Steel, p.15
Steel, page 15
I shove my shoulders up. "I don't know. How do I even?"
She gives me a smile that can only be described as salacious. "Maybe you can just wait for him naked and boom. No conversation necessary."
"Nekked," Huddy repeats and her eyes go wide.
"Shit." Her hand stamps over her mouth and I have to turn the phone away from me when her kid repeats it. She spends the next minutes trying to convince him on the word “ship.”
"You need a plan, Mel. You know the two of you get sidetracked easily. Or he'll make that pouty sulky face."
She's right. We do. I need to get off the topic, in case he can hear us.
"Okay, yeah stop nagging me. I told you—" I stop mid-sentence. The shower stops running. I hate to cut off the video and stop talking to Carissa and the little prince, but I have to stop stalling. "I gotta go."
By the time Leandro steps into the room, I'm invested in the baseball game playing on the TV. It's a day game, Yanks are playing the Athletics. He just stands there, staring at me. It's go time, Amelia.
I arm myself with courage, turn and smile at him. "Good morning."
His shower gel mixed with hints of mint teases my nostrils. He's wearing gray sweatpants and a white thermal. The ridges on the top cling to him in a way that makes me jealous. Despite his squinting eyes and mean mug, he looks absolutely edible, like that slice of coffee cake that makes you walk inside the bakery, even though you're late for an appointment.
"You're still here." It's not a sentence but more a bark.
His tone, rough against my ears, should make my smile falter, except, this is Leandro. Pissed off and cranky, he's still Leandro. Plus, I know how bad he is until he's had his coffee.
He walks to the refrigerator and I have to look at the TV to stop from marveling at how good his ass and thighs look in those pants. Is there anything about him I don't find pant-dropping sexy? No that's not the right description, maybe hot as fuck? He comes back with a bottle of water and I glance away.
At the right moment, some player for New York hits a ball right center and I pump my fist up in the air. I'm grateful for the respite because the way his clothes frame his body deserves a standing ovation. I'm so caught up in my lust, I don't notice when he moves around the counter. He's standing on the other side of it, still in the kitchen, hawk-eyed and burning me.
Then I wince. Fabian’s the player who got the hit in the game and is now crossing home plate. Fuck.
"There's coffee and I left you some soup," I say but kept my eyes on the TV. No, don't look at him.
So, Amelia comes to my house, doesn't bother to explain why and can't even bother to look at me. That suits me just fine. I look my fill as I move about. I'm not happy with her but there's no way I'm turning down soup when I feel like a pile of burning shit.
Damn, this looks awesome. I bet it tastes great.
I choose the chair furthest away from her. She still won’t look at me, but I eat and watch her. I thought she didn’t cook.
Her hair, pulled in a messy bun on top of her head, makes her look like a regular chick, not someone who could knot your dick and tie it with your balls. The thin robe covers her body, but the tank top peeks out, giving me a glimpse of the top of her breasts. She's also wearing tights that reach her ankles. She sits with her legs tucked under her, head tilted to the side, alternating between watching the TV and scrolling through her phone.
She looks comfortable, like she's been here before. She hasn't. Perfectly at home on my oversized couch, I can't help but notice how natural, even normal it is to have her sitting there. The sense of belonging stabs through me until I can't take it anymore and stalk back to the kitchen and slam the mug on the counter with more force than I intend to.
"Are you okay?" she gasps.
The wide-eyed concern in her eyes is more than I can handle.
"Since when do you cook?" Ornery, downright nasty and really, was that the best I can do? "What happened to Amelia Solis doesn't cook for anyone?"
She chuckles. "I never said I don't cook for anyone. I said, Amelia Solis should not be expected to cook. I had a kid to take care of, so of course I cook. I had to learn to feed us. Nelly, that little wench, didn't eat anything unless it tasted like Mami's so I had no choice."
The sad smile on her face presses the walls of my chest. I go back to my chair not sure what this is about, but I don't want to be too close until I know what's up her sleeve. So, I drink my water in silence. The TV was so low I can barely hear anything except her reactions but of course she would be cheering for Fabian’s team. At one point, she looks at me with a blank face then back at her phone and giggles.
"What?"
"Hmm?" She turns to me with raised eyebrows.
"What are you laughing at?"
"Oh," she laughs again. "It's nothing. I’m texting with Carissa. She’s in rare form today."
"What are you doing here, Amelia?"
"I came to see you," she says in the softest of tones. Like nothing before happened between us. Like it's the most logical answer in the world. Like she hadn't ripped me to shreds and then sent me away bleeding.
For more than two years I've been on this ride with her. It began with a free-fall the minute she stepped into that loft the first night I met her. We've traveled through paths of anger, loss and grief but mostly guilt. I won't play games with her anymore.
Pushing off the seat, I take two steps toward her. "You came to see. You saw me." I gesture down my chest and look back to her. "Well?"
"You still look delicious, but your attitude is super shitty."
Laughter rips from my chest but dies in less than a breath. I jam my finger in her direction. "You're out of this world, you know that? Not happy with rejecting me and ignoring me, you come here to mock me?"
"I didn't come here to mock you, Leandro." Her tone cracks through the air like thunder.
"It's Leo to you. If not to mock me, then what the fuck are you doing here? Are you here out of guilt?" I'm getting closer to her now. "No, maybe you're here to inflict more guilt. Maybe you think we haven't suffered enough and you need to be here and make us both more miserable than we've ever been."
I'm yelling but I don't care. Not even when she blanches, or when she shoots to her feet, anger blooming all over her face. Her eyes sharp as razors gliding over my face and I know then. She's amped for the fight now. Good. So am I. Let's do this.
"You know what, asshole? Had you not run away while I was sleeping, we could've had a nice little conversation. I didn't have to come here to deal with your surly ass."
Yes, now we're talking. Give me your anger. Hurt me like only you can. "What are you doing here?" I shout at the top of my lungs.
"I came to tell you that I love you," she screams, the words bouncing off the walls while the two of us stand frozen. Everything feels like it's shattering but neither of us moves. Until she does. "Now you can go fuck yourself."
28
Oh shit.
I turn on my heel and storm off to the guest bedroom. I collect my purse in one hand, shove my glasses in it along with my nightgown. My bag is firmly in hand when he kicks the door open and it crashes against the wall.
"What did you just say?" Confusion, anger and surprise written all over his face. It's like watching him through the eyes of a View-Master toy. Except, I'm not clicking but the emotions just keep rolling. I'm not staying for much more.
"You know the door was open, right?" I point out because he deserves to feel stupid. I walk past him, on my way to the living room.
"Stop," he says, holding on to the bottom of the brand-new traveling bag I now wish I had not let Carissa and Gia talked me into buying. This whole thing was a bad fucking idea. No time to dwell. Getting out is my single focus.
I slip my arm out from under the strap and keep walking, leave him to stare after me with the bag in his hand. The door within a few steps, I rush toward it. I reach for the handle, but he slams it shut with his hand above my head, trapping me between his chest and the wall.
"Move."
"Okay." He lowers his head until his lips hover over my ear. One hand circles my waist, pressing me against him. His head leans on my shoulder and his other hand settles over my chest, above my drumming heart.
Everywhere he touches, my skin rages up a storm. Ensconced between his muscled arms, I fight against my body's desire to melt against him.
"Let me go."
Pride surges at how strong the words sound. Inside, I'm the consistency of candy left all day in the sun, yet my tone conveys the opposite. Maybe I can convince him to let me go and I could walk away with two-thirds of my dignity still salvageable.
What the fuck was I thinking coming here in the first place? And then I just yell I love you and tell him to go fuck himself. In one sentence. Who does that?
"I can't let you go." He kisses my neck, his lips trailing up along the column. "You love me. I won't let you go."
"Get off me, Leo."
"Call me, Leandro. I love the way you say my name."
The blood rushes to my head. That does it. I manage to turn around and with a strength I didn't know I had, I push him away from me. He throws himself against the door so I can’t open it.
I stomp back to the living room.
"You're insane, you know that?" I swipe my fingers on the screen on my phone with my index finger and put it to my ear. Carissa answers on the first ring. "Hey, can you send someone to pick me up. Your man's homeboy is trippin’. He's clearly lost his mind and is now holding me hostage. I want to go home. Now. " I curl my lip at Leandro's smiling face. "Okay! See you soon."
The stupid grin still intact, Leandro moves to the end table, picks up the house phone and dials. "My dude. Can you do me a favor? Entertain your wife for me for a few hours. She is trying to send people to pick up her friend but that is not necessary." He listens on the other line. "Tell Carissa that yes, it's true. I have been an asshole all morning and last night. Amelia just told me she loves me and that's not something you just tell a man you've been torturing for years and then walk away. I dare say I gave her a hard time yesterday and today but how many months has she given me a hard time?
I keep my hands at my sides, so I can't hurl the crystal-ridged vase at him and concentrate on breathing. He moves the phone away from his ear. I want to laugh at the way he's helpless, listening to Carissa's screaming. God bless my friend.
"Tell her she's mine, Alec. I'm going to keep her even if I have to keep her locked up in here." He hangs up the phone and takes two steps toward me.
"Stay there and don't you dare touch me. Let me go back to Carissa's house and we can pretend this never happened. You can go back to dating models or bottles of Jack Daniel’s for all I care. I can go work on my tan."
He shakes his head. "I have a terrace and a pool where you can work on your tan if you want but you're not leaving."
"I don't want to swim in your goddamned pool. Who knows what kind of germs are there. Let's just forget that I came by."
"No."
We stand there, staring at each other like enemies on opposing sides. The car's not going to come. Alec won't send it and will convince Carissa to let Leandro try and make up for his behavior.
I'm embarrassed. It comes down to that. I came thinking this was going to be easy, that we were going to finally get past everything but now we said too many nasty things. I mean, he started it, but I never pass up a fight.
"You'll have to sleep sometime." I shoot the words at him like a missile and take a seat on the couch.
"You're right," he ponders, pursing his lips and tapping them with his index finger. Then he smiles like the sun came out on Christmas morning. "I'll just have to sleep on top of you, with my face resting on your breast." His voice dropping into a whisper, "I can kiss them every time I wake."
Memories of his mouth latched on to my nipples, the love bites he scattered only to follow with soothing kisses. His full lips pressing hot and wet on my skin. The hairs on my body soldier-up and salute.
My grip is about to crush the remote, so I swallow discreetly and fix him with a reproving look. "Dirty talk won't get you anywhere. You'll just make yourself more uncomfortable." I point to his pants and go back to pretending I’m interested in the game.
He's still staring at me when I look again, the same ridiculous expression playing over his features. "What are you smiling at?"
"You love me."
Thump-thump goes my heart. Jesus that almost hurt.
"So? I do and say stupid things all the time. Once I got a belly button ring. It got infected and I was in pain for weeks and had to get rid of it." Stop rambling, idiot.
"Did it get better? Wait, don't answer that. I know it did. That part of you is beautiful but then again, all of you is beautiful."
I roll my eyes, hoping to appear as unimpressed as I want to be. "Is that the best you can do?"
He sits next to me. "I'm better with show than tell." His voice is soft like a silk feather sliding down my lower back. "Let me show you."
"Sex, Leandro? You're offering sex as a way to get to me. Unbelievable."
He reaches under me and pulls me into his lap.
"Not sex, I mean, not just that. I want to worship every corner of you. Kiss you all night, fuck you until you forget you're mad and that I'm an asshole who's insane with need to be with you. I want to show how much I want you, Amelia, like that day at your house, except this would be different now, not anger or grief for you. And that night on the island when we went crazy on each other."
The husky, hungry tone in his voice turns my skin to goose flesh, but it's the soft yearning that shakes my heart. There’s a feeling in his eyes that drills into my very soul, real and raw. I try to avoid him when he looks at me this way, with his naked feelings. I always have to work to keep mine in check. I realize now that I don't have to. I came here to be real.
"It wasn't just anger and grief…I was hurt, too. Nelly's death was still too recent. I wasn't thinking, just feeling." Taking his hand, I lift it and place it over my heart. "You were here from the first day. I can't get you out and trust me, I tried."
His eyes become liquid dark holes that I'm drowning in. "I know you did."
That hurts. "Leandro…"
He places his fingertips on my lips. "Just tell me it's over. Tell me you're not going to run from us. Tell me that you'll never try to push me out of your life."
Then I remember. "I'm pissed off at you."
"I know. Tell me anyway. We both need to hear it and you can go back to being mad after."
"It's over. I'm not going to push you from my life ever again." Amazed at how easy it is to say the words, I smile until he mirrors it.
I forget everything except him. I pull his face to mine and kiss him, pouring myself, everything I have in me into his mouth until he hums.
29
Amelia’s sitting in front of me, pulling back from a kiss, smiling in a way I've rarely seen her before. Her hands on mine, her eyes twinkling.
"Now what?" she asks and my stomach drops because there's something in her voice, in the way she says it that teases and promises. She asks a question that only she knows the answer to.
If she left it up to me…my mind doesn't go far. But, this is us and we need to talk it out first. I don't want surprises. There is no pulling back from this. I won't let her. Ever. No matter what.
So yeah, talking it is.
"Well, now, I think we need to talk about what we're doing."
Her eyebrows rise way high. "Talk?"
With feline grace she comes closer and closer until she's straddling me. Her hands on my chest, she leans towards me and I swear someone put a lid on my throat because my breath is not coming up. Hot, wet, igniting kisses from my neck, over my jaw line to my lips.
"Keep going, don't mind me."
Her hands roam my chest. She squeezes my arms and moans.
"Amelia, there won’t be any talking if you keep doing that."
I'm trying to be good about this. Communication and all that crap. I reward myself for my grown-up intentions with my hands firmly on her ass, pressing her to my bulge. I swear my dick is trying to break through both our clothes to get inside her.
"You're not doing much talking." There's laughter in her voice, torture in the rock of her hips. She bites my neck, hard and my cock twitches.
She pulls back. "I hate to be the nagging girlfriend, but if you're not going to talk, we should probably get more comfortable."
Girlfriend.
"Girlfriend, what do you mean by comfortable?"
"Without clothes, comfortable."
My heart takes on a fast trot. She untangles herself, pulls back and stands before me. My face is inches from her chest. She reaches for my hands and starts walking towards the guest room, even though I haven't stood up yet.
I tried.
I stand up, sweep her off the floor, and hoist her over my shoulder, walking in the opposite direction.
"Let's go live some fantasies."
She laughs in that full playful, loud Amelia way I love so much. I dump her in the middle of my massive bed and take a few steps back until I'm leaning against the door frame. "God, you look good there. I just knew you would."
"Did you picture me in my robe and tights?"
"Do you really want to know?"
She shakes her head and hops off the bed. "Later. Come take off my clothes."
She shrugs off her robe but stands there waiting for me. I come to her, like walking through a damned haze because this can't be real. No way is real Amelia like my fantasy Amelia. Except she was on the island.
A knowing smile plays about her lips, like she can read my thoughts, and she raises her arms over her head. I reach for the hem of her tank top and pull it over her head. Her bra is pure lace, the color of the deep sea mixed over her olive skin. I sit on the bed, because I'm so much taller than her. I want my mouth to be at level. I guide her between my legs, cup her breasts in my hands. She sucks in her breath.
