Loving Me, Trusting You(18)

“Fine. But I want something nice. If you try to saddle me with a Suzuki Savage, I'll kick you in the balls and throw the girl off the back. Got it?” Before Austin can answer, Mireya's slamming the door and spinning around. My fingers glide along her hip as she turns, and I clamp down hard, pulling her against me, reigniting the passion I felt in the garage. “What the f*ck do you think you're doing?” she asks, but she doesn't throw me off. Good sign. “You had your chance tonight and you blew it.”

I frown at her, but I manage to catch her gaze. Something ain't right. She looks like she's been crying maybe? What the f*ck? I almost ask if she's alright, but manage to catch my tongue in time. Mireya isn't about to spill her heart out to little old me.

“I didn't want to share you with another woman,” I tell her instead. “I don't want to share you with anyone. How about I save all the f*ckin' for you?” She rolls her eyes and pushes away from me, untangling herself from my arms in a cloud of perfume, trailing flowers and sweet soap behind her as she moves away, dark hair wet, trailing down her back and begging me to bury my face in the crook of her neck.

“Gaine, you've obviously got some issues. Your mama abandon you as a child or something? If you need somebody to help you through your mommy issues, find another old lady to do it with.”

“Oh come on now, Mireya. You know my attraction for you has got nothin' to do with that. Fuck, if I had mommy issues, don't you think I'd have played 'em out with Old Barbie.” I see her lip twitch, I know I do. Old Barbie's the oldest person, man or woman, that's in Triple M. She's so old, her wrinkles have got wrinkles. Woman's got deeper lines than the Grand Canyon and hair that's gone white but still in dreads. Bitch is tough as leather. “And much as I fancy her, I want more than sex in my life.”

“I'm telling Barb you're talkin' nasty about her,” Mireya says, dropping her robe off her shoulders and tossing it onto the chair near the window. “Is that why you always look so far away when you're f*cking? Thinking about that old bat, hmm?” I watch Mireya's body, curvy and muscular, feminine but strong, as she moves over to her bag and starts to dig through the fabric, either unaware of the effect on me or not caring that she's got me all hot and f*cking bothered. My hands are trembling and my throat's gone dry.

I'm standing here watching a round, firm ass move around the room draped in lace. Any red-blooded man would go nuts in my position. Doesn't help that I'm head over the heels for the girl.

“You know it,” I say, but my voice doesn't hold any laughter. Instead, it comes out in a croak, like if I let forth all that I was feeling inside, that I'd explode. I don't want to go back to joking around and pretending that I just want to be friends with benefits like she and Austin were.

I watch as Mireya pulls out a pair of faded jeans and sets them aside. It's just busy work, what she's doing, pretending to set out her outfit. I've never seen her plan out her clothes even an hour in advance. She's avoiding me. I think about whether I should talk about what happened downstairs and decide against it. No. No. Maybe Beck, * that he is, is right? Maybe I've been going about dealing with Mireya in all the wrong ways? She's a woman, sure, but that doesn't mean she necessarily wants to talk everything out.

Instead, I step forward and come up behind her, pressing my erection against the silken crease in her panties, smelling her floral perfume and letting it sit on my tongue when I open my mouth to whisper in her ear.

“Somehow though,” I begin as she stiffens in my arms. “The only woman I can imagine that's prettier than Old Barb is standing right in front of me.” Mireya shakes her head and her wet hair slides along my face.

“I'm going to tell her you said that,” she says, grabbing the zipper on her duffel and sliding it closed. All she's managed to dig out are a pair of jeans and a black thong. I smile when she spins and turns to face me, our mouths so close we could kiss if either of us took a single breath. “She's a jealous bitch, too. I once saw her shoot a man in the foot for even looking at another woman.” Mireya shrugs, but I can tell from the look in her eyes that even she knows we're past the jokes and the silly sayings and the gossip. I don't want that anymore and she knows it. “I don't want to belong to anybody, Gaine,” she says and her voice starts off more tender than I've ever heard it, fading just a bit when she says my name so that her callous attitude is plastered across her face when she's finished.

“Babe,” I tell her, leaning towards her and pressing my forehead to hers. “You don't need to be.” I lift my face up and press a kiss to her hairline. She's frowning and the skin around her nose is wrinkled, but she isn't pulling away. Or punching me in the balls, so I think we're doin' good. “Because no matter what you say, no matter what you do, I'm yours.”

My hands rise up and slide around her waist, pulling her tight as my lips find hers, hot and bothered and sticky with moisture. The air conditioner doesn't seem to be working right in this room, so it's a bit hotter than it should be, making Mireya's skin slick where my fingers find it underneath the edge of her lacy nothing. I kiss her the way a woman should be kissed, like there's nowhere else I'd rather be, like I'm worshipping her with my mouth. She's always wearing these fruit flavored lipsticks and whatnot, so I'm used to that taste. Only problem is, it isn't her. The lipstick isn't what I want to savor when my mouth is up tight to hers. Tonight, for what may very well be the first time, she's au naturel, no makeup, just soft skin and lips that hold no lies, only secrets. Wonder if I can kiss them all out of her?