard as sapphires. “What is he to you?”

I swiped at the tears streaming down my face. “A mistake.”

“Then? Or now?”

“Both.”

Her lip curled in a sneer. “You always kiss your mistakes like that?”

My chest heaved as I tried to stem the need to sob. I shook my head violently.

“You want him?” she asked tightly, before taking another drink.

“No,” I whispered. “I only want you. I love you, Lauren. So much it hurts.”

Her eyes closed and her head fell back. I took the opportunity to crawl closer, needing to bridge the physical distance between us, at least.

“Did you come for me when I had my fingers inside you, Camila? Or because of his goddamn song?”

Oh my God . . . How could she doubt—?

I made her doubt. I did that. “You. You’re the only one who can get to me like that. Make me forget where I am. Make it so I don’t care who’s around or what’s happening as long as you’re touching me.”

“Isn’t that what happened when he kissed you?” Lauren’s eyes opened and focused on me. “He’s had his dick in you. He’s fucked you . . . blown his load inside you.”

I cringed away from the horrible bitterness in her tone, the vicious nastiness. I knew just how she felt. How badly the mental images could sting and claw until you felt like you were going mad. In my mind, she and Corinne had fucked dozens of times while I watched in sick, jealous fury.

She straightened suddenly, leaning forward to rub her thumb roughly across my lips. “He’s had your mouth.”

I grabbed her glass and drank what was left in it, hating the harsh taste and searing burn. I swallowed by force of will alone. My stomach roiled, protesting. The heat of the alcohol spread outward from my gut.

Lauren sagged back into the seat, her arm thrown across her face. I knew she was still seeing me kissing Brett. Knew it was eating a hole in her mind.

Dropping the glass on the floor, I surged between her legs and fumbled with her button fly.

She caught my fingers in an iron grip but kept her eyes covered with her forearm. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Come in my mouth,” I begged. “Wash it away.”

There was a long pause. She sat there, utterly still except for the heavy lift and fall of her chest.

“Please, baby.”

With a muttered curse, she released me, her hand falling limply to her side. “Do it.”

I rushed to get to her, my pulse pounding at the thought that she might change her mind and deny me . . . that she might decide she was done with me. The only help she gave me was a momentary lift of her hips, so I could yank her jeans and boxer briefs out of the way.

Then her big, beautiful cock was in my hands. My mouth. I moaned at the taste of her, at the warmth and satiny softness of her skin, at the smell of her. I nuzzled my cheek against her groin and balls, wanting her scent all over me, marking me as hers. My tongue followed the thick veins coursing the length of him, licking her up and down.

I heard her teeth grind when I sucked her with long drawing pulls, moans of apology and bliss vibrating in my throat. It broke my heart that she was so silent, my vocal lover who always talked dirty to me. Always told me what she wanted and needed . . . how good she felt when I made love to her. She was holding herself back, denying me the satisfaction of knowing I pleased her.

Pumping the thick root with my fist, I milked her, sucking on the plush crown, luring her pre-cum to the tip where I could lick it up with rapid flutters of my tongue. Her thighs bunched, her breath came in fierce pants. I felt her coil tight and I went wild, double-fisting her, my mouth working so hard that my jaw ached. Her spine straightened, her head lifting from the seat only to slam backward as the first thick spurt exploded in my mouth.

I whimpered, her flavor igniting my senses, making me crave more. I swallowed convulsively, my hands pulling and rubbing on her throbbing penis to lure more of her rich, creamy semen onto my tongue. Her body quaked as she came for long minutes, filling my mouth until she spilled out of the sides of my lips. She made no sound, as unnaturally silent as she’d been during the fight.

I would’ve sucked her off for hours. I wanted to, but she put both hands on my shoulders and urged me away. I looked up into her heartrendingly gorgeous face, saw her eyes glittering in the semidarkness. She touched my lips with her thumb, smearing her semen over and around the swollen curves.

“Slide your tight cunt around me,” she ordered hoarsely. “I’ve got more to give you.”

Shaky and frightened by her harsh remoteness, I wriggled out of my boy shorts.

“Take it all off. Everything except the boots.”

I did as she said, my body quickening at her command. I’d do anything he wanted. I would prove to her that I was hers and only hers. I would atone however she needed me to so she’d know I loved her. I unzipped my skirt and pushed it off, then whipped my tank top over my head and threw it on the opposite bench. My bra followed.

When I straddled her, Lauren caught my hips and looked up at me. “Are you wet?”

“Yes.”

“It turns you on to suck my cock.”

My nipples hardened further. The blunt, crude way she talked about sex turned me on, too. “Always.”

“Why did you kiss him?”

The abrupt change in topic knocked me askew. My lower lip trembled. “I don’t know.”

She released me, reaching up and over her shoulders with both hands to grip the sides of the headrest. Her biceps bulged with the pose. I was aroused by the sight, as I was by everything about her. I wanted to see her bare tits glistening with sweat, her abs tightening and flexing as she pumped her cock into me.

I licked my lips, tasting her. “Take your shirt off.”

Her gaze narrowed. “This isn’t for you.”

I stilled, my heart racing in my chest. She was using sex against me. In the limo where we’d first made love, in the same position I’d first taken her . . . “You’re punishing me.”

“You’ve earned it.”

It didn’t matter that she was right. If I’d earned it, so had she.

I gripped the top of the seat back for balance and wrapped the fingers of my other hand around her cock. She was still hard, still throbbing. A muscle in her neck twitched as I stroked her in my fist, priming her. I placed the wide crest between the lips of my cleft, rubbing her back and forth, coating her with the slickness of my desire.

My gaze never left her. I watched her as I teased us both, looking for any sign of the passionate lover I adored. She wasn’t there. A furious stranger glared back at me, daring me, taunting me with her detachment.

I let the first thick inch push inside me, spreading me open. Then I slammed my hips down, crying out as she pierced me deep and stretched me almost unbearably.

“Jesus. Fuck,” she bit out, shuddering. “Goddamn it.”

Her uncontrolled outburst spurred me. Digging my knees into the seat, I set my hands on either side of hers and lifted, pulling off her, my trembling sex clinging tightly. I pushed back down, the glide easier now that she was wet from me. When my buttocks hit her thighs I found her muscles hard as stone, her body giving away the lie—she wasn’t indifferent.

I lifted again, slowly, making us both feel every nuance of the delicious friction. When I pushed back down, I tried to be as stoic as she was, but the sensation of fullness, the heated connection, was too exquisite to contain. I moaned, and she shifted restlessly, her hips moving in a delicious little circle before she could stop himself.

“You feel so good,” I whispered, stroking her raging cock with my eager, aching sex. Sliding up and down. “You’re all I need, Lauren. All I want. You were made for me.”

“You forgot that,” she bit out, her knuckles white from her grip on the seat back.

I wondered if she was just holding on or physically restraining herself from reaching for me. “Never. I could never forget. You’re a part of me.”

“Tell me why you kissed him.”

“I don’t know.” I rested my damp forehead against her, feeling the tears burning behind my eyes. “God, Lauren. I swear I don’t know.”

“Then shut up and make me come.”

If she’d slapped my face, it couldn’t have shocked me more. I straightened and leaned away from her. “Fuck you.”

“Now you’re getting the idea.”

Hot tears slid down my face. “Don’t treat me like a whore.”

“Camila.” Her voice was low and raspy, filled with warning, but her eyes were dark and desolate. Filled with pain that matched my own. “You want to stop, you know what to say.”

Crossfire. With one word I could unmistakably, irrefutably put an end to this agony. But I couldn’t use it now. Just the fact that she brought up my safe word told me she was testing me. Pushing me. She had an agenda, and if I gave up now, I’d never know what it was.

Reaching behind me, I set my hands on her knees. I arched my back and dragged my soaked sex along the rigid length of her cock, then slammed back down. I adjusted the angle, lifted and fell again, gasping at the feel of her. Mad as hell or not, my body worshiped hers. Loved the feel of her, the sense of rightness that was there despite the anger and hurt.

Her breath was powering out of her lungs with every plunge of my hips. Her body was hot, so hot, radiating heat like a blast furnace. I pumped my hips. Up. Down. Taking the pleasure she refused to give me. My thighs, buttocks, stomach, and core tightened with every lift, fisting her from root to tip. They relaxed when I dropped, letting her sink deep.

I fucked her with everything I had, pounding myself onto her cock. Her breath hissed out between her clenched teeth. Then she was coming hard, jetting inside me so fiercely I felt each scorching burst of semen like a separate thrust. I cried out, loving the feel of it, chasing an orgasm that would shatter me. I was wound so tightly, my body desperate for release after pleasing her twice.

But she moved, grabbing me by the waist and restraining my movements, holding herself deep as she pumped me full. I choked off a scream when I realized she was deliberately preventing me from coming.

“Tell me why, Camila,” she growled. “Why?”

“I don’t know!” I yelled, trying to grind my hips onto her, pounding her shoulders with my fists when his grip tightened.

Holding me pinned to her pelvis and filled with her cock, Lauren pushed to her feet and everything shifted. She pulled out of me, flipped me to face away from her, then bent me over the edge of the seat with my knees on the floorboard. With one hand at the small of my back, holding me down, she cupped my sex and rubbed, massaging her semen into my cleft. She spread it around, coating me with it. My hips circled, seeking that perfect bit of pressure to get me off . . .

She kept it from me. Deliberately.

The pounding in my clit and the needy clenching of my empty core was driving me mad, my body hungry for release. She pushed two fingers into me and my nails dug into the black leather seat. She finger-fucked me leisurely, sliding lazily in and out, keeping me on the edge.

“Lauren,” I sobbed, the sensitive tissues inside me rippling greedily around her. I was coated in sweat, barely able to breathe. I began to pray for the car to stop, for us to reach our destination, holding my breath in desperate anticipation of escape. But the limo never pulled over. It kept driving and driving, and I was restrained so completely that I couldn’t rise up enough to see where we were.

She folded over my back, her cock lying within the seam of my ass. “Tell me why, Camila,” she crooned in my ear. “You knew I’d be coming after you . . . that I’d find you . . .”

My eyes squeezed shut, my hands clenching into fists. “I. Don’t. Know. Damn you! I don’t fucking know!”

Her fingers pulled free and then her cock was pushing into me. My sex spasmed around the delicious hardness, sucking her deeper. I heard her breath catch on a muffled groan, and then she was taking me.

I cried with the pleasure of it, my entire body shivering with delight as she fucked me thoroughly, the wide head of her gorgeous penis rubbing and tugging at tender, hyperstimulated nerves. The pressure built and built, brewing like a storm . . .

“Yes,” I gasped, stretched tight with anticipation.

She pulled out at the first grasp of my sex and left me hanging on the precipice again. I screamed with frustration, fighting to get up and away from the lover who’d become the source of unbearable torment.

She whispered in my ear like the devil himself. “Tell me why, Camila. Are you thinking of him now? Are you wishing it were his cock inside you? Wishing it were his cock fucking your perfect little cunt?”

I screamed again. “I hate you! You’re a sadistic, selfish son of a—”

She was in me again, filling me, stroking rhythmically into my quivering core.

Unable to stand it a minute longer, I struggled to reach my clit with my fingers, knowing a single stroke would have me coming violently.

“No.” Lauren caught my wrists and held my hands down on the seat, her thighs between my own, keeping my legs spread wide so she could sink deep. Over and over. The tempo of her thrusts unfaltering and relentless.

I was thrashing, screaming, losing my mind. She could make me come with just her cock, giving me an intense vaginal orgasm just from riding me at the right angle, rubbing her thick crest over and over whatever spot I needed her to, a random place inside me she knew instinctively every time she had me.

“I hate you,” I sobbed, tears of frustration wetting my face and the seat beneath my cheek.

Bending over me, she gasped in my ear, “Tell me why, Camila.”

Fury boiled up inside me and spewed out. “Because you deserved it! Because you should know what it feels like! How bad it hurts, you self-centered asshole!”

She stilled. I felt her breath heave out of her. My blood was roaring in my ears, so loudly that at first I thought I was deliriously imagining her voice softening with tenderness.

“Angel.” Her lips brushed over my shoulder blade, her hands releasing my wrists to slide beneath me and cup my full, heavy breasts. “My stubborn, beautiful angel. Finally, we get to the truth.”

Lauren lifted me up, straightening me. Exhausted, my head lolled against her shoulder, my tears dripping onto my chest. I had nothing left to fight with, barely able to whimper when she rolled an aching nipple between her fingertips and reached between my splayed legs. Her hips began to lunge, her cock pumping upward into me as she pinched the lips of my sex around my throbbing clit and rubbed.

I came with a hoarse cry of her name, my entire body convulsing in fierce tremors as the relief exploded through me. The orgasm lasted forever and Lauren was tireless, extending my pleasure with the perfect thrusts I’d been so frantic for earlier.

When I finally collapsed in her arms, panting and soaked with sweat, she lifted me carefully off her and placed me lengthwise on the bench seat. Shattered, I covered my face with my hands, incapable of stopping her when she pushed my thighs apart and put her mouth on me. I was soaked with her semen and she didn’t care, tonguing and suckling my clit until I came again. And again.

My back arched with each orgasm, my breath soughing from my lungs. I lost track of how many times I climaxed after they began rolling into each other, cresting and waning like the tide. I tried to curl away from her, but she just straightened and yanked her shirt off, climbing over me with one knee on the seat and the other leg extended to the floor. She placed her hands on the window above my head, putting her body on display as she’d refused to do before.

I shoved at her. “No more! I can’t take any more.”

“I know.” Her abs tightened as she slid into me, her eyes on my face as she pushed carefully through swollen tissues. “I just want to be inside you.”

My neck arched as she slid deeper, a low sound escaping me because it felt sooo good. As worn out and overstimulated as I was, I still craved to possess her and to be possessed by her. I knew I always would.

Bending her head, she pressed her lips to my forehead. “You’re all I want, Camila. There’s no one else. There will never be anyone else.”

“Lauren.” She understood, as I hadn’t, that the night had fallen apart because of my jealousy and the deep-seated need I had to make her feel it for herself.

She kissed me softly, reverently, erasing every memory of anyone else’s lips on mine.

* * *

 “Angel.” Lauren’s voice was a warm rasp in my ear. “Wake up.”

I moaned, squeezing my eyes shut tighter and burying my face deeper in her neck. “Leave me alone, you sex fiend.”

Her silent laughter shook me. She pressed a hard kiss to my forehead and wiggled out from under me. “We’re here.”

Cracking one eye open, I watched her put her shirt back on. She’d never gotten out of her jeans. I realized the sun was out. I sat up and looked out the windows, gasping when I saw the ocean. We’d stopped for gas once but I hadn’t been able to get my bearings or figure out where we were. Lauren had declined to tell me when I asked, saying only that it was a surprise.

“Where are we?” I breathed, thrilled by the sight of the sun climbing over the water. It had to be solidly into morning. Maybe even midmorning.

“North Carolina. Lift your arms.”

I obeyed automatically, and she slid my tank top over my head. “I need my bra,” I muttered, when I could see her again.

“No one’s here to see you but me and we’re going straight into the bathtub.”

I looked again at the weathered shingle-covered building we’d parked beside. It was at least three stories, with wraparound decks and balconies on the front and sides, and a quaint single-door entrance off the back. It stood on stilts at the shoreline, so close to the water that I knew the tide must come up right beneath it. “How long have we been driving?”

“Almost ten hours.” Lauren slid my skirt up my legs and I stood, allowing her to twist it straight and pull up the zipper. “Let’s go.”

She got out first, then held her hand out for me. The bracing, salty breeze hit my face, waking me. The rhythmic surge of the ocean grounded me to the moment and where we were. Angus was nowhere to be seen, which was a relief, since I was very aware of my lack of underwear. “Angus drove all night?”

“We switched drivers when we stopped for gas.”

I looked at Lauren and my pulse stuttered at the tender, haunted way she was looking at me. A shadow of a bruise marred her jaw and I reached up to touch it, my chest aching when she nuzzled into my palm.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” I asked, feeling so emotionally raw after the long night we’d had.

She caught my wrist and pulled my hand down to press flat over her heart. “Here.”

My love . . . It had been hard on her, too. “I’m so sorry.”

“So am I.” She kissed my fingertips, then linked our hands and led me up to the house.

The door was unlocked and she walked right in. A wire mesh basket sat on a console just inside the door, holding a bottle of wine and two glasses tied with ribbon. As Lauren turned the deadbolt with a firm click, I plucked the Welcome envelope out and opened it. A key fell into my palm.

“We won’t be needing that.” She took the key from me and set it on the console. “For the next two days, we’re going to be hermits together.”

A hum of pleasure warmed me from the inside, followed by more than a little awe that a woman like Lauren Jauregui could enjoy my company so much she didn’t need anyone else.

“Come on,” she said, tugging me toward the stairs. “We’ll break into that wine later.”

“Yeah. Coffee first.”

I took in the décor of the house. It was rustic on the outside and modern contemporary on the inside. The wainscoted walls were painted a bright white and decorated with massive black-and-white photos of seashells. The furniture was all white, and most of the accessory pieces were glass and metal. It would have been stark if not for the gorgeous view of the ocean and the color introduced in the area rugs covering the hardwood floors and the collection of hardcover books filling built-in bookcases.

When we reached the top floor, I felt a flutter of happiness. The master suite was a totally open space, with only two support columns to break it up. Bouquets of white roses, white tulips, and white calla lilies covered nearly every flat surface, and some even sat on the floor in strategic areas. The bed was massive and covered in white satin, which made me think of a bridal suite, an impression reinforced by the black-and-white photo of a filmy scarf or veil blowing in the breeze hanging over the headboard.

I looked at Lauren. “Have you been here before?”

She reached up and freed my now-lopsided ponytail. “No. What reason would I have to come here?”

Right. She didn’t take women anywhere but her hotel fuck pad—that she apparently still had. My eyes closed wearily as she ran her fingers through the loosened tresses of my hair. I didn’t have the energy to get riled up about that.

“Take your clothes off, angel. I’ll start the bath.”

She backed up. I opened my eyes and caught her by the shirt. I didn’t know what to say; I just didn’t want her to go.

She understood, because she got me.

“I’m not going anywhere, Camila.” Lauren cupped my jaw in her hands and stared into my eyes, showing me the intensity and laser focus that had snared me from the first. “If you wanted him, it wouldn’t be enough for me to let you go. I want you too much. I want you with me, in my life, in my bed. If I can have that, nothing else matters. I’m not too proud to take what I can get.”

I swayed into her, drawn to her obsessive and insatiable raw need for me, which reflected the depth of my need for her. My hand fisted in the cotton of her T-shirt.

“Angel,” she breathed, lowering her head to press her cheek to mine. “You can’t let me go, either.”

She swept me up in her arms and carried me into the bathroom with her.

[96harmony96]

Chapter 15

I stopped by Cary’s room before I left for work Thursday morning. I cracked the door open and peeked in. When I saw he was sleeping, I started to back out.

“Hey,” he murmured, blinking at me.

“Hey.” I entered. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m glad to be home.” He rubbed at the corners of his eyes. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah . . . I just wanted to check on you before I head to work. I’ll be home around eight. I’ll grab dinner on the way back, so expect a text around seven to see what you’re hungry—” I interrupted myself with a yawn.

“What kind of vitamins does Jauregui take?”

“Huh?”

“I’m never not horny, and even I can’t pile-drive all night like that. I kept thinking, ‘She’s got to be done now.’ Then she’d start up again.”

I flushed and shifted on my feet.

He howled with laughter. “It’s dark in here, but I know you’re blushing.”

“You should’ve put your headphones on,” I mumbled.

“Don’t stress about it. It was good to find out my equipment still works. I hadn’t had a chubby since before the attack.”

“Eww . . . Gross, Cary.” I started backing out of the room. “My dad comes in tonight. Technically tomorrow. His flight lands at five.”

“You picking him up?”

“Of course.”

His smile faded. “You’re going to kill yourself at this rate. You haven’t gotten any sleep all week.”

“I’ll catch up. See ya.”

“Hey,” he called after me. “Does last night mean you and Jauregui are okay again?”

I leaned into the doorjamb with a sigh. “Something’s wrong, and she won’t talk to me about it. I wrote her a letter basically puking out all my insecurities and neuroses.”

“Never put stuff like that in writing, baby girl.”

“Yeah, well . . . all it got me was fucked half to death with no better idea of what the problem is. She said it has to be this way. I don’t even know what that means.”

He nodded.

“You act like you get it,” I said.

“I think I get the sex.”

That sent a chill down my spine. “Get-it-out-of-your-system sex?”

“It’s possible,” he agreed softly.

I closed my eyes and let the confirmation slide through me. Then I straightened. “I gotta run. Catch you later.”

* * *

 The thing about nightmares was that you couldn’t prepare for them. They sneaked up on you when you were most vulnerable, wrecking havoc and mayhem when you were totally defenseless.

And they didn’t always happen while you were sleeping.

I sat in an agonized daze as Mark and Mr. Waters went over the fine points of the Kingsman Vodka ads, achingly aware of Lauren sitting at the head of the table in a black suit with white shirt and tie.

She was pointedly ignoring me, had been from the moment I walked into the Cross Industries conference room aside from a cursory handshake when Mr. Waters introduced us. That brief touch of her skin against mine had sent a charge of awareness through me, my body immediately recognizing her as the one that had pleasured it all night. Lauren hadn’t seemed to register the contact at all, her gaze trained above my head as she’d said, “Miss Cabello.”

The contrast to the last time we’d been in the room was profound. Then, she hadn’t been able to keep her eyes off me. Her focus had been searing and blatant, and when we’d left the room she’d told me that she wanted to fuck me and would dispense with anything that got in the way of her doing so.

This time, she stood abruptly when the meeting was concluded, shook the hands of Mark and Mr. Waters, and strode out the door with only a short, inscrutable glance at me. Her two directors scurried after her, both attractive brunettes.

Mark shot me a questioning look across the table. I shook my head.

I made it back to my desk. I worked industriously for the rest of the day. During my lunch break, I stayed in and looked up things to do with my dad. I decided on three possibilities—the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty, and a Broadway play, with the trip to Ellis Island reserved for if he really had a desire to go. Otherwise, I figured we could skip the ferry and just check her out from the shore. His time in the city was short, and I didn’t want to overload it with a bunch of running around.

On my last break of the day, I called Lauren’s office.

“Hi, Scott,” I greeted her secretary. “Is it possible for me to talk to your boss real quick?”

“Hold on a minute and I’ll see.”

I half-expected to have my call rejected, but a couple of minutes later I was put through.

“Yes, Camila?”

I took the length of a heartbeat to savor the sound of her voice. “I’m sorry to bother you. This is probably a stupid question, considering, but . . . are you coming to dinner tomorrow to meet my father?”

“I’ll be there,” she said gruffly.

“Are you bringing Ireland?” I was surprised there wasn’t a tremor in my voice, considering the overwhelming relief I felt.

There was a pause. Then, “Yes.”

“Okay.”

“I have a late meeting tonight, so I’ll have to meet you at Dr. Petersen’s. Angus will drive you over. I’ll grab a cab.”

“All right.” I sagged into my seat, feeling a spark of hope. Continuing therapy and meeting my dad could only be seen as positive signs. Lauren and I were struggling. But she hadn’t given up yet. “I’ll see you then.”

* * *

 Angus dropped me off at Dr. Petersen’s office at a quarter to six. I went inside and Dr. Petersen waved at me through his open office door, rising from his seat behind his desk to shake my hand.

“How are you, Camila?”

“I’ve been better.”

His gaze swept over my face. “You look tired.”

“So everyone keeps telling me,” I said dryly.

He looked over my shoulder. “Where’s Lauren?”

“She had a late meeting, so she’s coming separately.”

“All right.” He gestured at the sofa. “This is a nice opportunity for us to talk alone. Is there anything in particular you’d like to discuss before she arrives?”

I settled on the seat and spilled my guts, telling Dr. Petersen about the amazing trip to the Outer Banks and then the bizarre, inexplicable week we’d had since. “I just don’t get it. I feel like she’s in trouble, but I can’t get her to open up at all. She’s completely cut me off emotionally. Honestly, I’m beginning to get whiplash. I’m also worried that her change in behavior is because of Corinne. Every time we’ve hit one of these walls, it’s because of her.”

I looked at my fingers, which were twisted around each other. They reminded me of my mother’s habit of twisting handkerchiefs, and I forced my hands to relax. “It almost seems like she’s got some kind of hold on her and she can’t break free of it, no matter how she feels about me.”

Dr. Petersen looked up from his typing, studying me. “Did she tell you that she wasn’t going to make her appointment on Tuesday?”

“No.” The news hit me hard. “She didn’t say anything.”

“She didn’t tell me, either. I wouldn’t say that’s typical behavior for her, would you?”

I shook my head.

Dr. Petersen crossed his hands in his lap. “At times, one or both of you will backtrack a bit. That’s to be expected considering the nature of your relationship—you’re not just working on you as a couple, but also as individuals so you can be a couple.”

“I can’t deal with this, though.” I took a deep breath. “I can’t do this yo-yo thing. It’s driving me insane. The letter I sent her . . . It was awful. All true, but awful. We’ve had some really beautiful moments together. She’s said some—”

I had to stop a minute, and when I continued, my voice was hoarse. “She’s said some w-wonderful things to me. I don’t want to lose those memories in a bunch of ugly ones. I keep debating whether I should quit while I’m ahead, but I’m hanging in here because I promised her—and myself—that I wouldn’t run anymore. That I was going to dig my feet in and fight for this.”

“That’s something you’re working on?”

“Yes. Yes, it is. And it’s not easy. Because some of the things she does . . . I react in ways I’ve learned to avoid. For my own sanity! At some point you have to say you gave it your best shot and it didn’t work out. Right?”

Dr. Petersen’s head tilted to the side. “And if you don’t, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“You’re asking me?”

“Yes. Worst-case scenario.”

“Well . . .” I splayed my fingers on my thighs. “She keeps drifting away from me, which makes me cling harder and lose all sense of self-worth. And we end up with her going back to life as she knew it and me going back to therapy trying to get my head on straight again.”

He continued to look at me, and something about his patient watchfulness prodded me to keep talking.

“I’m afraid that she won’t cut me loose when it’s time and that I won’t know better. That I’ll keep hanging on to the sinking ship and go down with it. I just wish I could trust that she’d end it, if it comes to that.”

“Do you think that needs to happen?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” I pulled my gaze away from the clock on the wall. “But considering it’s nearly seven and she stood us both up tonight, it seems likely.”

* * *

 It was crazy to me that I wasn’t surprised to find the Bentley waiting outside my apartment at quarter to five in the morning. The driver who climbed out from behind the wheel when I stepped outside wasn’t familiar to me. He was much younger than Angus; early thirties was my guess. He looked Latino, with rich caramel-hued skin, and dark hair and eyes.

“Thanks,” I told him, when he rounded the front of the vehicle, “but I’ll just grab a cab.”

Hearing that, the night doorman to my building stepped out to the street to flag one down for me.

“Miss. Jauregui said I’m to take you to La Guardia,” the driver said.

“You can tell Miss. Jauregui that I won’t be requiring her transportation services now or in the future.” I moved toward the cab the doorman had hailed, but stopped and turned around. “And tell her to go fuck herself, too.”

I slid into the cab and settled back as it pulled away.

* * *

 I’ll admit to some bias when I say my father stands out in a crowd, but that didn’t make it less true.

As he exited the secure security area, Victor Reyes commanded attention. He was six feet tall, fit and well built, and had the commanding presence of a man who wore a badge. His gaze raked the immediate area around him, always a cop even when he wasn’t on duty. He had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and wore blue jeans with a black button-down shirt. His hair was dark and wavy, his eyes stormy and gray like mine. He was seriously hot in a brooding, dangerous, bad boy sort of way, and I tried to picture him alongside my mother’s fragile, haughty beauty. I’d never seen them together, not even in pictures, and I really wanted to. If only just once.

“Daddy!” I yelled, waving.

His face lit up when he saw me, and a wide smile curved his mouth.

“There’s my girl.” He picked me up in a hug that had my feet dangling above the floor. “I’ve missed you like crazy.”

I started crying. I couldn’t help it. Being with him again was the last emotional straw.

“Hey.” He rocked me. “What’s with the tears?”

I wrapped my arms tighter around his neck, so grateful to have him with me, knowing all the other troubles in my life would fade into the background while he was around.

“I missed you like crazy, too,” I said, sniffling.

We took a cab back to my place. On the ride over, my dad asked me the same sort of investigative questions about Cary’s attack as the detectives had asked Cary in the hospital. I tried to keep him distracted with that discussion when we pulled up outside my building, but it didn’t do any good.

My dad’s eagle eyes took in the modern glass overhang attached to the brick façade of the building. He stared at the doorman, Paul, who touched the brim of his hat and opened the door for us. He studied the front desk and concierge, and rocked back on his heels as we waited for the elevator.

He didn’t say anything and kept his poker face on, but I knew he was thinking about how much my digs must cost in a city like New York. When I showed him into my apartment, his sweeping gaze took in the size of the place. The massive windows had a stunning view of the city, and the flat-screen television mounted on the wall was just one of the many top-of-the-line electronics on display.

He knew I couldn’t afford the place on my own. He knew my mother’s husband was providing for me in ways he would never be able to. And I wondered if he thought about my mother, and how what she needed was also beyond his means.

“The security here is really tight,” I told him by way of explanation. “It’s impossible to get past the front desk if you’re not on the list and a resident can’t be reached to vouch for you.”

My dad exhaled in a rush. “That’s good.”

“Yeah. I don’t think Mom could sleep at night otherwise.”

That made some of the tension leave his shoulders.

“Let me show you to your room.” I led him down the hallway to the guest room suite. It had its own bathroom and mini-bar with fridge. I saw him noting those things before he dropped his duffel on the king-size bed. “Are you tired?”

He looked at me. “I know you are. And you have to work today, don’t you? Why don’t we nap for a bit before you have to get up?”

I stifled a yawn and nodded, knowing I could use the couple of hours of shut-eye. “Sounds good.”

“Wake me when you’re up,” he said, rolling his shoulders back. “I’ll make the coffee while you’re getting ready.”

“Awesome.” My voice came husky with suppressed tears. Lauren almost always had coffee waiting for me on days when she’d spent the night, because she got up before me. I missed that little ritual of ours.

Somehow, I’d have to learn to live without it.

Pushing up onto my tiptoes, I kissed my dad’s cheek. “I’m so glad you’re here, Daddy.”

I closed my eyes and clung tightly when he hugged me.

* * *

 I stepped out of the small market with my bags of grocery ingredients for dinner and frowned at finding Angus idling at the curb. I’d refused a ride in the morning and again when I’d left the Crossfire, and he was still following and shadowing. It was ridiculous. I couldn’t help but wonder if Lauren didn’t want me as a girlfriend anymore, but her neurotic lust for my body meant that she didn’t want anyone else to have me—namely Brett.

As I walked home, I entertained thoughts of having Brett over for dinner instead, imagining Angus having to make that call to Lauren when Brett came strolling up to my place. It was just a quick vengeful fantasy, since I wouldn’t lead Brett on that way and he was in Florida anyway, but it did the trick. My step lightened and when I entered my apartment, I was in my first really good mood in days.

I dumped all the dinner stuff off in the kitchen, then went to find my dad. He was hanging out in Cary’s room playing a video game. Cary worked a nunchuk one-handed, since his other hand was in a cast.

“Woo!” my dad shouted. “Spanked.”

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” Cary shot back, “taking advantage of an invalid.”

“I’m crying a river here.”

Cary looked at me in the doorway and winked. I loved him so much in that moment I couldn’t stop myself from crossing over to him and pressing a kiss to his bruised forehead.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Thank me with dinner. I’m starving.”

I straightened. “I got the goods to make enchiladas.”

My dad looked at me, smiling, knowing I’d need his help. “Yeah?”

“When you’re ready,” I told him. “I’m going to grab a shower.”

Forty-five minutes later, my dad and I were in the kitchen rolling cheese and store-bought rotisserie chicken—my little cheat to save time—into lard-soaked white corn tortillas. In the living room, the CD changer slipped in the next disk and Van Morrison’s soulful voice piped through the surround sound speakers.

“Oh yeah,” my dad said, reaching for my hand and tugging me away from the counter. “Hum-de-rum, hum-de-rum, moondance,” he sang in his deep baritone, twirling me.

I laughed, delighted.

Using the back of his hand against my spine to keep his greasy fingers off me, he swept me into a dance around the island, both of us singing the song and laughing. We were making our second revolution when I noticed the two people standing at the breakfast bar.

My smile fled and I stumbled, forcing my dad to catch me.

“You got two left feet?” he teased, his eyes only on me.

“Camila’s a wonderful dancer,” Lauren interjected, her face arrested in that implacable mask I detested.

My dad turned, his smile fading, too.

Lauren rounded the bar and entered the kitchen. She’d dressed for the occasion in jeans and a Yankees T-shirt. It was a suitably casual choice and a conversation starter, since my dad was a die-hard Padres fan.

“I hadn’t realized she was such a good singer, as well. Lauren Jauregui,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand.

“Victor Cabello.” My dad waved his shiny fingers. “I’m a bit messy.”

“I don’t mind.”

Shrugging, my dad took her hand and sized her up.

I tossed the dish towel to them and made my way over to Ireland, who was positively glowing. Her blue eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed with pleasure.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” I said, hugging her carefully. “You look gorgeous!”

“So do you!”

It was a fib, but I appreciated it anyway. I hadn’t done anything to my face or hair after my shower, because I knew my dad wouldn’t care and I hadn’t expected Lauren to show up. After all, the last time I’d heard from her had been when she’d said she would meet me at Dr. Petersen’s office.

She looked over at the counter where I’d dumped everything. “Can I help?”

“Sure. Just don’t count calories in your head—it’ll explode.” I introduced her to my dad, who was much warmer to her than he was to Lauren, and then I led her to the sink, where she washed up.

In short order, I had her helping to roll the last few enchiladas, while my dad put the already chilled Dos Equis Lauren had brought into the fridge. I didn’t even bother to wonder how Lauren knew I was serving Mexican food for dinner. I only wondered why she’d invest the time to find out when it was very clear she other things to do—like ditch her appointments.

My dad went to his room to wash up. Lauren came up behind me and put her hands on my waist, her lips brushing over my temple. “Camila.”

I tensed against the nearly irresistible urge to lean into her. “Don’t,” I whispered. “I’d rather we didn’t pretend.”

Her breath left her in a rush that ruffled my hair. Her fingers tightened on my hips, kneading for a moment. Then I felt her phone vibrate and she released me, backing away to look at the screen.

“Excuse me,” she said gruffly, leaving the kitchen before answering.

Ireland sidled over and whispered, “Thank you. I know you made her bring me along.”

I managed a smile for her. “Nobody can make Lauren do anything she doesn’t want to.”

“You could.” She tossed her head, throwing her sleek waist-length black hair over her shoulder. “You didn’t see her watching you dance with your dad. Her eyes got all shiny. I thought she was going to cry. And on the way up here, in the elevator, she tried to play it off, but I could totally tell she was nervous.”

I stared down at the can of enchilada sauce in my hands, feeling my heart break a little more.

“You’re mad at her, aren’t you?” Ireland asked.

I cleared my throat. “Some people are just better off as friends.”

“But you said you love her.”

“That’s not always enough.” I turned around to reach the can opener and found Lauren standing at the other end of the island, staring at me. I froze.

A muscle in her jaw twitched before she unclenched it. “Would you like a beer?” she asked gruffly.

I nodded. I could’ve used a shot, too. Maybe a few.

“Want a glass?”

“No.”

She looked at Ireland. “You thirsty? There’s soda, water, milk.”

“How about one of those beers?” she shot back, flashing a winsome smile.

“Try again,” she said wryly.

I watched Ireland, noting how she sparkled when Lauren focused on her. I couldn’t believe she didn’t see how she loved her. Maybe right now it was based on superficial things, but it was there and it would grow with a little encouragement. I hoped she’d work on that.

When Lauren handed me the chilled beer, her fingers brushed mine. She held on for a minute, looking into my eyes. I knew she was thinking about the other night.

It seemed like a dream now, as if her visit never really happened. I could almost believe that I’d made it up in a desperate delusion, so hungry for her touch and her love that I couldn’t go another minute without giving my mind relief from the madness of wanting and craving. If it weren’t for the lingering soreness deep inside me, I wouldn’t know what was real and what was nothing but false hope.

I pulled the beer out of her grasp and turned away. I didn’t want to say we were done and over, but it was certain now that we needed a break from each other. Lauren needed to figure out what she was doing, what she was looking for, and whether I had any meaningful place in her life. Because this roller-coaster ride we were on was going to break me, and I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t.

“Can I help with anything?” she asked.

I answered without looking at her, because doing so was too painful. “Can you see if we can get Cary out here? He’s got a wheelchair.”

“All right.”

She left the room, and I could suddenly breathe deeply again.

Ireland hurried over. “What happened to Cary?”

“I’ll tell you about it while we set the table.”

* * *

 I was surprised I could eat. I think I was too fascinated by the silent showdown between my dad and Lauren to notice that I was stuffing food into my mouth. At one end of the table, Cary was charming Ireland into peals of laughter that kept making me smile. At the other end, my dad sat at the head of the table, with Lauren on his left and me on his right.

They were talking. The conversation had opened with baseball, as I’d expected, then migrated into golf. On the surface, both seemed relaxed, but the air around them was highly charged. I noticed that Lauren wasn’t wearing her expensive watch. She’d planned carefully to appear as “normal” as possible.

But nothing Lauren did on the outside could change who she was on the inside. It was impossible to hide what she was—a dominant person, a captain of industry, a woman of privilege. It was in every gesture she made, every word she spoke, every look she gave.

So she and my father were in the position of struggling to find who would be the alpha, and I suspected I hung in the balance. As if anyone were in control of my life but me.

Still, I understood that my father had only really been allowed to be a dad in the last four years, and he wasn’t ready to give it up. Lauren, however, was jockeying for a position I was no longer prepared to give her.

But she was wearing the ring I’d given her. I tried not to read anything into it, but I wanted to hope. I wanted to believe.

We’d all finished the main course and I was pushing to my feet to clear the table for dessert when the intercom buzzed. I answered.

“Camila? NYPD detectives Graves and Michna are here,” the gal at the front desk said.

I glanced at Cary, wondering if the detectives had found out who’d attacked him. I gave the go-ahead for them to come up and hurried back to the dining table.

Cary looked at me with raised brows, curious.

“It’s the detectives,” I explained. “Maybe they have news.”

My dad’s focus immediately shifted. Honed. “I’ll let them in.”

Ireland helped me clear up. We’d just dumped the cups into the sink when the doorbell rang. I wiped my hands with a dish towel and went out to the living room.

The two detectives who entered weren’t the ones I expected, because they weren’t the ones who’d questioned Cary at the hospital on Monday.

Lauren appeared out of the hallway, shoving her phone into her pocket.

I wondered who’d been calling her all night.

“Camila Cabello,” the female detective said, stepping deeper into my apartment. She was a thin woman with a severe face and sharply intelligent blue eyes, which were her best feature. Her hair was brown and curly, her face clean of makeup. She wore slacks over dark flats, a poplin shirt, and a lightweight jacket that didn’t hide the badge and gun clipped to her belt. “I’m Detective Shelley Graves of the NYPD. This is my partner Detective Richard Michna. We’re sorry to disturb you on a Friday night.”

Michna was older, taller, and portly. His hair was graying at the temples and receding at the top, but he had a strong face and dark eyes that raked the room while Graves focused on me.

“Hello,” I greeted them.

My father shut the door, and something about the way he moved or carried himself caught Michna’s attention. “You on the job?”

“In California,” my dad confirmed. “I’m visiting Camila, my daughter. What’s this about?”

“We’d just like to ask you a few questions, Miss Cabello,” Graves said. She looked at Lauren. “And you, too, Miss. Jauregui.”

“Does this have something to do with the attack on Cary?” I asked.

She glanced at him. “Why don’t we sit down.”

We all moved into the living room, but only Ireland and I ended up taking a seat. Everyone else remained on their feet, with my dad pushing Cary’s wheelchair.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Michna said.

“Thank you.” I looked at Cary, wondering what the hell was going on.

“How long are you in town?” the detective asked my dad.

“Just for the weekend.”

Graves smiled at me. “You go out to California a lot to see your dad?”

“I just moved from there a couple months ago.”

“I went to Disneyland once when I was a kid,” she said. “That was a while ago, obviously. I’ve been meaning to get back out there.”

I frowned, not understanding why we were making small talk.

“We just need to ask you a couple of questions,” Michna said, pulling a notepad out of the interior pocket of his jacket. “We don’t want to hold you up any longer than we have to.”

Graves nodded, her eyes still on me. “Can you tell us if you’re familiar with a man named Nathan Barker, Miss Cabello?”

The room spun. Cary cursed and pushed unsteadily to his feet, taking the few steps to reach the seat beside me. He caught up my hand.

“Miss Cabello?” Graves took a seat on the other end of the sectional.

“He’s her former stepbrother,” Cary snapped. “What’s this about?”

“When’s the last time you saw Barker?” Michna asked.

In a courtroom . . . I tried to swallow, but my mouth was dry as sawdust. “Eight years ago,” I said hoarsely.

“Did you know he was here in New York?”

Oh God. I shook my head violently.

“Where’s this going?” my dad asked.

I looked helplessly at Cary, then at Lauren. My dad didn’t know about Nathan. I didn’t want him to know.

Cary squeezed my hand. Lauren wouldn’t even look at me.

“Miss. Jauregui,” Graves said. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you know Nathan Barker?”

My eyes pleaded with Lauren not to say anything in front of my dad, but she never once glanced my way.

“You wouldn’t be asking that question,” she answered, “if you didn’t already know the answer.”

My stomach dropped. A violent shiver moved through me. Still, Lauren wouldn’t look at me. My brain was trying to process what was happening . . . what it meant . . . what was going on . . .

“Is there a point to these questions?” my father asked.

The blood was roaring in my ears. My heart was pounding with something like terror. The mere thought of Nathan being so close was enough to send me into a panic. I was panting. The room was swimming before my eyes. I thought I might pass out.

Graves was watching me like a hawk. “Can you just tell us where you were yesterday, Miss Cabello?”

“Where I was?” I repeated. “Yesterday?”

“Don’t answer that,” my dad ordered. “This interview isn’t going any further until we know what this is about.”

Michna nodded, as if he’d expected the interruption. “Nathan Barker was found dead this morning.”

[96harmony96]

Chapter 11

I reclined with my eyes closed, my back cradled against Lauren’s chest, listening to the sound of lapping water as her hands glided lazily over me in the claw-foot tub.

She’d washed my hair and then my body, pampering me, spoiling me. I knew she was making up for last night and the method she’d used to get me to face the truth—a truth she’d clearly known but needed me to see as well.

How did she know me so well . . . better than I knew myself?

“Tell me about him,” she murmured, her arms wrapping around my waist.

I took a deep breath. I’d been waiting for her to ask about Brett. I knew Lauren well, too. “First, tell me if he’s okay.”

There was a pause before she answered. “There’s no permanent damage. Would you care if there was?”

“Of course I’d care.” I heard her teeth grind.

“I want to know about you two,” she demanded tightly.

“No.”

“Camila . . .”

“Don’t take that tone with me, Lauren. I’m tired of being an open book for you while you hoard all your secrets.” My head rolled to the side so that my cheek was pressed against her damp chest. “If all I get of you is your body, I’ll take it. But I can’t give you more in return.”

“You mean you won’t. Let’s be—”

“I can’t.” I pulled away from her, twisting so that I faced her. “Look what it’s doing to me! I hurt you last night. On purpose. Without even realizing it, because the resentment is eating at me even while I’m convincing myself that I can live with everything you’re not telling me.”

Sitting up, she spread her arms. “I’m wide open for you, Camila! You’re making it sound like you don’t know me . . . that all we have is sex . . . when you know me better than anyone else.”

“Let’s talk about what I don’t know. Why do you own so much of Vidal Records? Why do you hate your family home? Why are you estranged from your parents? What’s between you and Dr. Terrence Lucas? Where’d you go the other night when I had that nightmare? What’s behind your nightmares? Why—”

“Enough!” she snapped, shoving her hands through her wet hair.

I settled back, watching and waiting as she clearly struggled with herself. “You should know you can tell me anything,” I said softly.

“Can I?” she pierced me with her gaze. “Don’t you have enough to look past as it is? How much shit can I pile on you before you run like hell?”

Laying my arms along the rim of the tub, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. “Okay, then. We’ll just be fuck buddies who bitch to a therapist once a week. Good to know.”

“I screwed her,” she spat. “There. Do you feel better?”

I shot up so fast, water surged over the edge of the tub. My stomach cramped. “You screwed Corinne?”

“No, damn it.” Her face was flushed. “Lucas’s wife.”

“Oh . . .” I remembered the photo I’d found of her through my Google search. “She’s a redhead,” I said lamely.

“My attraction to Anne was based entirely on her relationship to Lucas.”

I frowned, confused. “So things were off between you and Dr. Lucas before you slept with his wife? Or because of it?”

Lauren set her elbow on the side of the tub and scrubbed at her face. “He alienated me from my family. I returned the favor.”

“You broke them up?”

“I broke her.” She exhaled harshly. “She came on to me at a fund-raiser. I brushed her off until I learned who she was. I knew it’d kill Lucas to know I’d banged her, and the opening was there so I took it. It was just supposed to be that once, but Anne contacted me the next day. Because it would hurt him more to know she couldn’t get enough, I let it go on. When she was ready to leave him for me, I sent her back to her husband.”

I stared at her, noting her defiant embarrassment. She would do it again, but she was ashamed of what she’d done.

“Say something!” she snapped.

“Did she think you loved her?”

“No. Fuck. I’m an asshole for nailing another man’s wife, but I didn’t promise her anything. I was screwing Lucas through her—I didn’t expect for her to become collateral damage. I wouldn’t have let it get that far, if I had.”

“Lauren.” I sighed and shook my head.

“What?” She was practically bristling with restless, anxious energy. “Why did you say my name like that?”

“Because you’re ridiculously dense for such a smart girl. You were sleeping with her regularly and didn’t expect her to fall in love with you?”

“Jesus.” Her head fell back with a groan. “Not this again.”

Then she straightened abruptly. “Actually, you know what? You keep on thinking I’m God’s gift to women, angel. It’s better for me if you believe I’m the best you can get.”

I splashed her. The ease with which she dismissed her appeal was another way she mirrored me. We knew our strengths and played up our assets. But we couldn’t see what made us unique enough for someone to really love us.

Lauren lunged forward and caught my hands. “Now, tell me what the fuck you had with Brett Kline.”

“You didn’t tell me what Dr. Lucas did to piss you off.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Not the details,” I argued.

“It’s your turn to spill. Out with it.”

It took me a long time to get the words out. No woman wanted a recovering slut for their girlfriend. But Lauren waited patiently. Obstinately. I knew she wasn’t going to let me get out of the tub until I told her about Brett.

“I was nothing but a convenient fuck for Brett,” I confessed in a rush, wanting to get it over with, “and I put up with it—went out of my way for it—because in that period of my life, sex was the only way I knew how to feel loved.”

“He wrote a love song about you, Camila.”

I looked away. “The truth wouldn’t make much of a ballad, would it?”

“Did you love him?”

“I— No.” I looked at Lauren when she exhaled audibly, as if she’d been holding her breath. “I had a crush on him and the way he sings, but it was totally superficial. I never got to really know him.”

Her entire body visibly relaxed. “He was part of a . . . phase? That’s it?”

I nodded and tried to pull my hands free of hers, wishing I could get past my feelings of shame. I didn’t blame Brett or any of the guys who’d drifted through my life then. I had no one to blame but myself.

“Come here.” Lauren caught me by the waist and pulled me closer, tucking me against her chest again. Her embrace was the most wonderful feeling in the world. Her hands stroked the length of my spine, gentling me. “I won’t lie. I want to beat the hell out of any man who’s had you—you’d be smart to keep them the hell away from me—but nothing in your past can change how I feel about you. And God knows I’m no saint.”

“I wish I could make it go away,” I whispered. “I don’t like remembering the girl I was then.”

She rested her chin atop the crown of my head. “I get it. It didn’t matter how long I showered after I’d been with Anne, it was never long enough to feel clean.”

I tightened my arms around her waist, giving comfort and acceptance. And gratefully accepting both in return.

* * *

 The white silk robe I found hanging in the closet was gorgeous. It was lined with the softest terrycloth and embroidered with silver thread at the cuffs. I loved it, which was a good thing since it was, apparently, the only article of clothing for me in the entire house.

I watched Lauren pull on a pair of black silk pajama pants and tie the drawstring. “Why do you get clothes and I get a robe?”

She glanced up at me through a lock of inky hair that draped over her brow. “Because I’m the one who arranged everything?”

“Fiend.”

“Just makes it easier for me to keep up with your insatiable sexual demands.”

“My insatiable demands?” I headed into the bathroom to take the towel off my head. “I clearly remember begging to be left alone last night. Or was it this morning, after an all-nighter?”

She filled the doorway behind me. “You’ll be begging again tonight, too. I’ll go make some coffee.”

In the mirror, I watched her turn away and saw the darkening bruise on her side. It was low on her back, where I hadn’t had a chance to see it before. I spun around. “Lauren! You’re hurt. Let me see.”

“I’m fine.” She was partway down the stairs before I could stop her. “Don’t take too long.”

Guilt swamped me, and a terrible urge to cry. My hand shook as I ran a wide-toothed comb through my damp hair. The bathroom had been stocked with my usual toiletries, demonstrating once again how thoughtful and attentive Lauren was, which only emphasized my deficits. I was making her life hell. After all she’d already suffered, my issues were the last thing she needed to deal with.

I took the stairs down to the first floor and found myself unable to join Lauren in the kitchen. I needed a minute to pull myself together and put on a happy face. I didn’t want to ruin the weekend for her, too.

I stepped out through the French doors that led to the deck. The roar of the surf and the biting salt spray hit me at once. The hem of my robe whipped gently in the ocean breeze, cooling me in a way I found invigorating.

Taking a deep breath, I gripped the railing and closed my eyes, trying to find the peace I needed to keep Lauren from worrying. My problem was me, and I didn’t want to concern her with something she couldn’t change. Only I could make myself a stronger person, and I needed to, if I wanted to make her happy and offer her the security she so desperately wanted from me.

The door opened behind me, and I took a deep breath before turning to face her with a smile. Lauren came out with two steaming mugs gripped in one hand—one filled with black coffee and the other lightened with half-and-half. I knew it would be made perfectly to my tastes and delicious, because Lauren knew exactly what I liked. Not because I’d told her, but because she paid attention to everything about me.

“Stop beating yourself up,” she ordered sternly, setting the mugs on the railing.

I sighed. Of course I couldn’t hide my mood from her with just a smile. She saw right through me.

She caught my face in her hands and glared down at me. “It’s over and done with. Forget it.”

I reached out and ran my fingertips over the place where I’d seen the bruise.

“It needed to happen,” she said curtly. “No. Shut up and listen to me. I thought I understood your feelings about Corinne, and, frankly, I thought you just weren’t dealing with it well. But I had no clue. I was a self-centered idiot.”

“I’m not dealing with it well. I hate her fucking guts. I can’t think about her without feeling violent.”

“I get it now. I didn’t before.” Her mouth twisted ruefully. “Sometimes it takes something drastic to shake me up. Luckily, you’ve always been very good at getting my attention.”

“Don’t try to tease this away, Lauren. You could’ve been seriously hurt because of me.”

She caught me by the waist when I would’ve turned away. “I was seriously hurt because of you. Seeing you in another guy’s arms, kissing him . . .” Her eyes grew hot and dark. “It shredded me, Camila. Cut me open and left me bleeding. I kicked his ass in self-defense.”

“Oh, God,” I breathed, devastated by her brutal honesty. “Lauren.”

“I’m disgusted with myself for not being more understanding about Corinne. If a kiss could make me feel like that . . .” She wrapped her arms tight around me, one arm banding my hips while the other crossed my back so she could grip the back of my head. Capturing me.

“If you ever cheated on me,” she said hoarsely, “it would kill me.”

Turning my head, I pressed my lips to her throat. “That stupid kiss meant nothing. Less than nothing.”

Her hand gripped my hair and tilted my head back. “You don’t understand what your kisses mean to me, Camila. For you to just give one away and call it stupid—”

Lauren dipped her head and sealed her mouth over mine. It started softly, sweet and teasing, her tongue stroking across my bottom lip. I opened my mouth, my tongue flicking out to touch her. she tilted her head and licked into my mouth. Fast, shallow licks that stirred a simmering desire.

I reached up and slid my fingers into her damp hair, pushing up onto my tiptoes to deepen the kiss. I moaned when she sucked on my tongue, leaning heavily against her. Her lips moved against mine, growing wetter and hotter. We ate at each other, growing wilder by the second until we were fucking each other’s mouths, passionately mating with lips and tongues and tiny bites. I was panting with my hunger for her, my lips slanting over her, needy sounds spilling from my throat.

Her kisses were gifts. She kissed with everything she had, with power and passion and hunger and love. she held nothing back, giving everything, exposing everything.

Tension gripped her powerful frame, her rough satin skin growing feverishly hot. Her tongue was plunging into my mouth, tangling with mine, her quickened breaths mingling with my own and filling my lungs. My senses were drenched in her, in her flavor and scent, my mind spinning as I angled my head, seeking a deeper taste. Wanting to lick deeper, suck harder. Devour.

I wanted her so much.

Her hands ran up and down my spine, trembling and restless. She groaned and my sex tightened in answer. Tugging at the belt of my robe, she loosened it, spreading open the halves to grip my bare hips in her hands. She tugged on my lower lip, sinking her teeth into it, her tongue caressing it. I whimpered, wanting more, my mouth feeling swollen and sensitive.

No matter how close we were, it was never close enough.

Lauren gripped both cheeks of my ass and pulled me up hard against her, her erection like hot steel burning my belly through the thin silk of her pants. She released my lip and took my mouth again, filling me with the taste of her desire and need, her tongue a velvet lash of tormenting pleasure.

A hard shudder shook her and she growled, her hips circling. Her fingers bit into my rear and her groan vibrated against my lips. I felt her cock jerk between us, then scorching warmth spread over my skin. She came with a tormented groan, soaking the silk between us.

I cried out, melting and aching, so insanely aroused by the knowledge that I could make her lose control with just a kiss.

Her grip loosened, her lungs heaving. “Your kisses are mine.”

“Yes. Lauren . . .” I was shaken, left emotionally raw and open by the most erotic moment of my life.

She sank to her knees and tongued me to a shattering climax.

* * *

 We showered and napped the morning away. It felt so good to sleep beside her again, with my head pillowed on her chest, my arm draped over her rock-hard stomach, and my legs tangled with hers.

When we woke shortly after one in the afternoon, I was starving. We headed down to the kitchen together and I found that I liked the ultra-stark modern look in that space. The watered-glass cabinet doors and granite paired beautifully with the dark hardwood. Better yet, the pantry was fully stocked. There was no need to leave the house for anything.

We went the easy route and made sandwiches, which we took into the living room and ate cross-legged on the couch facing each other.

I was halfway through when I caught Lauren watching me with a grin.

“What?” I asked, around a bite.

“Arnoldo’s right. It’s fun watching you eat.”

“Shut up.”

Her grin widened. She looked so carefree and happy it made my heart hurt.

“How did you find this place?” I asked her. “Or how did Scott find it?”

“I found it.” She shoved a potato chip in her mouth and licked the salt from her lips, which I found sexy as hell. “I wanted to take you away to an island, where no one could bother us. This is pretty close to that, without the travel time. I planned for us to fly down originally.”

I ate thoughtfully, remembering the long drive. As insanity-inducing as the trip had been, there was something exciting about the idea of her rearranging our schedule just to fuck me senseless over hours, using my need for her to face a truth I’d blocked. Imagining all the frustration and fury that must have driven her plans . . . her thoughts focused on unleashing all of that seething passion on my helpless, willing body . . .

“You’re getting that fuck-me look on your face,” she observed. “And you call me a sex fiend.”

“Sorry.”

“Not complaining.”

I rewound my thoughts to earlier in the evening. “Arnoldo doesn’t like me anymore.”

One dark brow arched. “You’re getting the fuck-me look and thinking about Arnoldo? Do I have to kick his ass now, too?”

“No. Jeez. I threw that out there to distract us from sex and because it needs to be addressed.”

She shrugged. “I’ll talk to him.”

“I think I should do it, for what it’s worth.”

Lauren studied me with those amazing blue eyes. “What would you say?”

“That he’s right. I don’t deserve you and I fucked up bad. But I’m crazy in love with you and I’d like a chance to prove to you both that I can be what you need.”

“Angel, if I needed you more, I couldn’t function.” She lifted my hand to her lips to kiss my fingertips. “And I don’t care what anyone else thinks. We’ve got our own rhythm and it works for us.”

“Does it work for you?” I grabbed my bottle of iced tea off the coffee table and took a drink. “I know it drains you. Do you ever think it’s just too hard or too painful?”

“You do realize how suggestive that sounds, right?”

“Oh my God.” I laughed. “You’re terrible.”

Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “That’s not what you usually say.”

Shaking my head, I went back to eating.

“I’d rather argue with you, angel, than laugh with anyone else.”

Jesus. It took me a minute to be able to swallow the last bite in my mouth. “You know . . . I love you madly.”

She smiled. “Yes, I know.”

* * *

 After we’d cleaned up the mess from lunch, I tossed the sponge into the sink and said, “I need to make my Saturday phone call to my dad.”

Lauren shook her head. “Not possible. You’ll have to wait ’til Monday.”

“Huh? Why?”

She caged me to the counter by gripping the edge on either side of me. “No phones.”

“Are you serious? What about your cell phone?” I’d left mine at home before we went to the concert, knowing I had no place to carry it and having no intention of using it anyway.

“It’s heading back to New York with the limo. No Internet, either. I had the modem and phones taken out before we got here.”

I was speechless. With all the responsibilities and commitments she had, cutting herself off for the weekend was . . . unbelievable. “Wow. When’s the last time you fell off the face of the earth like this?”

“Hmm . . . that would be never.”

“There have to be at least a half dozen people freaking out because they can’t run something by you.”

She lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. “They’ll deal with it.”

Pleasure surged through me. “I have you all to myself?”

“Completely.” Her mouth curved in a wicked smile. “What will you do with me, angel?”

I smiled back, ecstatically happy. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

* * *

 We went for a walk on the beach.

I rolled up a pair of Lauren’s pajama bottoms and put on my white tank top, which was indecent since my bra was heading back to New York along with Lauren’s cell phone.

“I have died and gone to heaven,” she pronounced, checking out my chest as we strolled along the shore, “where the embodiment of every wet-dream, spank-bank fantasy of my adolescence is real and totally mine.”

I bumped my shoulder into hers. “How do you go from devastatingly romantic to crude in the space of an hour?”

“It’s another one of my many talents.” Her gaze dropped again to the prominent points of my nipples, which were hard from exposure to the ocean breeze. She squeezed my hand and gave an exaggerated happy sigh. “Heaven with my angel. It doesn’t get any better than this.”

I had to agree. The beach was beautiful in a moody, untamed way that reminded me a lot of the woman whose hand I held. The sounds of the surf and the crying of the gulls filled me with a unique sense of contentment. The water was cold on my bare feet, and the wind whipped my hair across my face. It had been a long time since I’d felt so good, and I was grateful to Lauren for giving us this time away to enjoy each other. We were perfect together when we were alone.

“You like it here,” she noted.

“I’ve always loved being close to the water. My mother’s second husband had a lake house. I remember walking along the shore like this with her and thinking I’d buy something on the water for myself one day.”

She released my hand and draped her arm around my shoulders instead. “So let’s do it. How about this place? You like it?”

I glanced up at her, loving the sight of the wind sifting through her hair. “Is it for sale?”

She looked down the stretch of beach in front of us. “Everything’s for sale at the right price.”

“Do you like it?”

“The interior’s a little cold with all that white, although I like the master bedroom the way it is. We could change all the rest. Make it more us.”

“Us,” I repeated, wondering what that would be. I loved her apartment with its old world elegance. I think she felt comfortable at my place, which was more modern traditional. Combining the two . . . “Big step, buying a property together.”

“Inevitable step,” she corrected. “You told Dr. Petersen failure isn’t an option.”

“Yep, I did.” We walked a little farther in silence. I tried to figure out how I felt about Lauren wanting to have a more tangible tie between us. I also wondered why she’d choose joint property ownership as the way to achieve it. “So I take it you like it here, too?”

“I like the beach.” She brushed her hair back from her face. “There’s a picture of me and my father building a sand castle on a beach.”

It was a miracle my steps didn’t falter. Lauren volunteered so little information about her past that when she did, it was nearly an earthshaking event. “I’d like to see it.”

“My mother has it.” We took a few more steps before she said, “I’ll get it for you.”

“I’ll go with you.” She hadn’t told me why yet, but she’d told me once that the Vidal home was a nightmare for her. I suspected that whatever was at the root of her parasomnia had taken place there.

Lauren’s chest expanded on a deep breath. “I can have it couriered.”

“All right.” I turned my head to kiss her bruised knuckles where they rested on my shoulder. “But my offer stands.”

“What did you think of my mother?” she asked suddenly.

“She’s very beautiful. Very elegant. She seemed gracious.” I studied her, seeing Elizabeth Vidal’s inky black hair and stunning blue eyes. “She also seems to love you a lot. It was in her eyes when she looked at you.”

She kept looking straight ahead. “She didn’t love me enough.”

My breath left me in a rush. Because I didn’t know what had given her such tormenting nightmares, I’d wondered if maybe she’d loved her too much. It was a relief to know that wasn’t the case. It was awful enough that her father committed suicide. To be betrayed by her mother, too, might be more than she could ever recover from.

“How much is enough, Lauren?”

Her jaw tightened. Her chest expanded on a deep breath. “She didn’t believe me.”

I came to a dead stop and pivoted to face her. “You told her what happened to you? You told her and she didn’t believe you?”

Her gaze was trained over my head. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s long done.”

“Bullshit. It matters. It matters a lot.” I was furious for her. Furious that a mother hadn’t done her job and stood by her child. Furious that the child had been Lauren. “I bet it hurts like fucking hell, too.”

Her gaze lowered to my face. “Look at you, so pissed off and upset. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You should’ve said something earlier.”

The tension in her shoulders eased and her mouth curved ruefully. “I haven’t told you anything.”

“Lauren—”

“And of course you believe me, angel. You’ve had to sleep in a bed with me.”

I grabbed her face in my hands and stared hard up into her eyes. “I. Believe. You.”

Her face contorted with pain for a split second before she picked me up in a bear hug. “Camila.”

I slung my legs around her waist and wrapped my arms around her shoulders. “I believe you.”

* * *

 When we got back to the house, Lauren went into the kitchen to open a bottle of wine and I perused the bookshelves in the living room, smiling when I came across the first book in the series I’d told her about, the one where’d I’d picked up her nickname, ace.

We sprawled on the couch and I read to her while she played absently with my hair. She was in a pensive mood after our walk, her mind seemingly far from me. I didn’t resent that. We’d given each other a lot to think about over the last couple of days.

When the tide came in, it did indeed rush up under the house, which sounded amazing and looked even more so. We stepped out onto the deck and watched it ebb and flow, turning the house into an island in the surf.

“Let’s make s’mores,” I said, while leaning over the railing with Lauren wrapped around my back. “On that portable patio fireplace.”

Her teeth caught my earlobe and she whispered, “I want to lick melted chocolate off your body.”

Yes, please . . . I teased her, “Wouldn’t that burn?”

“Not if I do it right.”

I turned to face her, and she picked me up and sat me on the wide handrail. Then she stepped between my legs and hugged me around the hips. There was a wonderful peace that accompanied the twilight and we both sank into it. I ran my hands through her hair, just as the night breeze did.

“Have you talked to Ireland at all?” I asked, thinking of her half sister who was as beautiful as their mother. I’d met her at a Vidal Records party, and it became evident pretty quickly that she was hungry for any word or news about her eldest sister.

“No.”

“What do you think about bringing her over for dinner when my dad’s in town?”

Lauren’s head tilted to the side as she observed me. “You want to invite a seventeen-year-old to dinner with me and your dad.”

“No, I want your family to meet my family.”

“She’ll be bored.”

“How would you know?” I challenged. “In any case, I think your sister hero-worships you. As long as you pay attention to her, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”

“Camila.” She sighed, clearly exasperated. “Be real. I haven’t the slightest idea how to entertain a teenage girl.”

“Ireland’s not some random kid, she’s—”

“She might as well be!” She scowled at me.

It struck me then. “You’re afraid of her.”

“Come on,” she scoffed.

“You are. She scares you.” And I doubted it had anything to do with her sister’s age or that she was a girl.

“What’s gotten into you?” she complained. “You’re stuck on Ireland. Leave her alone.”

“She’s the only family you’ve got, Lauren.” And I was willing to support that choice. Her half-brother Christopher was an asshole, and her mother didn’t deserve to have her in her life.

“I have you!”

“Baby.” I sighed and wrapped my legs around her. “Yes, you’ve got me. But there’s room for more people who love you in your life.”

“She doesn’t love me,” she muttered. “She doesn’t know me.”

“I think you’re wrong about that, but if not, she’d love you if she knew you. So let her know you.”

“Enough. Let’s go back to talking about s’mores.”

I tried to stare her down, but it was impossible. When she considered a subject exhausted, there was no continuing it. So I’d have to go around it instead.

“You wanna talk about s’mores, ace?” I traced my lower lip with my tongue. “All that melty gooey chocolate on our fingers.”

Lauren’s gaze narrowed.

I ran my splayed fingers over his shoulders and down his chest. “I could be persuaded to let you smear that chocolate all over me. I could also be persuaded to smear some all over you.”

Her brow arched. “Are you trying to bribe me with sex again?”

“Did I say that?” I blinked innocently. “I don’t think I said that.”

“It was implied. So let’s be clear.” Her voice was dangerously low, her eyes dark as her hand slid up under the hem of my tank top and cupped my bare breast. “I’ll invite Ireland to dinner with your father because it’ll make you happy and that makes me happy.”

“Thank you,” I said breathlessly, because she’d begun to tug rhythmically on my nipple, making me whimper in delight.

“I’m going to do whatever the hell I want with melted chocolate and your body because it’ll please me and that will please you. I say when, I say how. Repeat that.”

“You say—” I gasped as her mouth wrapped around my other nipple through the ribbed cotton. “Oh, God.”

She nipped me with her teeth. “Finish.”

My entire body tightened, so quick to respond to that authoritative tone. “You say when. You say how.”

“There are things you can bargain with, angel, but your body and sex aren’t negotiable.”

My hands clutched her hair, an instinctive response to her relentless, delicious milking of my sensitive nipple. I gave up trying to understand why I wanted her in control. I just did. “What else can I bargain with? You have everything.”

“Your time and attention are the two things you can leverage. I’ll do anything for them.”

A shiver moved through me. “I’m wet for you,” I whispered.

Lauren stepped away from the railing, carrying me with her. “Because that’s how I want you.”

[96harmony96]

Chapter 14

I hardly slept all night. I tossed and turned, drifting in and out of consciousness. The frequent nurse visits to check on Cary also woke me. His brain scans and lab reports were looking good and there was nothing absolutely definitive to worry about, but I hadn’t been there for him when he’d first gotten hurt. I felt like I needed to be there for him now, sleep or no sleep.

Just before six, I gave up and got out of bed.

Grabbing my tablet and wireless keyboard, I headed down to the cafeteria for coffee. I pulled up a chair at one of the tables and prepared to write a letter to Lauren. In the short amounts of time I’d managed to pin her down the last couple of days, I hadn’t been able to get my thoughts across to her. Writing it all out would have to be the way it got done. Maintaining steady, open communication was the only way we were going to survive as a couple.

I sipped my coffee and began typing, starting with my thanks for the beautiful weekend away and how much it meant to me. I told her how I thought our relationship had taken a massive leap forward during the trip, which only made the week’s backslide harder to bear—

“Camila. What a pleasant surprise!”

Turning my head, I found Dr. Terrence Lucas standing behind me holding a disposable coffee cup like the one I’d filled for myself. He was dressed for work in slacks and tie with a white lab coat. “Hi,” I greeted him, hoping I hid my wariness.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, rounding me.

“Not at all.”

I watched him take the seat beside me, and I refreshed my memory of his appearance. His hair was pure white, without a hint of gray, but his handsome face was unlined. His eyes were an unusual shade of green and they were keen with intelligence. His smile was both reassuring and charming. I suspected he was popular with his patients—and their mothers.

“There has to be some special reason,” he began, “for you to be in the hospital long before visiting hours.”

“My roommate’s here.” I didn’t volunteer any more information, but he guessed.

“So Lauren Jauregui threw her money around and made arrangements for you.” He shook his head and took a sip of his coffee. “And you’re grateful. But what will it cost you?”

I sat back, offended on Lauren’s behalf that her generosity was reduced to having an ulterior motive. “Why do you two dislike each other so much?”

His eyes lost their softness. “She hurt someone very close to me.”

“Your wife. She told me.” I could tell that startled him. “But that wasn’t the beginning, was it? That was a result.”

“You know what she did, and you’re still with her?” Lucas set his elbows on the table. “She’s doing the same thing to you. You look exhausted and depressed. That’s part of the game to her, you know. She’s an expert at worshipping a woman as if she needs her to breathe. Then suddenly she can’t bear the sight of her.”

The statement was a painfully accurate description of my present reality with Lauren. My pulse quickened.

His gaze slid to my throat, then back to my face. His mouth curved in a mocking, knowing smile. “You’ve experienced what I’m talking about. She’s going to continue to play with you until you rely on her mood to gauge your own. Then she’ll get bored and dump you.”

“What happened between you?” I asked again, knowing that was key.

“Lauren Jauregui is a narcissistic sociopath,” he went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “I believe she’s a misogynist. She uses her money to seduce women, then despises them for being shallow enough to find her wealth attractive. She uses sex to control, and you never know what sort of mood you’ll find her in. That’s part of the rush—when you’re always steeling yourself for the worst, you psych yourself up for a surge of relief when she’s at her best.”

“You don’t know her,” I said smoothly, refusing to take the bait. “And neither does your wife.”

“Neither do you.” He sat back and drank his coffee, appearing as unruffled as I tried to be. “No one does. She’s a master manipulator and liar. Don’t underestimate her. She’s a twisted, dangerous woman capable of just about anything.”

“The fact that you won’t explain her grudge against you makes me think you’re at fault.”

“You shouldn’t make assumptions. There are some things I’m not at liberty to discuss.”

“That’s convenient.”

He sighed. “I’m not your adversary, Camila, and Jauregui doesn’t need anyone to fight her battles. You don’t have to believe me. Frankly, I’m so bitter I wouldn’t believe me if I were in your place. But you’re a beautiful, smart young lady.”

I hadn’t been lately, but it was my responsibility to fix that. Or walk.

“If you take a step back,” he continued, “and look at what she’s doing to you, how you’re feeling about yourself since you’ve been with her, and whether you’re truly fulfilled by your relationship, you’ll come to your own conclusions.”

Something beeped and he pulled his smartphone out of his coat pocket. “Ah, my latest patient has just entered the world.”

He pushed to his feet and looked down at me, setting his hand on my shoulder. “You’ll be the one who gets away. I’m glad.”

I watched him walk briskly out of the cafeteria and collapsed into the seat back the moment he disappeared from view, deflating from exhaustion and confusion. My gaze moved to the sleeping screen of my tablet. I didn’t have the energy to finish my letter.

I packed up and went to get ready for Angus’s arrival.

* * *

 “You up for Chinese?”

I looked up from the layout of the blueberry coffee ad on my desk into the warm brown eyes of my boss. I realized it was Wednesday, our usual day to go eat with Steven.

For a second, I considered bowing out and eating at my desk because I wanted to make Lauren happy. But just as quickly, I knew I’d resent her if I did. I was still trying to build a new life in New York, which included making friends and having plans that existed outside the life I shared with her.

“Always up for Chinese,” I said. My very first meal with Mark and Steven had been Chinese takeout here in the office, on a night when we’d worked well past closing and Steven had stopped by to feed us.

Mark and I headed out at noon, and I refused to feel guilty about something I enjoyed so much. Steven was waiting for us at the restaurant, seated at a round table with a lacquered lazy Susan in the middle.

“Hey, you.” He greeted me with a big bear hug, then pulled a chair out for me. He studied me as we both sat down. “You look tired.”

I guessed I must really look like shit, since everyone kept telling me that. “It’s been a rough week so far.”

The waitress came by and Steven ordered a dim sum appetizer and the same dishes we’d shared for that first late-evening meal—kung pao chicken and broccoli beef. When we were alone again, Steven said, “I didn’t know your roommate was gay. Did you tell us that?”

“He’s bi, actually.” I realized Steven, or someone he knew, must have seen the same newspaper Cary had showed me. “I don’t think it came up.”

“How’s he feeling?” Mark asked, looking genuinely concerned.

“Better. He might be coming home today.” Which was something that had been weighing on me all morning, since Lauren hadn’t called to tell me definitively one way or the other.

“Let us know if you need any help,” Steven said, all traces of levity gone. “We’re here for you.”

“Thank you. It wasn’t a hate crime,” I clarified. “I don’t know where the reporter got that. I used to respect journalists. Now, so few of them do their homework, and fewer still can write objectively.”

“I’m sure it’s tough living in the media spotlight.” Steven squeezed my hand on the table. He was a gregarious, playful fellow, but beneath that fun exterior was a solid man with a kind heart. “But then you have to kinda expect it when you’re juggling rock stars and billionaires.”

“Steven,” Mark scolded, frowning.

“Ugh.” My nose wrinkled. “Shawna told you.”

“Of course she did,” Steven said. “Least she can do after not inviting me along to the concert. But don’t worry. She’s not a gossip. She won’t be telling anyone else.”

I nodded, having no anxiety about that. Shawna was good people, but it was still embarrassing having my boss know I’d kissed one person while dating another.

“Not that it would be a bad thing for Jauregui to get a taste of her own medicine,” Steven muttered.

I frowned, confused. Then I caught Mark’s sympathetic gaze.

I realized the gay newspaper wasn’t the only news they’d seen. They must have seen the photos of Lauren and Corinne, too. I felt my face flush with humiliation.

“She’ll get a taste,” I muttered. “If I have to cram it down her throat.”

Steven’s brows shot up, and then he laughed and patted my hand. “Get her, girl.”

* * *

 I’d barely returned to my desk when my work phone rang.

“Mark Garrity’s office, Camila—”

“Why is it so damn difficult for you to follow orders?” Lauren asked harshly.

I just sat there, staring at the collage of photos she’d given me, pictures of us looking connected and in love.

“Camila?”

“What do you want from me, Lauren?” I asked quietly.

There was a moment of silence, then she exhaled. “Cary will be moved to your apartment this afternoon under the supervision of his doctor and a private nurse. He should be there when you get home.”

“Thank you.” Another stretch of quiet filled the line between us, but she didn’t hang up. Finally, I queried, “Are we done?”

The question had a double meaning. I wondered if she caught that or even cared.

“Angus will give you a ride home.”

My grip tightened on the phone. “Good-bye, Lauren.”

I hung up and got back to work.

* * *

 I checked on Cary the minute I got home. His bed had been moved aside and propped vertically against the wall to make room for a hospital bed that he could adjust at will. He was asleep when I came in, his nurse sitting in a new recliner and reading an e-book. It was the same nurse I’d seen the first night in the hospital, the pretty and exotic-looking one who had trouble taking her eyes off Lauren.

I wondered when she’d spoken to her—if she’d done it herself or sent someone else to do it—and whether she’d agreed for the money or for Lauren or both.

The fact that I was too tired to care one way or another said a lot about my own disconnection. Maybe there were people out there whose love could survive anything, but mine was fragile. It needed to be nurtured in order to thrive and grow.

I took a long, hot shower, then crawled into bed. I pulled my tablet onto my lap and tried to continue my letter to Lauren. I wanted to express my thoughts and reservations in a mature and cogent way. I wanted to make it easy for her to understand my reactions to some of the things she did and said, so she could see things from my point of view.

In the end, I didn’t have the energy.

I’m not elaborating any more, I wrote instead, because if I keep going, I’ll beg. And if you don’t know me well enough to know that you’re hurting me, a letter isn’t going to fix our problems.

I’m desperate for you. I’m miserable without you. I think about the weekend, and the hours we spent together, and I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t do to have you like that again. Instead, you’re spending time with HER, while I’m alone on my fourth night without you.

Even knowing you’ve been with her, I want to crawl on my knees for you and beg for scraps. A touch. A kiss. One tender word. You’ve made me that weak.

I hate myself like this. I hate that I need you this much. I hate that I’m so obsessed with you.

I hate that I love you.

Camila

I attached it to an e-mail with the subject line My thoughts—uncensored and hit send.

* * *

 “Don’t be afraid.”

I woke to those three words and utter darkness. The mattress dipped as Lauren sat beside me, leaning over me with her arms bracketing my body and the blankets between us, a cocoon and barrier that allowed my mind to wake without fear. The delicious and unmistakable fragrance of her soap and shampoo mixed with the scent of her skin, soothing me along with her voice.

“Angel.” She took my mouth, her lips slanting over mine.

I touched her chest with my fingers, feeling bare skin. She groaned and stood, bending over me so her mouth stayed connected to mine while she yanked the blankets off and away.

Then she was settling over me, her body nude and hot to the touch. Her ardent mouth moved down my throat, her hands pushing up my camisole so she could get to my breasts. Her lips surrounded my nipple and she suckled, her weight supported by one forearm on the mattress, her other hand pushing between my legs.

She cupped my sex, her fingertip gliding over the satin along the seam of my cleft. Her tongue flickered over my nipple, making it hard and tight, her teeth sinking lightly into the taut flesh.

“Lauren!” Tears slid in rivulets down my temples, the protective numbness I’d felt earlier falling away, leaving me exposed. I’d been withering without her, the world around me losing its vibrancy, my body hurting from its separation from hers. Having her with me . . . touching me . . . was like rain in a drought. My soul unfurled for her, opening wide to soak her in.

I loved her so much.

Her hair tickled my skin as her open mouth slid over my cleavage, her chest expanding as she breathed me in, nuzzling and wallowing in my scent. She captured the tip of my other breast with hard, deep suction. The pleasure shot through me, echoing in the clenching of my sex against her teasing fingertip.

She moved down my torso, licking and nibbling a path across my stomach, the breadth of her shoulders forcing my legs wider until her hot breath gusted over my slick cleft. Her nose pressed against the wet satin, stroking me. She inhaled with a groan.

“Camila. I’ve been starved for you.”

With impatient fingers, Lauren shoved the crotch of my panties aside and her mouth was on me. She held me open with her thumbs, her tongue lashing over my throbbing clit. My back arched with a cry, all my senses painfully acute without the benefit of sight. Tilting her head, she thrust into the quivering opening of my sex, fucking rhythmically, teasing me with shallow plunges.

“Oh God!” I writhed with the pleasure, my core clenching and releasing with the first tingles of orgasm.

I came in a violent rush, sweat misting my skin, my lungs burning as I fought for breath. Her lips were around my trembling opening, sucking, her tongue delving. She was eating me with an intensity I was helpless against. The flesh between my legs was so swollen and sensitive, so vulnerable to her ravenous hunger. I was climaxing again within moments, my nails scouring the sheets.

My eyes were opened and blinded by darkness when she ripped my underwear off me and crawled over me. I felt the wide crest of her cock notch into my cleft, and then she lunged, driving deep into me with an animalistic growl. I cried out, shocked by her aggression, turned on by it.

Lauren reared up, resting back on her heels, my thighs splayed over hers. She gripped my hips, elevating them, tilting me to the angle she wanted. She rolled her hips, stirring her cock inside me, pulling me onto her until I gasped in pain at how deep she was. The lips of my sex clung to the very base of her penis, spread wide to encompass the thick root. I had all of her, every inch, crammed too full and loving it. I’d been empty for days, so lonely I ached.

She groaned my name and came, spurting hot and thick, the creamy heat spreading upward along her length because there was no room inside me. She shuddered violently, dripping sweat onto my skin, flooding me. “For you, Camila,” she gasped. “Every drop.”

Pulling out abruptly, she flipped me over onto my belly and yanked my hips up. I gripped my headboard, my damp face pressed into my pillow. I waited for her to push into me and shivered when I felt her breath against my buttocks. Then I jerked violently at the feel of her licking along the seam. She rimmed me with the tip of her tongue, stimulating the puckered opening to my rear.

A broken sound escaped me. I don’t do anal play, Camila.

The tight ring of muscle flexed as I remembered her words, helplessly responding to the delicate flutters. There was nothing in our bed but us. Nothing could touch us when we were touching each other.

Lauren squeezed both of my cheeks in her hands, grounding me in the moment. I was open and parted for her in every way, completely exposed to her lush dark kiss.

“Oh!” I tensed all over. Her tongue was inside me, thrusting. My entire body began to quake from the feeling, my toes curling, my lungs heaving as she possessed me without shame or reservation. “Ah . . . God.”

I lifted into her mouth, giving myself to her. The affinity between us was brutal and raw, nearly unbearable. I felt seared by her desire, my skin feverish, my chest shaking with sobs I couldn’t hold back.

She reached beneath me, pressed the flat of her fingers against my aching clit and rubbing, massaging. Her tongue was driving me insane. The orgasm brewing inside me was spurred by the knowledge that there were no longer any boundaries for her with my body. She would do anything she desired—possess it, use it, pleasure it. Burying my face in my pillow, I screamed as I came, the ecstasy so vicious my legs gave out and I melted into the mattress.

Lauren slid over my back, her knee pushing my legs wide, her perspiration-slick body blanketing mine. She mounted me, pushing her cock inside me, her fingers linking with mine and pinning my hands to the bed. I was soaked with her and she rocked against me, sliding in and out.

“I’m desperate for you,” she said hoarsely. “I’m miserable without you.”

I tensed. “Don’t mock me.”

“I need you as much baby.” She nuzzled into my hair, fucking me slow and easy. “I’m just as obsessed. Why can’t you trust me?”

I squeezed my eyes shut, hot tears leaking out. “I don’t understand you. You’re tearing me apart.”

She turned her head and her teeth sank into the top of my shoulder. A pained growl rumbled through her chest and I felt her coming, her cock jerking as it pumped me full of scorching semen.

Her jaw relaxed, releasing me. She panted, her hips still churning. “Your letter gutted me.”

“You won’t talk to me . . . you won’t listen . . .”

“I can’t.” She groaned, her arms tightening around mine so that I was completely at her mercy. “I just . . . It has to be this way.”

“I can’t live like this, Lauren.”

“I’m hurting, too, Camila. It’s killing me, too. Can’t you see that?”

“No.” I cried, my pillow growing wet beneath my cheek.

“Then stop overthinking and feel it! Feel me.”

The night passed in a blur. I punished her with greedy hands and teeth, my nails raking over sweat-slick skin and muscle until she hissed in pleasured pain.

Her lust was frantic and insatiable, her need tinged with a desperation that frightened me because it felt hopeless. It felt like good-bye.

“Need your love,” she whispered against my skin. “Need you.”

She touched me everywhere. She was constantly inside me, with her cock or her fingers or her tongue.

My nipples burned, made raw by her sucking. My sex throbbed and felt bruised from her wild, hard drives. My skin was chafed from the stubble that prickled over her pelvis. My jaw ached from sucking her thick cock. My last memory was of her spooned behind me, her arm banded around my waist as she filled me from behind, both of us sore and exhausted and unable to stop.

“Don’t let go,” I begged, after I’d sworn I wouldn’t.

When I woke to my alarm, she was gone.

[96harmony96]

Chapter 9

I hurried through the security turnstiles of the Crossfire and grinned when I saw Cary waiting for me in the lobby.

“Hey, you,” I greeted him, admiring how he managed to make worn jeans and a V-neck T-shirt look expensive.

“Hey, stranger.” He held out his hand to me and we stepped out of the building through the side door hand-in-hand. “You’re looking happy.”

The noonday heat hit me like a physical barrier. “Ugh. It’s hot as hell. Let’s pick somewhere close. You up for tacos?”

“Hell yeah.”

I took him to the little Mexican place Megumi had introduced me to and tried not to let him see how guilty his greeting made me feel. I hadn’t been home in a couple of days and Lauren was planning a weekend trip away, which meant it would be another few days before I hung out with Cary again. It had been a relief when he’d agreed to meet me for lunch. I didn’t want to go too long without checking in with him and making sure he was all right.

“Got any plans tonight?” I asked, after ordering for both of us.

“One of the photographers I’ve worked with is having a birthday bash tonight. I figured I’d pop in for a bit and see how it goes.” He rocked back on his heels as we waited for our tacos and blended virgin margaritas. “You still planning on hanging with your boss’s sister? You guys wanna come with?”

“Sister-in-law,” I corrected. “And she’s got concert tickets. I’m her last hope, she said, but even if I wasn’t, I think it’ll be fun. At least I hope so. I’ve never heard of the band, so I’m just hoping they don’t suck.”

“Who is it?”

“Six-Ninths. Know ’em?”

His eyes widened. “Six-Ninths? Really? They’re good. You’ll like them.”

I grabbed our drinks off the counter and left the tray with our plates for him to carry. “You’ve heard of them and Shawna’s a big fan. Where have I been?”

“Under Jauregui and her hard place. You taking her with you?”

“Yes.” I hurried to grab a table as two businessmen stood to leave. I didn’t tell Cary about Lauren’s assertion that I couldn’t go without her. I knew that wouldn’t go over well with Cary, which made me wonder why I’d let it go as easily as I did. Usually Cary and I agreed about stuff like that.

“Can’t see Jauregui liking alt rock.” Cary sank fluidly into the chair across from me. “Does she know how much you like it? Especially the musicians who play it?”

I stuck my tongue out at him. “I can’t believe you brought that up. Ancient history.”

“So? Brett was hot. Ever think about him?”

“With shame.” I picked up one of the carne asada tacos. “So I try not to.”

“He was a decent guy,” Cary said, before slurping up a hefty swallow of margarita-flavored slush.

“I’m not saying he wasn’t. He just wasn’t good for me.” Just thinking about that time in my life made me want to squirm in embarrassment. Brett Kline was hot and he had a voice that made me wet just hearing it, but he was also one of the prime examples of an unfortunate choice in my previously sordid love life. “Moving on . . . You talk to Trey lately?”

Cary’s smile faded. “This morning.”

I waited patiently.

Finally, he sighed. “I miss him. Miss talking to him. He’s so fucking smart, you know? Like you. He’s going to that party with me tonight.”

“As friends? Or as a date?”

“These are really good.” He chewed a bite of one of his tacos before replying. “We’re supposed to be going as friends, but you know I’ll probably screw that up and fuck him. I asked him to meet me there and to head home from there so we’re not alone, but I can always bang him in the bathroom or a goddamn maintenance closet. I have no willpower and he can’t say no to me.”

My heart hurt at his dejected tone.

“I know what that’s like,” I reminded him softly. That’d been me once. I’d been so desperate to feel connected with somebody. “Why don’t you . . . you know . . . take care of it beforehand. Maybe that’ll help.”

A slow, mischievous smile spread across his handsome face. “Can I get you to record that for my voicemail message?”

I threw my wadded-up napkin at him.

He caught it with a laugh. “You can be such a prude sometimes. I love it.”

“I love you. And I want you to be happy.”

Lifting my hand to his lips, he kissed the back. “I’m working on it, baby girl.”

“I’m here if you need me, even if I’m not home.”

“I know.” He squeezed my hand before releasing it.

“I’ll be around a lot next week. Gotta get ready for my dad’s visit.” I bit into a taco and my feet did a little happy tap dance at how delicious it was. “I wanted to ask you about Friday. I’ve got to work, so if you’re around, would you keep an eye on him? I’ll stock up on the food he likes and leave him some city maps, but—”

“No problem.” Cary winked at a pretty blonde as she walked by. “He’ll be in good hands.”

“Want to see a show with us while he’s in town?”

“Camila honey, I’m always game to hang with you. Just let me know where and when, and I’ll keep things clear as much as possible.”

“Oh!” I quickly chewed and swallowed. “Mom told me she saw your pretty mug on the side of a bus the other day.”

He grinned. “I know. She forwarded a pic she’d taken with her phone. Awesome, right?”

“Beyond. We’ll need to celebrate,” I said, stealing his signature line.

“Hell yeah.”

* * *

 “Whoa!” Shawna paused on the sidewalk outside her Brooklyn apartment complex and gaped at the limousine idling in the street. “You went all out.”

“Not me,” I said dryly, checking out her tight red shorts and strategically slashed Six-Ninths screened T-shirt. Her bright hair had been pulled up and teased, and her lips were painted to match her shorts. She looked hot and ready to party, and I felt vindicated in my clothing choice of ultra-short black leather pleated skirt, fitted white ribbed tank top, and cherry red sixteen-eye Doc Martens.

Lauren, who’d had her back to us while talking to Angus, turned to face us, and I found myself as dumbstruck now as I’d been when I first saw her after she had showered and changed. She wore loose-fitting black jeans and a plain black T-shirt with heavy black boots and somehow made the severely casual combination look so fucking sexy, I wanted to jump her bones. As Dark and Dangerous as she was in a pantsuit, she was even more so when ready to rock. She looked younger and every bit as mouthwateringly gorgeous.

“Holy shit, tell me that’s for me,” Shawna whispered, gripping my wrist like a vise.

“Hey, you’ve got your own. That one’s mine.” And it gave me a huge thrill to say so. Mine to claim, to touch, to kiss. And later on, to fuck to exhaustion. Oh yeah . . .

She laughed when I rocked onto my tiptoes in anticipation. “All right. I’ll settle for an introduction.”

I did the honors, then waited for her to hop into the limo first. I was about to climb in after her when I felt Lauren’s hand slide up beneath my skirt to squeeze my butt.

She pressed against my back and whispered in my ear, “Make sure I’m standing behind you when you bend over, angel, or I’ll be spanking this pretty ass.”

Turning my head, I leaned my cheek against hers. “My period’s over.”

She growled, her fingertips biting into the flesh of my hip. “Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?”

“Delayed gratification, ace,” I told her, using a phrase she’d once tormented me with. I was laughing at her curse when I dropped onto the bench seat beside Shawna.

Angus slid behind the wheel and we headed out, breaking into a bottle of Armand de Brignac on the way. By the time we pulled up to Tableau One, a hot new fusion bistro that had a healthy line out front and energetic music pouring out onto the street, the combination of the champagne and Lauren’s hot gaze on the nearly indecent hemline of my skirt had me feeling giddy.

Shawna slid forward on the seat and stared wide-eyed through the tinted windows. “Doug tried to get us in here before he left, but the waiting list is two months long. You can walk up, but the wait can be hours and there’s no guarantee you’ll be seated.”

The limo door opened and Angus helped her out, then me. Lauren joined us, taking my arm as if we were dressed for a gala and not a rock concert. We were escorted inside so quickly, with the manager being so gushy and welcoming, that I looked at Lauren and mouthed, One of yours?

“Yes, in partnership.”

I just sighed, reconciled to the inevitable. “Is your friend going to meet us for dinner?”

Lauren gestured with an easy nod of her chin. “He’s already here.”

I followed her gaze to an attractive man sporting blue jeans and a Six-Ninths T-shirt. The gentleman was acting as the focal point in a photo op with two pretty women on each side. He smiled wide for the person wielding a smartphone camera, then waved at Lauren and excused himself.

“Oh my God.” Shawna bounced on her feet. “That’s Arnoldo Ricci! He owns this place. And he’s got a show on the Food Network!”

Lauren released me to clasp hands with Arnoldo and engage in the backslapping ritual of close friends. “Arnoldo, my girlfriend, Camila Camila.”

I extended my hand and Arnoldo grabbed it, pulled me closer, and kissed me straight on the mouth.

“Back off,” Lauren snapped, tugging me behind her.

Arnoldo grinned, his dark eyes flashing with humor. “And who’s this vision?” he asked, turning to Shawna and lifting her hand to his lips.

“Shawna, this will be your escort, Arnoldo Ricci, if he manages to survive dinner.” Lauren shot her friend a warning look. “Arnoldo, Shawna Ellison.”

She practically glowed. “My boyfriend’s a huge fan of yours. I am, too. He made your lasagna recipe once and it was. To. Die. For.”

“Lauren told me your man is in Sicily now.” Arnoldo’s voice was flavored with a delicious accent. “I hope you can make the time to visit with him there.”

My gaze darted to Lauren, knowing damn well I’d never given her that much information about Shawna’s boyfriend. She glanced down at me with a look of mock innocence and an almost imperceptible smirk.

I shook my head, exasperated, but I couldn’t deny that this would be a night Shawna would never forget.

The next hour passed in a blur of excellent food and fine wine. I was polishing off an extraordinary zabaione with raspberries when I caught Arnoldo watching me with a wide smile.

“Bellissima,” he praised. “Always a joy to see a woman with a healthy appetite.”

I flushed, slightly embarrassed. I couldn’t help it; I loved food.

Lauren draped her arm along the back of my chair and toyed with the hair at my nape. Her other hand lifted a glass of red wine to her mouth and when she licked her lips, I knew she was thinking about tasting me instead. Her desire was charging the air between us. I had been falling under its spell all through dinner.

Reaching beneath the tablecloth, I cupped her cock through her jeans and squeezed. She went from semihard to stone instantly but gave no other outward indication of her arousal.

I couldn’t help but see that as a challenge.

I began to stroke the rigid length of her with my fingers, careful to keep my movements slow and easy to prevent detection. To my delight, Lauren continued her conversation without a hitch in her voice or change of expression. Her control excited me, made me bolder. I reached for her button fly, turned on by the thought of releasing her and stroking her skin on skin.

Lauren took another leisurely sip, then set her wineglass down.

“Only you, Arnoldo,” she said dryly in response to something her friend had said.

My wrist was caught just as I tugged at the top button of her jeans. She lifted my hand to her lips, the gesture appearing to be an absentminded show of affection. The quick nip of her teeth into the pad of my finger caught me by surprise and made me gasp.

Arnoldo smiled; it was the knowing and slightly mocking smile one bachelor gave to another who’d been caught by a woman. He said something in Italian. Lauren replied, her pronunciation sounding fluid and sexy, her tone wry. Arnoldo threw his dark head back and laughed.

I squirmed in my seat. I loved seeing Lauren like this, relaxed and enjoying herself.

She looked at my empty dessert plate, then at me. “Ready to go?”

“Oh, yes.” I was dying to see how the rest of the night would go, how many more sides of Lauren I’d get to discover. Because I loved this side of the woman as much as I loved the powerful businesswoman in the suit and the dominant lover in my bed and the broken child who couldn’t hide her tears and the tender partner who held me when I cried.

She was so complex and still a huge mystery to me. I’d barely scratched the surface of who she was. Which didn’t stop me from being in too deep.

* * *

 “These guys are good!” Shawna yelled as the opening act barreled headlong into their fifth song.

We’d left our seats after the third, working our way through a writhing crowd to the railing that divided the seating area from the mosh pit in front of the stage. Lauren surrounded me, her arms caging me on both sides, her hands gripping the rail. The audience pressed in around us, collectively pushing forward, but I was cushioned from it by her body, just as Shawna was by Arnoldo beside us.

I was sure Lauren could have gotten us way better seats, but I didn’t have to tell her that the way Shawna had scored her fan-only tickets and the fact that she’d invited us meant her seats were our only option. I loved her for understanding that and for going with the flow.

Turning my head, I looked at her. “Is this band with Vidal, too?”

“No. But I like them.”

I was stoked that she was enjoying the show. Lifting my arms in the air, I screamed, feeling pumped by the energy of the crowd and the driving beat. I danced within the circle of Lauren’s arms, my body drenched in sweat, my blood raging.

When the act was done, the stagehands quickly set to work breaking down the equipment and setting up for Six-Ninths. Grateful for the evening, for the joy, for the awesomeness of going wild with the woman I loved, I turned and threw my arms around Lauren’s neck, mashing my lips to hers.

She lifted me and urged my legs around her waist, kissing me violently. She was hard and pressing against me, luring me to grind into her. Around us people whistled and catcalled things that ranged from “Get a room” to “Fuck her, man!” but I didn’t care and neither did Lauren, who seemed as swept away by the sensual craziness as I was. Her hand on my buttocks rocked me into her erection while the other fisted in my hair, holding me where she wanted me as she kissed me as if she couldn’t stop, as if she were starving for the taste of me.

Our open mouths slid desperately across each other. She tongued me deep and fast, fucking my mouth, making love to it. I drank her in, licking and tasting, moaning at her insatiable need. She sucked on my tongue, the circle of her lips sliding along it. It was too much. I was slick and aching for her cock, nearly frantic with the need to feel her filling me.

“You’re going to make me come,” she growled, before tugging on my bottom lip with her teeth.

I was so into her and the ferocity of her passion for me that I barely registered when Six-Ninths started. It wasn’t until the vocals kicked in that I was jolted back to where I was.

I stiffened, my mind clawing its way up through the fog of desire to process what I was hearing. I knew the song. My eyes opened as Lauren pulled back. Over her shoulder I saw handwritten signs held up in the air.

BRETT KLINE IS MINE! And BANG ME, BRETT! And my personal favorite, BRETT, I’D HIT IT WITH YOU LIKE THE WRATH OF GOD!!!

Hell. What were the chances?

And Cary had known, of course. He’d known and hadn’t warned me. Probably thought it’d be hysterical for me to find out by accident instead.

My legs loosened from around Lauren’s hips and she set me down, protecting me from the frenzied fans with the shield of her body. I turned to face the stage, feeling a mad fluttering in my belly. Sure enough, it was Brett Kline at the mic, his deep, powerful, sexy-as-hell voice pouring over the thousands who’d come to see him in action. His short hair was spiked and tipped with platinum, his lean body clothed in olive cargo pants and a black tank top. It was impossible to see from where I was, but I knew his eyes were a brilliant emerald green, his face was ruggedly handsome, and his killer smile revealed a dimple that drove women crazy.

Tearing my eyes away from him, I looked at the other band members, recognizing all of them. They hadn’t been called Six-Ninths back in San Diego, though. They’d been called Captive Soul then, and I wondered what had led to the name change.

“Good, aren’t they?” Lauren asked with her mouth to my ear so I could hear her. She had one hand on the railing and the other around my waist, keeping me pulled up tight against her as she moved to the music. The combination of her body and Brett’s voice did insane things to my already raging sex drive.

I closed my eyes, focusing on the woman behind me and the unique rush I’d always felt while listening to Brett sing. The music throbbed through my veins, bringing back memories—some good and some bad. I swayed in Lauren’s arms, desire pounding through me. I was achingly aware of her hunger. It poured off her like heat waves, sinking into me, making me crave her until the physical distance between us was painful.

Grabbing the hand she had pressed flat against my stomach, I urged it downward.

“Camila.” Her voice was harsh with lust. I’d been pushing her all night, from the moment I told her my period was over, to the hand job beneath the restaurant table, to the scorching kiss in the intermission.

She gripped my bare thigh and squeezed. “Open.”

I set my left foot on the bottom of the railing. My head fell back against her shoulder and a heartbeat later, her hand was under my skirt. Her tongue traced the shell of my ear, her breathing hard and fast. I felt her groan as much as heard it when she discovered how wet I was.

One song blended into another. Lauren rubbed me through the crotch of my boyshorts, moving in circles, then vertically through my cleft. My hips rolled into her touch, my core clenching, my ass grinding into the hard ridge of her erection. I was going to come right there, inches away from dozens of people, because that was what Lauren did to me. That was how insanely she turned me on. Nothing mattered when her hands were on me, her attention completely riveted to me.

“That’s it, angel.” Her fingers pushed my underwear aside and two sank into me. “I’m going to fuck this gorgeous cunt for days.”

With bodies pressing in all around us, music pounding over us, and privacy granted only by distraction, Lauren slid her fingers deep into my soaked sex and stayed there. The solid, unmoving penetration drove me wild. I ground my hips into her hand, working toward the orgasm I needed so desperately.

The song ended and the lights went out. Drenched in darkness, the crowd roared. Anticipation weighted the audience, building until the strum of guitar strings broke the heavy expectation. Shouts rang out, then lighters flickered to life, turning the sea of people into thousands of fireflies.

A spotlight hit the stage, revealing Brett sitting on a bar stool, shirtless and glistening with sweat. His chest was hard and defined, his abs ridged with muscle. He lowered the height of the microphone stand and the piercings in his nipples glittered with his movements. The women in the audience screamed, including Shawna, who jumped in place and gave an ear splitting whistle.

I totally got it. Sitting there as he was, with his feet propped on the rungs of the chair and his muscular arms covered in sleeves of black and gray tattoos, Brett looked insanely sexy and extremely fuckable. For six months nearly four years ago I’d debased myself to get him naked every chance I could, so infatuated with him and desperate to be loved that I took whatever scraps he threw me.

Lauren’s fingers began to slide in and out of me. The bass kicked in. Brett began to sing a song I’d never heard before, his voice low and soulful, the words crystal clear. He had the voice of a fallen angel. Mesmerizing. Seductive. And the face and body to enhance the temptation.

Golden girl, there you are.

I’m singing for the crowd, the music’s loud.

I’m living my dream, riding the high,

But I see you there, sunlight in your hair,

And I’m ready to go, desperate to fly.

Golden girl, there you are.

Dancing for the crowd, the music’s loud.

I want you so bad. I can’t look away.

Later, you’ll drop to your knees. You’ll beg me please.

And then you’ll go, it’s only your body I know.

Golden girl, where’d you go?

You’re not there, with sunlight in your hair.

I could have you in the bar or the back of my car,

But never your heart. I’m falling apart.

I’ll drop to my knees, I’ll beg you. Please.

Please don’t go. There’s so much more I want to know.

Camila, please. I’m on my knees.

Golden girl, where’d you go?

I’m singing for the crowd, the music’s loud.

And you’re not there, with sunlight in your hair.

Camila, please. I’m on my knees.

 The spotlight went dark. A long moment passed as the music faded. Then the lights came back on and the drums exploded with sound. The flames winked out and the crowd went crazy.

But I was lost to the roaring in my ears, the tightness in my chest, and a confusion that had me reeling.

“That song,” Lauren growled in my ear, her fingers fucking me forcefully, “makes me think of you.”

Her palm pressed into my clit and massaged, and I climaxed in a rush that took me by storm. Tears came to my eyes. I cried out, shaking in her arms. Gripping the railing in front of me, I held on and let the unstoppable pleasure pulse through me.

* * *

 When the show was over, all I could think about was getting to a phone and calling Cary. While we waited for the crowd to thin, I leaned heavily into Lauren, drawing support from the strength of her arms around me.

“You okay?” she asked, running her hands up and down my back.

“I’m fine,” I lied. Honestly, I didn’t know how I was feeling. It shouldn’t matter that Brett wrote a song about me that painted a different light on our fuck-buddy history. I was in love with someone else.

“I want to go, too,” she murmured. “I’m dying to get inside you, angel. I can barely think straight.”

I pushed my hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “So let’s get out of here.”

“I’ve got backstage access.” She kissed the tip of my nose when I leaned back to look up at her. “We don’t have to tell them, if you’d rather get out of here.”

I seriously debated it for a moment. After all, the night had been great as it was, thanks to Lauren. But I knew it’d bother me later, if I denied Shawna and Arnoldo—who was also a Six-Ninths fan—something they’d remember for the rest of their lives. And I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to myself that I wanted to catch a glimpse of Brett up close. I didn’t want him to see me, but I wanted to see him. “No. Let’s take them back there.”

Lauren grabbed my hand and spoke to our friends, whose excitement over the news gave me the excuse to say I’d done it solely for them. We headed down toward the stage, then off to the side of it, where Lauren spoke to the massive man acting as security. When the guy spoke into the mic of his headset, Lauren pulled out her cell and told Angus to bring the limo around to the back. While she spoke, her eyes met mine. The heat in them and the promise of pleasure took my breath away.

“Your woman is the ultimate,” Shawna said, eyeing Lauren with a look of near reverence. It wasn’t a predatory look, just an appreciative one. “I can’t believe this night. I owe you big-time for this.”

She pulled me in for a quick, hard hug. “Thank you.”

I hugged her back. “Thank you for inviting me.”

A tall, rangy man with blue streaks in his hair and stylish black-framed glasses approached us. “Miss. Jauregui,” he greeted Lauren, extending his hand. “I didn’t know you’d be coming tonight.”

Lauren shook the man’s hand. “I didn’t tell you,” she replied smoothly, reaching her other hand out to me.

I caught it and he pulled me forward, introducing me to Robert Phillips, Six-Ninths’ manager. Shawna and Arnoldo were introduced next; then we were led back through the wings, where activity was high and groupies loitered.

I suddenly didn’t want to catch even a glimpse of Brett. It was so easy to forget how it’d been between us while I was listening to him sing. It was so easy to want to forget after listening to the song he’d written. But that time in my past was something I was far from proud of.

“The band’s right in here,” Robert was saying, gesturing to an open door from which music and raucous laughter poured out. “They’ll be excited to meet you.”

My feet dug in suddenly and Lauren paused, glancing at me with a frown.

I pushed up onto my toes and whispered, “I’m not all that interested in meeting them. If you don’t mind, I’m going to hit the backstage bathroom and head out to the limo.”

“Can you wait a few minutes and I’ll go with you?”

“I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.”

She touched my forehead. “Are you feeling alright angel? You look flushed.”

“I’m feeling great. I’ll show you exactly how great as soon as we get home.”

That did the trick. Her frown faded and her mouth curved. “I’ll hurry this along, then.” She looked at Robert Phillips and gestured at Arnoldo and Shawna. “Can you take them in? I need a minute.”

“Lauren, really . . .” I protested.

“I’m walking you over there.”

I knew that tone. I let her walk me the twenty feet to the bathroom. “I can take it from here, ace.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Then we’ll never get out of here. Go do your thing. I’ll be fine.”

She gave me a very patient look. “Camila, I’m not leaving you alone.”

“I can manage. Seriously. The exit is right there.” I pointed down the hall to the open double doors beneath a lighted exit sign. Roadies were already transporting equipment out. “Angus is right out there, isn’t he?”

Lauren leaned her shoulder into the wall and crossed her arms.

I threw up my hands. “Okay. Fine. Have it your way.”

“You’re learning, angel,” she said with a smile.

Muttering under my breath, I went into the bathroom and took care of business. As I washed up at the sink, I looked into the mirror and winced. I had raccoon eyes from sweating so damn much and my pupils were dark and dilated.

“What does she see in you?” I asked myself derisively, thinking of how awesome she still looked. As hot and sweaty as she’d been, she looked none the worse for wear, while I looked damp and limp. But more so than my exterior, it was my personal failings I was thinking of. I couldn’t get away from them. Not while Brett was in the same building with us.

I rubbed a dampened square of paper towel under my eyes to get rid of the black smudges, then headed back out to the hall. Lauren waited a few feet away, talking with Robert, or more accurately, listening to him. The band’s manager was clearly excited about something.

Lauren spotted me and held up a hand to get me to wait a minute, but I didn’t want to take the risk. I gestured down the hall at the exit, then turned and headed that way before she could stall me. I hurried past the green room door, chancing a quick glance inside to see Shawna laughing with a beer in her hand. The room was packed and boisterous, and she looked like she was having a great time.

I made my escape with a sigh of relief, feeling ten times lighter the moment I left. Spotting Angus standing next to Lauren’s limo on the far side of the line of buses, I waved and set off toward him.

Looking back on the night, I was tantalized by how uninhibited Lauren had been. She sure as hell hadn’t been the woman who’d used mergers and acquisitions as parlance for getting me into bed.

I couldn’t wait to get her naked.

A burst of flame in the darkness to my right startled me. I jolted to a halt and watched Brett Kline lift a match to the clove cigarette hanging from his lips. As he stood in the shadows to the side of the exit, the flickering light of the flame caressed his face and threw me back in time for a long minute.

He glanced up, caught me in his gaze, and froze. We stared at each other. My heart kicked into a mad beat, a combination of excitement and apprehension. He cursed suddenly, shaking out the match as it burned his fingers.

I took off, struggling to maintain a casual pace as I made a beeline for Angus and the limo.

“Hey! Hold up,” Brett shouted. I heard his footsteps approaching at a jog, and adrenaline surged through me. A roadie was pushing a flat hand truck loaded with heavy gear and I darted around him, using him as cover to duck between two buses. I pressed my back flat against the side of one, standing between two open cargo compartments. I cringed into the shadows, feeling like a coward, but knowing I had nothing to say to Brett. I wasn’t the girl he knew anymore.

I watched him rush by. I decided to wait, give him time to look and give up. I was hyper aware of the time passing, of the fact that Lauren would be looking for me soon.

“Camila.”

I flinched at the sound of my name. Turning my head, I found Brett approaching from the other side. While I’d been looking to the right, he’d come up on the left.

“It is you,” he said roughly. He dropped his clove smoke on the ground and crushed it beneath his boot.

I heard myself saying something familiar. “You should quit.”

“So you keep telling me.” He approached cautiously. “You saw the show?”

I nodded and stepped away from the bus, backing up. “It was awesome. You guys sound really great. I’m happy for you.”

He took a step forward for every one of mine backward. “I was hoping I’d find you like this, at one of the shows. I had a hundred different ideas about how it might go if I saw you at one.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. The tension between us was so thick it was hard to breathe.

The attraction was still there.

It was nothing like what I felt with Lauren. Nothing more than a shadow of that, but it was there nonetheless.

I retreated back out into the open, where the activity was high and there were lots of people milling around.

“Why are you running?” he asked. In the pool of light from a parking lot lamp, I saw him clearly. He was even better looking than before.

“I can’t . . .” I swallowed. “There’s nothing to say.”

“Bullshit.” The intensity of his glare burned through me. “You stopped coming around. Didn’t say a word, just stopped showing up. Why?”

I rubbed at the knot in my stomach. What was I going to say? I finally grew a pair and decided I deserved better than to be one of the many chicks you fucked in a bathroom stall between sets?

“Why, Camila? We had something going and you just fucking disappeared.”

Turning my head, I looked for Lauren or Angus. Neither was anywhere in sight. The limo waited alone. “It was a long time ago.”

Brett lunged forward and caught me by the arms, startling me, briefly frightening me with the sudden aggressive movement. If we hadn’t been so near other people, it might have triggered panic.

“You owe me an explanation,” he bit out.

“It’s not—”

He kissed me. He had the softest lips, and he sealed them over mine and kissed me. By the time I registered what was happening, he’d tightened his grip on my arms and I couldn’t move away. Couldn’t push him away.

And for a brief span of time I didn’t want to.

I even kissed him back, because the attraction was still there and it soothed something hurting inside me to think I might’ve been more than a convenient piece of ass. He tasted like cloves, smelled seductively like hard working male, and he took my mouth with all the passion of a creative soul. He was familiar, in very intimate ways.

But in the end, it didn’t matter that he got to me still. It didn’t matter that we had a history, painful as it was for me. It didn’t matter that I was flattered and affected by the lyrics he’d written, that after six months of watching him enjoy other women while nailing me anywhere with a door that locked, it was me he was thinking about when he seduced screaming-for-it women from the stage.

None of that mattered because I was madly in love with Lauren Jauregui, and she was what I needed.

I wrenched away with a gasp—

—and faced Lauren charging at a dead run, her speed unchecked as she rammed into Brett and took him down.

*Sorry for the long wait. Forgot I was even converting this. Let me know if there are any mistakes. enjoy!! 

[96harmony96]

Chapter 7

I don’t remember much of what happened after we arrived. Camera flashes burst around us like fireworks as we walked the length of the press gauntlet, but I scarcely paid them any mind, smiling by rote. I was drawn into myself and desperate to get away from the tension radiating in waves from Lauren.

The moment we crossed over into the building, someone called her name and she turned. I slipped away, darting around the rest of the guests clogging the carpeted entrance.

When I reached the reception hall, I snatched two glasses of champagne from a passing server and searched for Cary as I tossed one back. I spotted him on the far side of the room with my mom and Stanton, and I crossed to them, discarding my empty glass on a table as I passed it.

“Camila!” My mother’s face lit up when she saw me. “That dress is stunning on you!”

She air-kissed each of my cheeks. She was gorgeous in a shimmering, fitted column of icy blue. Sapphires dripped from her ears, throat, and wrist, highlighting her eyes and her pale skin.

“Thank you.” I took a gulp of champagne from my second glass, remembering that I’d planned on expressing gratitude for the dress. While I still appreciated the gift, I was no longer so happy about the convenient thigh slit.

Cary stepped forward, catching my elbow. One look at my face and he knew I was upset. I shook my head, not wanting to get into it now.

“More champagne, then?” he asked softly.

“Please.”

I felt Lauren approaching before I saw my mother’s face light up like the New Year’s ball in Times Square. Stanton, too, seemed to straighten and gather himself.

“Camila.” Lauren set her hand on the bare skin of my lower back and a shock of awareness moved through me. When her fingers flexed against me, I wondered if she felt it, too. “You ran off.”

I stiffened against the reproof I heard in her tone. I shot her a look that said everything I couldn’t while we were in public. “Richard, have you met LaurenJauregui?”

“Yes, of course.” The two shook hands.

Lauren pulled me closer to her side. “We share the good fortune of escorting the two most beautiful women in New York.”

Stanton agreed, smiling indulgently down at my mother.

I tossed back the rest of my champagne and gratefully exchanged the empty glass for the fresh one Cary handed me. There was a slight warmth growing in my belly from the alcohol and it loosened the knot that had formed there.

Lauren leaned over and whispered harshly, “Don’t forget you’re here with me.”

SHe was mad? What the hell? My gaze narrowed. “You’re one to talk.”

“Not here, Camila.” sHe nodded at everyone and led me away. “Not now.”

“Not ever,” I muttered, going along with her just to spare my mother a scene.

Sipping my champagne, I slid into an autopilot mode of self-preservation I hadn’t had to use in many years. Lauren fintroduced me to people and I supposed I performed well enough—spoke at the appropriate moments and smiled when necessary—but I wasn’t really paying attention. I was too conscious of the icy wall between us and my own hurt anger. If I’d needed any proof that Lauren was rigid about not socializing with women she slept with, I had it.

When dinner was announced, I went with her into the dining room and poked at my food. I drank a few glasses of the red wine they served with the meal and heard Lauren talking to our tablemates, although I didn’t pay attention to the words, only to the cadence and the seductively deep, even tone. SHe made no attempt to draw me into the conversation and I was glad. I didn’t think I could say anything nice.

I didn’t become engaged until she stood to a round of applause and took the stage. Then I turned in my seat and watched her cross to the podium, unable to help admiring her animal grace and stunning good looks. Every step she took commanded attention and respect, which was a feat, considering her easy and unhurried stride.

She looked none the worse for wear after our abandoned fucking in her limo. In fact, she seemed like a totally different person. SHe was once again the woman I’d met in the Crossfire lobby, supremely contained and quietly powerful.

“In North America,” she began, “childhood sexual abuse is experienced by one in every four women and one in every six men. Take a good look around you. Someone at your table is either a survivor or knows someone who is. That’s the unacceptable truth.”

I was riveted. Lauren was a consummate orator, her vibrant baritone mesmerizing. But it was the topic, which hit so close to home, and her passionate and sometimes shocking way of discussing it, that moved me. I began to thaw, my bewildered fury and damaged self-confidence subverted by wonder. My view of her shifted, altering as I became simply another individual in a rapt audience. SHe wasn’t the man who’d so recently hurt my feelings; she was just a skilled speaker discussing a subject that was deeply important to me.

When she finished, I stood and applauded, catching both her and myself by surprise. But others quickly joined me in the standing ovation and I heard the buzz of conversations around me, the quietly voiced compliments that were well deserved.

“You’re a fortunate young lady.”

I turned to look at the woman who spoke, a lovely redhead who appeared to be in her early forties. “We’re just…friends.”

Her serene smile somehow managed to argue with me.

People began stepping away from their tables. I was about to grab my clutch so I could leave for home when a young man came up to me. His wayward auburn hair inspired instant envy and his eyes of grayish-green were soft and friendly. Handsome and sporting a boyish grin, he lured the first genuine smile out of me since the ride over in the limousine.

“Hello there,” he said.

He seemed to know who I was, which put me in the awkward position of pretending I wasn’t clueless as to who he was. “Hello.”

He laughed, and the sound was light and charming. “I’m Christopher Vidal, Lauren’s brother.”

“Oh, of course.” My face heated. I couldn’t believe I’d been so lost in my own pity party that I hadn’t made the connection at once.

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m sorry.” I offered a sheepish smile. “Not sure how to say I read an article about you without sounding awkward.”

He laughed. “I’m flattered you remembered it. Just don’t tell me it was in Page Six.”

The gossip column was notorious for getting the goods on New York celebrities and socialites. “No,” I said quickly. “Rolling Stone, maybe?”

“I can live with that.” He extended his arm to me. “Would you like to dance?”

I glanced over to where Lauren was standing at the foot of the stairs that led to the stage. SHe was surrounded by people eager to talk to her, many of whom were women.

“You can see she’ll be awhile,” Christopher said, with a note of amusement.

“Yes.” I was about to look away when I recognized the woman standing next to Lauren—Magdalene Perez.

I picked up my clutch and managed a smile for Christopher. “I’d love to dance.”

Arm-in-arm we headed into the ballroom and stepped onto the dance floor. The band began the first strains of a waltz and we moved easily, naturally into the music. He was a skilled dancer, agile and confident in his lead.

“So, how do you know Lauren?”

“I don’t.” I nodded at Cary when he glided by with a statuesque blonde. “I work in the Crossfire and we’ve run into each other once or twice.”

“You work for her?”

“No. I’m an assistant at Waters Field and Leaman.”

“Ah.” He grinned. “Ad agency.”

“Yes.”

“Lauren must really be into you to go from meeting you once or twice to dragging you out on a date like this.”

I cursed inwardly. I’d known assumptions would be made, but I wanted more than ever to avoid further humiliation. “Lauren’s acquainted with my mother and she’d already arranged for me to come, so it’s just a matter of two people going to the same event in one car rather than two.”

“So you’re available?”

I took a deep breath, feeling uncomfortable despite how fluidly we moved together. “Well, I’m not taken.”

Christopher flashed his charismatic boyish grin. “My night just took a turn for the better.”

He filled the rest of the dance with amusing anecdotes about the music industry that made me laugh and took my mind off lauren.

When the dance ended, Cary was there to take the next one. We danced very well as a couple because we’d taken lessons together. I relaxed into his hold, grateful to have him as moral support.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” I asked him.

“I pinched myself during dinner when I realized I was sitting next to the top coordinator for Fashion Week. And she flirted with me!” He smiled, but his eyes were haunted. “Whenever I find myself in places like this…dressed like this…I can’t believe it. You saved my life, Camila. Then you changed it completely.”

“You save my sanity all the time. Trust me, we’re even.”

His hand tightened on mine, his gaze hardening. “You look miserable. How’d she fuck up?”

“I think I did that. We’ll talk about it later.”

“You’re afraid I’ll kick her ass here in front of everyone.”

I sighed. “I’d rather you didn’t, for my mom’s sake.”

Cary pressed his lips briefly to my forehead. “I warned her earlier. SHe knows it’s coming.”

“Oh, Cary.” Love for him tightened my throat even as reluctant amusement curved my lips. I should’ve known Cary would give Lauren a big brother threat of some sort. That was just so like him.

Lauren appeared beside us. “I’m cutting in.”

It wasn’t a request.

Cary stopped and looked at me. I nodded. He backed away with a bow, his gaze hot and fierce on Lauren’s face.

Lauren pulled me close and took over the dance the way she took over everything—with dominant confidence. It was an entirely different experience dancing with her than with my two previous partners. Lauren had both the expertise of her brother and Cary’s familiarity with the way my body moved, but Lauren had a bold, aggressive style that was inherently sexual.

It didn’t help that being so close to a woman I’d so recently been intimate with seduced my senses despite my unhappiness. SHe smelled scrumptious, with undertones of sex, and the way she led me through the bold sweeping steps made me feel the soreness deep inside me, reminding me that she’d been there not long ago.

“You keep running off,” she muttered, scowling down at me.

“Seemed like Magdalene picked up the slack quick enough.”

Her brow arched and she drew me closer. “Jealous?”

“Seriously?” I looked away.

SHe made a frustrated noise. “Stay away from my brother, Camila.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

My temper ignited, which felt good after all the self-recrimination and doubts I’d been drowning in since we’d screwed like feral bunnies. I decided to see if turnabout was fair play in Lauren Jauregui’s world. “Stay away from Magdalene, Lauren.”

Her jaw tightened. “She’s just a friend.”

“Meaning you haven’t slept with her…? Yet.”

“No, damn it. And I don’t want to. Listen—” The music wound down and she slowed. “I have to go. I brought you here, and I would prefer to be the one who takes you home, but I don’t want to pull you away if you’re enjoying yourself. Would you rather stick around and go home with Stanton and your mother?”

Enjoying myself? Was she kidding or clueless? Or worse. Maybe she’d written me off so completely that she wasn’t paying attention to me at all.

I pushed away from her, needing the distance. Her scent was messing with my head. “I’ll be fine. Forget about me.”

“Camila.” SHe reached for me and I stepped back quickly.

An arm came around my back and Cary spoke. “I’ve got her, Jauregui.”

“Don’t get in my way, Taylor,” Lauren warned.

Cary snorted. “I get the impression you’re doing a smokin’ job of that all by yourself.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “You gave a wonderful speech, Lauren. It was the highlight of my evening.”

She sucked in a sharp breath at the implied insult; then shoved a hand through her hair. Abruptly, she cursed and I realized why when ahe pulled her vibrating phone out of her pocket and glanced at the screen.

“I have to go.” Her gaze caught mine and held it. Her fingertips drifted over my cheek. “I’ll call you.”

And then she was gone.

“Do you want to stay?” Cary asked quietly.

“No.”

“I’ll take you home, then.”

“No, don’t.” I wanted to be alone for a bit. Soak in a hot bath with a bottle of cool wine and pull myself out of my funk. “You should be here. It could be good for your career. We can talk when you get home. Or tomorrow. I’m going the couch potato route all day.”

His gaze darted over my face, searching. “You sure?”

I nodded.

“All right.” But he looked unconvinced.

“If you could go out and ask a valet to have Stanton’s limo brought around, I’ll run to the ladies’ room real quick.”

“Okay.” Cary ran his hand down my arm. “I’ll get your shawl from the coatroom and see you out front.”

It took longer to get to the restroom than it should have. For one, a surprising number of people stopped me for small talk, which had to be because I was Lauren Jauregui's date. And two, I avoided the nearest ladies’ room, which had a steady flow of women pouring in and out of it, and I found one located farther away. I locked myself in a stall and took a few moments longer to finish my business than absolutely required. There was no one else in the room besides the attendant, so there was no one to rush me.

I was so hurt by Lauren it was hard to breathe and I was so confused by her mood swings. Why had she touched my face like that? Why had she gotten mad when I didn’t stay by her side? And why the hell had she threatened Cary? Lauren gave new meaning to the old adage about “running hot and cold.”

Closing my eyes, I shored up my composure. Jesus. I didn’t need this.

I’d bared my emotions in the limo and I still felt horribly vulnerable—a state I’d spent countless therapy hours learning to avoid. I wanted nothing more than to be home and hidden, freed from the pressure of acting like I was completely pulled together when I was anything but.

You set yourself up for this, I reminded myself. Suck it up.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped out and was resigned to finding Magdalene leaning against the vanity with her arms crossed. She was clearly there for me, lying in wait at a time when my defenses were already weak. My step faltered; then I recovered and made my way to the sink to wash my hands.

She turned to face the mirror, studying my reflection. I studied her, too. She was even more gorgeous in person than she’d been in her photos. Tall and slender, with big dark eyes and a cascade of straight blonde

hair. Her lips were lush and red, her cheekbones high and sculpted. Her dress was modestly sexy, a flowing sheath of creamy satin that contrasted beautifully with her olive skin. She looked like a fucking supermodel and exuded an exotic sex appeal.

I accepted the hand towel the bathroom attendant handed me, and Magdalene spoke to the woman in Spanish, asking her to give us some privacy. I capped the request with, “Por favor, gracias.” That earned me an arched brow from Magdalene and a closer examination, which I returned with equal coolness.

“Oh, dear,” she murmured, the moment the attendant stepped out of earshot. She made a tsking noise that scraped over my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. “You’ve fucked her already.”

“And you haven’t.”

That seemed to surprise her. “You’re right, I haven’t. You know why?”

I pulled a five-spot out of my clutch and dropped it in the silver tip tray. “Because she doesn’t want to.”

“And I don’t want to either, because she can’t commit. She’s young, gorgeous, rich, and she’s enjoying it.”

“Yes.” I nodded. “She certainly did.”

Her gaze narrowed, her pleasant expression slipping slightly. “She doesn’t respect the women she fucks. The minute she shoved her dick in you, you were done. Just like all the others. But I’m still here, because I’m the one she wants to keep around for the long haul.”

I maintained my cool even though the blow had been a perfect hit right where the most damage could be done. “That’s pathetic.”

I walked out and didn’t stop until I reached Stanton’s limousine. Squeezing Cary’s hand as I got in, I managed to wait until the car pulled away from the curb to start crying.

____

“Hey, baby girl,” Cary called out when I shuffled into the living room the next morning. Dressed in nothing but a loose pair of old sweats, he was stretched out on the couch with his feet crossed and propped on the coffee table. He looked beautifully disheveled and comfortable in his own skin. “How’d you sleep?”

I gave him the thumbs-up and headed into the kitchen for coffee. I paused by the breakfast bar, my brows lifting at the massive arrangement of red roses on the counter. The fragrance was divine and I inhaled it with a deep breath. “What’s this?”

“They came for you about an hour ago. A Sunday delivery. Pretty and super pricey.”

I plucked the card off the clear plastic stake and opened it.

“I’m still thinking about you.

Lauren”

“From Jauregui?” Cary asked.

“Yes.” My thumb brushed over what I assumed was her handwriting. It was bold and masculine and sexy. A romantic gesture for a girl who didn’t have romance in her repertoire. I dropped the card on the counter as if it’d burned me and fetched a mug of coffee, praying caffeine would give me strength and restore my common sense.

“You don’t seem impressed.” He lowered the volume on the football game he was watching.

“SHe’s bad news for me. SHe’s like one giant trigger. I just need to stay away from her.” Cary had been through therapy with me and he knew the drill. He didn’t look at me funny when I broke things down into therapeutic jargon, and he didn’t have any trouble shooting it back to me the same way.

“The phone’s been ringing all morning, too. I didn’t want it to disturb you, so I shut the volume off.”

Aware of the lingering ache between my legs, I curled up on the couch and fought the compulsion to listen to our voice mail to see if Lauren had called. I wanted to hear her voice, and an explanation that would make sense of what happened last night. “Sounds good to me. Let’s leave it off all day.”

“What happened?”

I blew steam off the top of my mug and took a tentative sip. “I fucked her brains out in her limo and she turned arctic afterward.”

Cary watched me with those worldly emerald eyes, eyes that had seen more than anyone should be subjected to. “Rocked her world, did you?”

“Yeah, I did.” And I got riled up just thinking about it. We’d connected. I knewit. I’d wanted her more than anything last night, and today I wanted nothing to do with her ever again. “It was intense. The best sexual experience of my life, and she was right there with me. I know she was. First time she’d ever made it in a car, and she was kind of resistant at first, but then I got her so hot for it she couldn’t say no.”

“Really? Never?” He ran a hand over his morning stubble. “Most guys scratch car banging off their fuck list in high school. In fact, I can’t think of anyone who didn’t, except for the nerds and fuglies, and she’s neither.”

I shrugged. “I guess car banging makes me a slut.”

Cary grew very still. “Is that what she said?”

“No. sHe didn’t say shit. I got that from her ‘friend,’ Magdalene. You know that chick in most of the photos you printed off the Internet? She decided to sharpen her claws with a little catty girl chat in the bathroom.”

“The bitch is jealous.”

“Sexual frustration. She can’t fuck her, because apparently girls who fuck her go into the discard pile.”

“Did she say that?” Again, fury laced his quiet question.

“Not in so many words. sHe said she doesn’t sleep with her female friends. SHe’s got issues with women wanting more than a good time in the sack, so she keeps the women she bangs and the women she hangs out with in two separate camps.” I took another sip of my coffee. “I warned her that sort of setup wasn’t going to work for me and she said she’d make some adjustments, but I guess she’s one of those people who’ll say whatever’s necessary to get what they wants.”

“Or else you have her running scared.”

I glared. “Don’t make excuses for her. Whose side are you on, anyway?”

“Yours, baby girl.” He reached out and patted my knee. “Always yours.”

I wrapped my hand around his muscular forearm and stroked my fingers gently along the underside in silent gratitude. I couldn’t feel the multitude of fine white scars from cutting that marred his skin, but I never forgot they were there. I was thankful every day that he was alive, healthy, and a vital part of my life. “How’d your night go?”

“I can’t complain.” His eyes took on a mischievous glint. “I shagged that busty blonde in a maintenance closet. Her tits were real.”

“Well, then.” I smiled. “You made her night, I’m sure.”

“I try.” He picked up the phone receiver and winked at me. “What kind of delivery do you want? Subs? Chinese? Indian?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re always hungry. If you don’t pick something, I’ll cook and you’ll have to eat that.”

I lifted my hand in surrender. “Okay, okay. You pick.”

____

I got to work twenty minutes early on Monday, figuring I’d skip running into Lauren. When I reached my desk without incident, I felt such relief that I knew I was in serious trouble where she was concerned. My moods were shifting all over the place.

Mark arrived in high spirits, still floating from his major successes of the week before, and we dug right into work. I’d done some vodka market comparisons on Sunday and he was kind enough to go over those with me and listen to my impressions. Mark was also assigned the account for a new e-reader manufacturer, so we began the initial work on that.

With such a busy morning, time flew swiftly and I didn’t have time to think about my personal life. I was really grateful for that. Then I answered the phone and heard Lauren on the line. I wasn’t prepared.

“How’s your Monday been so far?” She asked, her voice sending a shiver of awareness through me.

“Hectic.” I glanced at the clock and was startled to see it was twenty minutes to noon.

“Good.” There was a pause. “I tried calling you yesterday. I left a couple messages. I wanted to hear your voice.”

My eyes closed on a deep breath. It had taken every bit of my willpower to make it through the day without listening to the voice mail. I’d even enlisted Cary in the cause, telling him to restrain me forcibly if it looked like I might succumb to the urge. “I did the hermit thing and worked a little.”

“Did you get the flowers I sent?”

“Yes. They’re lovely. Thank you.”

“They reminded me of your dress.”

What the hell was she doing? I was beginning to think she had multiple personality disorder. “Some women might say that’s romantic.”

“I only care what you say.” Her chair creaked as if she’d pushed to her feet. “I thought about stopping by…I wanted to.”

I sighed, surrendering to my confusion. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

There was another long pause. “I deserved that.”

“I didn’t say it to be a bitch. It’s just the truth.”

“I know. Listen…I arranged for lunch up here in my office so we don’t waste any of the hour leaving and getting back.”

After her parting, I’ll call you, I’d wondered if she would want to get together again after she settled down from whatever trip she’d been on. It was a possibility I’d been dreading since Saturday night, aware that I needed to cut her off, but feeling strung out from the desire to be with her. I wanted to experience again that pure, perfect moment of intimacy we’d shared.

But I couldn’t justify that one moment against all the other moments when she made me feel like crap.

“Lauren, we don’t have any reason to have lunch together. We hashed things out Friday night, and we…took care of business Saturday. Let’s just leave it at that.”

“Camila.” Her voice turned gruff. “I know I fucked up. Let me explain.”

“You don’t have to. It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I need to see you.”

“I don’t want—”

“We can do this the easy way, Camila. Or you can make it difficult.” Her tone took on a hard edge that made my pulse quicken. “Either way, you’ll hear me out.”

I closed my eyes, understanding that I wasn’t lucky enough to get away with a quick good-bye phone chat. “Fine. I’ll come up.”

“Thank you.” She exhaled audibly. “I can’t wait to see you.”

I returned the receiver to its cradle and stared at the photos on my desk, trying to formulate what I needed to say and steeling myself for the impact of seeing Lauren again. The ferocity of my physical response to her was impossible to control. Somehow I’d have to get past it and take care of business. Later, I’d think about having to see her in the building over the days, weeks, and months ahead. For the moment, I just had to focus on making it through lunch.

Yielding to the inevitable, I got back to work comparing the visual impact of some blow-in card samples.

“Camila.”

[96harmony96]

Chapter 5

I had a vicious hangover on Saturday morning and figured it was no less than I deserved. As much as I’d resented Lauren’s insistence on negotiating sex with as much passion as she would a merger, in the end I’d negotiated in kind. Because I wanted her enough to take a calculated risk and break my own rules.

I took comfort in knowing she was breaking some of her own, too.

After a long, hot shower, I made my way into the living room and found Cary on the couch with his netbook, looking fresh and alert. Smelling coffee in the kitchen, I headed there and filled the biggest mug I could find.

“Morning, sunshine,” Cary called out.

With my much-needed dose of caffeine wrapped between both palms, I joined him on the couch.

He pointed at a box on the end table. “That came for you while you were in the shower.”

I set my mug on the coffee table and picked up the box. It was wrapped with brown paper and twine, and had my name handwritten diagonally across the top with a decorative calligraphic flourish. Inside was an amber glass bottle with Hangover Cure painted on it in a white old-fashioned font and a note tied with raffia to the bottle’s neck that said, “Drink me.” Lauren’s business card was nestled in the cushioning tissue paper.

As I studied the gift, I found it very apt. Since meeting Lauren I’d felt like I’d fallen down the rabbit hole into a fascinating and seductive world where few of the known rules applied. I was in uncharted territory that was both exciting and scary.

I glanced at Cary, who eyed the bottle dubiously.

“Cheers.” I pried the cork out and drank the contents without thinking twice about it. It tasted like sickly sweet cough syrup. My stomach quivered in distaste for a moment, and then heated. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and shoved the cork back into the empty bottle.

“What was that?” Cary asked.

“From the burn, it’s hair of the dog.”

His nose wrinkled. “Effective but unpleasant.”

And it was working. I already felt a little steadier.

Cary picked up the box and dug out Lauren’s card. He flipped it over; then held it out to me. On the back Lauren had written, “Call me” in bold slashing penmanship and jotted down a number.

I took the card, curling my hand around it. Her gift was proof that she was thinking about me. Her tenacity and focus was seductive. And flattering.

There was no denying I was in trouble where Lauren was concerned. I craved the way I felt when she touched me, and I loved the way she responded when I touched her back. When I tried to think of what I wouldn’t agree to do to have her hands on me again, I couldn’t come up with much.

When Cary tried to hand me the phone, I shook my head. “Not yet. I need a clear head when dealing with her and I’m still fuzzy.”

“You two seemed cozy last night. She’s definitely into you.”

“I’m definitely into her.” Curling into the corner of the couch, I pressed my cheek into the cushion and hugged my legs to my chest. “We’re going to hang out, get to know each other, have casual-but-physically-intense sex, and be otherwise completely independent. No strings, no expectations, no responsibilities.”

Cary hit a button on his netbook and the printer on the other side of the room started spitting out pages. Then he snapped the computer closed, set it on the coffee table, and gave me all his attention. “Maybe it’ll turn into something serious.”

“Maybe not,” I scoffed.

“Cynic.”

“I’m not looking for happily-ever-after, Cary, especially not with a mega-mogul like Jauregui. I’ve seen what it’s like for my mom being connected to powerful men. It’s a full-time job with a part-time companion. Money keeps Mom happy, but it wouldn’t be enough for me.”

My dad had loved my mom. He’d asked her to marry him and share his life. She’d turned him down because he didn’t have the hefty portfolio and sizeable bank account she required in a husband. Love wasn’t a requisite for marriage in Sinuhe Stanton’s opinion and since her sultry-eyed, breathy-voiced beauty was irresistible to most men, she’d never had to settle for less than whatever she wanted. Unfortunately she hadn’t wanted my dad for the long haul.

Glancing at the clock, I saw it was ten thirty. “I guess I should get ready.”

“I love spa day with your mom.” Cary smiled and it chased the lingering shadows on my mood away. “I feel like a god when we’re done.”

“Me, too. Of the goddess persuasion.”

We were so eager to be off that we went downstairs to meet the car rather than wait for the front desk to call up.

The doorman smiled as we stepped outside—me in heeled sandals and a maxi dress, and Cary in hip-hugging jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt.

“Good morning, Miss Cabello. Mr. Taylor. Will you need a cab today?”

“No thanks, Paul. We’re expecting a car.” Cary grinned. “It’s spa day at Perrini’s!”

“Ah, Perrini’s Day Spa.” Paul gave a sage nod. “I bought my wife a gift certificate for our anniversary. She enjoyed it so much I plan to make it a tradition.”

“You did good, Paul,” I said. “Pampering a woman never goes out of style.”

A black town car pulled up with Clancy at the wheel. Paul opened the rear door for us and we climbed in, squealing when we found a box of Knipschildt’s Chocopologie on the seat. Waving at Paul, we settled back and dug in, taking tiny nibbles of the truffles that were worth savoring slowly.

Clancy drove us straight to Perrini’s, where the relaxation began from the moment one walked in the door. Crossing the entrance threshold was like taking a vacation on the far side of the world. Every arched doorway was framed by lushly vibrant striped silks, while jeweled pillows decorated elegant chaises and oversized armchairs.

Birds chirped from suspended gilded cages and potted plants filled every corner with lush fronds. Small decorative fountains added the sounds of running water, while stringed instrumental music was piped into the room via cleverly hidden speakers. The air was redolent with a mix of exotic spices and fragrances, making me feel like I’d stepped into Arabian Nights.

It was this-close to being too much, but it didn’t cross the line. Instead, Perrini’s was exotic and luxurious, an indulgent treat for those who could afford it. Like my mother, who’d just finished a milk-and-honey bath when we arrived.

I studied the menu of treatments available, deciding to skip my usual “warrior woman” in favor of the “passionate pampering.” I’d been waxed the week before, but the rest of the treatment—“designed to make you sexually irresistible”—sounded like exactly what I needed.

I’d finally managed to get my mind back into the safe zone of work when Cary spoke up from the pedicure chair beside mine.

“Mrs. Stanton, have you met Lauren Jauregui?”

I gaped at him. He knew damn well my mom went nuts over any news about my romantic—and not-so-romantic, as the case may be—relationships.

My mother, who sat in the chair on the other side of me, leaned forward with her usual girlish excitement over a rich, handsome man. “Of course. She’s one of the wealthiest women in the world. Number twenty-five or so on Forbes’s list, if I’m remembering correctly. A very driven young woman, obviously, and a generous benefactor to many of the children’s charities I champion. Extremely eligible, of course, but I don’t believe she's straight , Cary. She’s got a reputation as a ladies’ pleaser.”

“My loss.” Cary grinned and ignored my violent headshaking. “But it’d be a hopeless crush anyway, since she’s digging on Camila.”

“Camila! I can’t believe you didn’t say anything. How could you not tell me something like that?”

I looked at my mom, whose scrubbed face appeared young, unlined, and very much like mine. I was very clearly my mother’s daughter, right down to my surname. The one concession she’d made to my father had been to name me after his mother.

“There’s nothing to tell,” I insisted. “We’re just…friends.”

“We can do better than that,” Sinuhe said, with a look of calculation that struck fear in my heart. “I don’t know how it escaped me that you work in the same building she does. I’m certain she was smitten the moment she saw you. Although she’s known to prefer blondes…Hmm…Anyway. sHe’s also known for her excellent taste. Clearly the latter won out with you.”

“It’s not like that. Please don’t start meddling. You’ll embarrass me.”

“Nonsense. If anyone knows what to do with men, it’s me.”

I cringed, my shoulders creeping up to my ears. By the time my massage appointment came around, I was in desperate need of one. I stretched out on the table and closed my eyes, preparing to take a catnap to get through the long night ahead.

I loved dressing up and looking pretty as much as the next girl, but charity functions were a lot of work. Making small talk was exhausting, smiling nonstop was a pain, and conversations about businesses and people I didn’t know were boring. If it wasn’t for Cary benefitting from the exposure, I’d put up a bigger fight about going.

I sighed. Who was I fooling? I’d end up going anyway. My mom and Stanton supported abused children’s charities because they were significant to me. Going to the occasional stuffy event was a small price to pay for the return.

Taking a deep breath, I consciously relaxed. I made a mental note to call my dad when I got home and thought about how to send a thank-you note to Lauren for the hangover cure. I supposed I could e-mail her using the contact info on her business card, but that lacked class. Besides, I didn’t know who read her inbox.

I’d just call her when I got home. Why not? She’d asked—no, told—me to; she’d written the demand on her business card. And I’d get to hear her luscious voice again.

The door opened and the masseuse came in. “Hello, Camila. You ready?”

Not quite. But I was getting there.

___

After many lovely hours at the spa, my mom and Cary dropped me off at the apartment; then they headed out to hunt for new cuff links for Stanton. I used the time alone to call Lauren. Even with the much-needed privacy, I punched most of her phone number into the keypad a half-dozen times before I finally put the call through.

She answered on the first ring. “Camila.”

W that she’d known who was calling, my mind scrambled for a moment. How did she have my name and number in her contact list? “Uh…hi, Lauren.”

“I’m a block away. Let the front desk know I’m coming.”

“What?” I felt like I’d missed part of the conversation. “Coming where?”

“To your place. I’m rounding the corner now. Call the desk, Camila.”

she hung up and I stared at the phone, trying to absorb the fact that Lauren was moments away from being with me again. Somewhat dazed, I went to the intercom and talked to the front desk, letting them know I was expecting her and while I was talking, she walked into the lobby. A few moments after that, she was at my door.

It was then that I remembered I was dressed in only a thigh-length silk robe, and my face and hair were styled for the dinner. What kind of impression would she get from my appearance?

I tightened the belt of my robe before I let her in. It wasn’t like I’d invited her over for a seduction or anything.

Lauren stood in the hallway for a long moment, her gaze raking me from my head down to my French manicured toes. I was equally stunned by her appearance. The way she looked in worn jeans and a T-shirt made me want to undress her with my teeth.

“Worth the trip to find you like this, Camila.” sHe stepped inside and locked the door behind her. “How are you feeling?”

“Good. Thanks to you. Thank you.” My stomach quivered because she was here, with me, which made me feel almost…giddy. “That can’t be why you came over.”

“I’m here because it took you too long to call me.”

“I didn’t realize I had a deadline.”

“I have to ask you something time-sensitive, but more than that, I wanted to know if you were feeling all right after last night.” Her eyes were dark as they swept over me, her breathtaking face framed by that luxurious curtain of inky hair. “God. You look beautiful, Camila. I can’t remember ever wanting anything this much.”

With just those few simple words I became hot and needy. Way too vulnerable. “What’s so urgent?”

“Go with me to the advocacy center dinner tonight.”

I pulled back, surprised and excited by the request. “You’re going?”

“So are you. I checked, knowing your mother would be there. Let’s go together.”

My hand went to my throat, my mind torn between the weirdness of how much she knew about me and concern over what she was asking me to do. “That’s not what I meant when I said we should spend time together.”

“Why not?” The simple question was laced with challenge. “What’s the problem with going together to an event we’d already planned on attending separately?”

“It’s not very discreet. It’s a high-profile event.”

“So?” Lauren stepped closer and fingered a curl of my hair.

There was a dangerous purr to her voice that sent a shiver through me. I could feel the warmth of her big, hard body and smell the richly musky scent of her skin. I was falling under her spell, deeper with every minute that passed.

“People will make assumptions, my mother in particular. She’s already scenting your bachelor blood in the water.”

Lowering her head, Lauren pressed her lips into the crook of my neck. “I don’t care what people think. We know what we’re doing. And I’ll deal with your mother.”

“If you think you can,” I said breathlessly, “you don’t know her very well.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven.” Her tongue traced the wildly throbbing vein in my throat and I melted into her, my body going lax as she pulled me close.

Still, I managed to say, “I haven’t said yes.”

“But you won’t say no.” sHe caught my earlobe between her teeth. “I won’t let you.”

I opened my mouth to protest and she sealed her lips over mine, shutting me up with a lush wet kiss. Her tongue did that slow, savoring licking that made me long to feel her doing the same between my legs. My hands went to her hair, sliding through it, tugging. When she wrapped her arms around me, I arched, curving into her hands.

Just as she had in her office, she had me on my back on the couch before I realized she was moving me, her mouth swallowing my surprised gasp. The robe gave way to her dexterous fingers; then she was cupping my breasts, kneading them with soft, rhythmic squeezes.

“Lauren—”

“Shh.” sHe sucked on my lower lip, her fingers rolling and tugging my tender nipples. “It was driving me crazy knowing you were naked beneath your robe.”

“You came over without—Oh! Oh, God…”

Her mouth surrounded the tip of my breast, the wash of heat bringing a mist of perspiration to my skin.

My gaze darted frantically to the clock on the cable box. “Lauren, no.”

Her head lifted and she looked at me with stormy green eyes. “It’s insane, I know. I don’t—I can’t explain it, Camila, but I have to make you come. I’ve been thinking about it constantly for days now.”

One of her hands pushed between my legs. They fell open shamelessly, my body so aroused I was flushed and almost feverish. Her other hand continued to plump my breasts, making them heavy and unbearably sensitive.

“You’re wet for me,” she murmured, her gaze sliding down my body to where she was parting me with her fingers. “You’re beautiful here, too. Plush and pink. So soft. You didn’t wax today, did you?”

I shook my head.

“Thank God. I don’t think I would’ve made it ten minutes without touching you, let alone ten hours.” She slid one finger carefully into me.

My eyes closed against the unbearable vulnerability of being spread out naked and fingered by a woman whose familiarity with the rules of Brazilian waxing betrayed an intimate knowledge of women. A woman who was still fully clothed and kneeling on the floor beside me.

“You’re so snug.” Lauren pulled out and thrust gently back into me. My back bowed as I clenched eagerly around her. “And so greedy. How long has it been since the last time you were fucked?”

I swallowed hard. “I’ve been busy. My thesis, job-hunting, moving…”

“A while, then.” sHe pulled out and pushed back into me with two fingers. I couldn’t hold back a moan of delight. The woman had talented hands, confident and skilled, and she took what he wanted with them.

“Are you on birth control, Camila?”

“Yes.” My hands gripped the edges of the cushions. “Of course.”

“I’ll prove I’m clean and you’ll do the same, then you’re going to let me come in you.”

“Jesus, Lauren.” I was panting for her, my hips circling shamelessly onto her thrusting fingers. I felt like I’d spontaneously combust if she didn’t get me off.

I’d never been so turned on in my life. I was near mindless with the need for an orgasm. If Cary walked in right then and found me writhing in our living room while Lauren finger-fucked me, I didn’t think I’d care.

Lauren was breathing hard, too. Her face was flushed with lust. For me. When I’d done nothing more than respond helplessly to her.

Her hand at my breast moved to my cheek and brushed over it. “You’re blushing. I’ve scandalized you.”

“Yes.”

Her smile was both wicked and delighted, and it made my chest tight. “I want to feel my cum in you when I fuck you with my fingers. I want you to feel my cum in you, so you think about how I looked and the sounds I made when I pumped it into you. And while you’re thinking about that, you’re going to look forward to me doing it again and again.”

My sex rippled around her stroking fingers, the rawness of her words pushing me to the brink of orgasm.

“I’m going to tell you all the ways I want you to please me, Camila, and you’re going to do it all…take it all, and we’re going to have explosive, primal, no-holds-barred sex. You know that, don’t you? You can feel how it’ll be between us.”

“Yes,” I breathed, clutching my breasts to ease the deep ache of my hardened nipples. “Please, Lauren.”

“Shh…I’ve got you.” The pad of her thumb rubbed my clitoris in gentle circles. “Look into my eyes when you come for me.”

Everything tightened in my core, the tension building as she massaged my clit and pushed her fingers in and out in a steady, unhurried rhythm.

“Give it up to me, Camila,” she ordered. “Now.”

I climaxed with a thready cry, my grip white-knuckled on the sides of the cushions as my hips pumped onto her hand, my mind far beyond shame or shyness. My gaze was locked to her, unable to look away, riveted by the fierce masculine triumph that flared in her eyes. In that moment she owned me. I’d do anything she wanted. And she knew it.

Searing pleasure pulsed through me. Through the roaring of blood in my ears, I thought I heard her speak hoarsely, but I lost the words when she hooked one of my legs over the back of the couch and covered my cleft with her mouth.

“No—” I pushed at her head with my hands. “I can’t.”

I was too swollen, too sensitive. But when her tongue touched my clit, fluttering over it, the hunger built again. More intense than the first time. she rimmed my trembling slit, teasing me, taunting me with the promise of another orgasm when I knew I couldn’t have one again so quickly.

Then her tongue speared into me and I bit my lip to bite back a scream. I came a second time, my body quaking violently, tender muscles tightening desperately around her decadent licking. Her growl vibrated through me. I didn’t have the strength to push her away when she returned to my clit and sucked softly…tirelessly…until I climaxed again, gasping her name.

I was boneless as she straightened my leg and still breathless when she pressed kisses up my belly to my breasts. she licked each of my nipples, and then hauled me up with her arms banded around my back. I hung lax and pliable in her grip while she took my mouth with suppressed violence, bruising my lips and betraying how close to the edge she was.

she closed my robe; then stood, staring down at me.

“Lauren…?”

“Seven o’clock, Camila.” sHe reached down and touched my ankle, her fingertips caressing the diamond anklet I’d put on in preparation for the evening. “And keep this on. I want to fuck you while you’re wearing nothing else.”