Love Turns With Twisted Fates 2 (13 page)

“I’m going to kiss you now, Izzy.”

Before I can acquiesce, his mouth is taking mine. I’m lost
in the pull of his lips on mine. I concentrate on the feel of his tongue
twisting and tangling with mine. The moment is lost when he pulls me in to
deepen the kiss and his hand on my waist and the other on the back of my head
takes me to Diego. With our lips and tongues still wrapped up in each other’s,
a sob breaks our lip-lock.

“Shit, Izzy. I’m sorry.” He pushes away from me and I’m both
relieved and saddened by his distance.

“No. I’m sorry. I guess it’s easier to talk the talk than
walk the walk. In another time, I’d have liked to get to know you better.”

“Don’t give up pretty girl,” he brushes a tear from my
cheek. “You won’t always have this pain.” He straightens our disheveled
appearances. “And you have my number. I look forward to hearing from you.
There’s no hurry, Izzy. I’m a man of great patience.” The twinkle of charm is
back in his eyes.

I sigh inwardly wondering why I couldn’t have met Johnny
before…I can’t even think his name right now. We’re back at the table when I
tell Mazzy about the cab that should be waiting for us. Johnny chuckles at my
planning for our late and drunken departure. I shrug, “After my night, I just
knew.”

The crisp 2:00AM air sends a chill down my spine as we exit
the bar. The chill that races up it has me looking around. I spot Sebastian
before I see Diego. I give Johnny a chaste kiss on the cheek and send him on
his way with his buddies before Diego sees.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Izzy?”

Too late.

Johnny hesitates, but I just give him a look that says, ‘
Let
me handle this.’
He nods and trots off after his group. I can see that
they’ve congregated on the corner across the street. If I had to take a guess,
Johnny just wants to make sure, I can handle it.

I turn to stare at Diego. Arms crossed in refusal to answer
his question. I’m beyond pissed that I’m in a situation to even acknowledge
him, but my sense of obligation to his reputation keeps me from setting him off
by ignoring him.

I see that Sebastian’s got a stronghold on Diego’s bicep.
The sight causing passers-by to stop once they’re out from the middle of the
scene unfolding before them. With every passing second, the crowd is increasing
and all will be for naught if we have any measure of an audience seeing Diego
explode.

I walk up to Diego, placing a hand on his chest to settle
him down. It has a visible effect on him. The anger transitions to defeat and I
whisper, “Go home, Diego. I don’t know what you think you’re going to
accomplish here and at this hour, but don’t do this to yourself. I’ll call you
if I feel like talking, okay?”

“If?” the tension back in his shoulders.

“Tell me something, Diego,” keeping my voice barely above a
whisper. “If I missed your birthday party, didn’t answer the hundreds of calls
you made to me, and then found me in the middle of what appeared to be naked
Twister in my bed with not one, but two men, would you want to talk to me?”

“Izzy—,” he starts to plead.

“No, Diego. Not here. Not now. If you ever want me to hear
what you have to say you will go home and wait.” Unable to deny myself the
opportunity to be cruel, I add, “Although, I don’t suggest holding your
breath.”

With that I turn and get into the waiting cab and Mazzy
slides in behind me.

September 2006

“Izzy,” Diego practically shouts. “IZZY, answer me!”

“What?” I say softly. This is exhausting. I don’t want to do
this again. I don’t want to be on this particular roller coaster. This is one
that looks fun from the ground, but once you’re on it, you realize it’s a lot
more brutal and bruises aren’t just a possibility, they’re a given.

I wonder if he even knows where my mind has gone. “What do
you want me to say, Diego?” My anger rising to the surface again. “The first
thing that comes to mind is ‘convenient.’ This,” gesturing to him and then the
air with my right hand, “is all just a little too fucking convenient.

“Honestly Diego…you’ve been pulling away again and I’m
scared as fucking shit, that you’re about to get claustrophobic on me.”

His eyes practically bulge out from his face. “Iz—”

“For fuck’s sake, Diego. Your
story
tonight,” the
anger coursing through me, my hands are involuntarily air quoting story, “is
like a big old present. You put it in a pretty box and wrapped a fucking bow
around it.”

“Izzy—”

“Don’t Izzy me.” I’m pacing the room now, my mind going a mile
a minute. I know that we have a rocky start to our long history, but eight
years later, we’re stronger than ever…well I thought we were. “Remember how you
like to remind me it’s us against the world? Well, it doesn’t fucking feel that
way right now.”

I drop myself to our bed with a sigh and a sob. There’s a
dip in the bed beside me as Diego sits down. I can feel his hesitation to reach
out to me. “Don’t,” I hiss. “You don’t get to fix this by touching me.” I feel
him shrink away at my words.

He pushes off the bed and I track him to his bag by the
door. He’s digging through it frantically. When he’s found what he’s looking for,
he practically sprints back to me. Keeping his distance, he holds out a piece
of paper. “Look,” he holds up the paper. I just stare at his face. “Just look,
Izzy,” he begs. I’m staring into the eyes of a desperate man and it nearly
breaks me.

So, I look.

On the crumpled up pink paper meant for taking and
delivering phone messages, the neat writing clearly confirms the message he was
given.

“Forgive me, Diego, but with every convenient explanation,
I’m smacked with the possibility that it’s all just a story. Misplaced phone.
Erased messages. This,” grabbing the pink slip of paper and holding it up. “All
feels a little too contrived and smells like a whole lotta bullshit.”

“Izzy, you have to trust me.”

My blood boiling again at the thought that this is on me to
believe. That I’m the bad guy if I don’t trust him.
Fuck that.

Standing up, ready for round two, I look at Diego. “Okay,”
my voice dripping with contempt, “let’s pretend for a moment,” I watch his face
wince in pain at my words, “that everything you’re saying is true.” Finishing
with a roll of my eyes. “Then that means someone is fucking with you, D. With
us,” I shout.

I pace the room again. As the truth of what I’ve just said
sinks in, I collapse to the ground, resting my back on the foot of our bed. My
anger lost to the sadness. “Someone’s fucking with us,” I sob.

This time when Diego reaches to touch me, I don’t stop him.
He picks me up from the floor and instinctively, I burrow my head beneath his
chin as he cradles me. Without putting me down, he climbs onto the bed where he
gently lays down with me. My back to his front, we lay there.

My crying has ebbed to hiccup like sobs, Diego runs his hand
up and down my arm and nuzzles the space behind my ear. “Izzy,” his voice is a
whispered plea in my ear, “please believe me?”

I choke on a sob as the streams of tears return. Through the
blubbering, I ask Diego what we were going to do. I hate the whine in my voice,
but right now, I’m feeling vulnerable and helpless. “D, that means someone in
that building today is bent on creating problems.”

“I know, Izzy,” he soothes. “And it’s the first thing I’m
looking into when I get to the stadium—” My tummy growls effectively
interrupting him. “When did you last eat, Izzy?”

“Lunch time?” I form the answer as a question through silent
sobs, my body shakes a little less with each one.

“Damn it, Izzy,” he turns me over to look at him. I must be a
sight, because Diego winces when he sees my face. “You’re pale as shit, Izzy.”
He gets up off the bed. “You put in a movie and I’ll go grab us some food. Any
requests?”

“Whipped cream?” I say with a pout, forming my answer as a
question. The mischief in his eyes pulls up the corner of his half smile,
making me giggle. “You’re so bad.”

“On one condition.”

“Hmmmm…”

“You eat something more filling first,” the waggle in his
eyebrows has my mind wandering and my eyes blazing a trail to his delectable V
and how fulfilling Diego can be.

“Deal.”

October 2006

With my hands bound by the satin belt from my robe and
pinned above my head by his left hand, Diego is taking his time bringing me to
my climax. His rhythm is methodical and torturous. He pumps into me quickly,
pulling out so slowly it brings every nerve to attention without tipping the
scales. He has a tight grip with his right hand on my ass, lifting me off to
meet him.

“Izzy,” Diego grits out with his next pump and licks at my
juices on his lips. “You taste so fucking good.” He releases a slightly pained
groan with his slow retreat. “I could eat you all day.” He looks absolutely
feral. Eyes wide and filled with lust, his hair is demanding to be yanked as it
bounces with his every move. Muscles taught, glistening with sweat, he keeps up
his agonizing pace.

“Diego,” my voice is hoarse. It’s a breathy plea to take me
over the edge and send me tumbling toward a climactic bliss.

“Not yet, Izzy,” he taunts. “I haven’t had my fill of you.”
On his next withdrawal, he’s completely gone and my hips are lifted halfway to
meet his mouth. His eyes stare at me, willing me to watch him over my mound.

“What big eyes you have,” I tease.

“The better to see you with
mi bella
.”

“What big hands you have,” looking to his hands on my hips
and back to his eyes where a hunger sparkles behind the copper flecked russet
brown.

“The better to grip you with
mi bella
.”

“What a long tongue you have,” as he runs it up the sides of
my sopping seam.

“The better to lick you with
mi bella
.”

I know he’s waiting, he’s waiting to pounce with my next
tease.

“What a glorious mouth you have,” I praise.

“The better to eat you with
mi bella
,” he plunges his
tongue into my pulsing pussy. I lurch up with my hips attempting to drive his
tongue deeper into my core.

I lose track of time as his tongue deftly massages and
penetrates my pussy. I’m nearly a breath away from toppling over the proverbial
edge. When Diego senses it, he drops my hips, presses my legs apart and buries
the length of himself into me in one fluid motion. The fullness so sudden a
gasp escapes past my lips and he groans. His eyes connect with mine and he’s so
close, I can see the finish line in them.

He grinds his hips into me, slow deep circles rocking me to
my finish. Still bound I bring my hands over Diego’s head, yanking on his hair
in the process. His moan is guttural and mixed with need.

I pull his head down, his lips hovering above mine. I stare
as he licks at his lips, the act a fucking turn on. I close the distance, plunge
my tongue past his lips and swirl it in a dance with his. Diego continues to
circle his hips, grinding his pelvis into my clit.

Switching gears, he thrusts into me. In and out, as I deepen
the kiss, suckling his tongue before he pulls away. We both gasp for air when
the kiss is broken. He continues to punish my pussy with every spine-tingling
thrust. And then just like that, I’m tumbling somewhere between wakefulness and
sleep. I’m floating on a cloud of bliss, and I don’t want to come down. I feel
the orgasm ripple to my fingers and back to my core. Soon, Diego is joining me
and my name is a roar passing through gritted teeth.

When our climaxes have ebbed, Diego props himself up on one
elbow to face me. “Fuck, Izzy. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were
tighter.”

I laugh at his observation. “And if I didn’t know any
better, you implied that I was loose.”
Aha ha
. He’s not so amused by
mine. “Wasn’t there a chapter in your
What to Expect When You’re Expecting
about that? Something about more blood in my nether regions because of the
baby?” I shrug, because I can’t remember anything more than the fact that
pregnancy causes memory loss and forgetfulness commonly referred to as baby
brains.

Diego rolls to his back and out of bed. The sight of the
sinuous muscles cording his back makes my mouth water. I’m in love with every
part of my saint with a crooked halo. I know that our paths to the here and
now, while paved with some heartbreak, are solidly stuck together. Those
wanting to tear us down—apart—be damned.

Diego did as he said; he’s looking into the false message
and the situation with his phone. Sasha was kind enough to make her resources
at the facility available to him. He was optimistic that they’d figure it out
within a week.

He remained incredibly busy, but he made an effort to be
more attentive every chance he got. His endorsement and team obligations have
nearly doubled since Bean was—per doctor’s orders—put on leave. Sasha was
running the team now and it was a lot more of a look-at-me approach to the
management of the team. I can’t, in good faith, complain. Diego’s gotten two
more endorsement deals since she took over.

“Izzy,
mi bella preciosa
,” I heard it in the slight
hitch of his voice—he wants something.

“Did I not just give you something?” I shake my tits and
wink at him, earning me a chuckle.

“You most certainly did, but I want something else.” He
gives me his version of a pout. He’s tugging on his bottom lip with teeth and
looking completely edible, even if he’s not as naked as he was a moment ago.

“I can’t tell you what it is. Will you just trust me?” he’s
testing our bond, making sure I’m not pretending.

“Hmmm…Is there any chance I can bribe it out of you?” He
shakes his head. I purse my lips together and stretch them to one side in
contemplation. That gets me another chuckle and I swear that’s what tips the
scales in his favor. “Okay. What can you tell me?”

He tosses a bag to me. Clearly, he’d been anticipating my
question. “Put those clothes on and meet me in the hallway in ten minutes,” and
he turns to walk out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

I’m a minute late when I step out of our room and into the
hallway. Diego’s standing there in a similarly matched outfit to me in a white
t-shirt and khaki cargo shorts—his are knee-length where mine barely cover the
tops of my thighs. We even have on matching white canvas sneakers. I laugh at
the almost golf club appearance about us.

Diego just holds out his hand for mine. When I place my hand
in his, he brings my knuckles to his lips and places soft kisses across them. “Flores
got us into the nearby country club for an early dinner.” I can feel my eyes
bug out and my jaw drop with the shock of his admission and my assessment of
our outfits.

And then he lets out the best laugh ever. It’s a rumbling
that sends a shockwave through me and leaves my body purring. “Gotcha,”
he
thinks he’s so funny
. My shock turns to scrutiny. “
Vámonos, mi bella
preciosa
.” He pulls me into him and walks us to the other end of the hall
where there is a smaller bedroom—the one I daydreamed about being the baby’s
room.

Diego opens the door and I’m stunned by the pale blue
painted upper section of the walls and the unfinished bottom section. In the
middle of the room on a wall-to-wall drop cloth, is an assortment of supplies.
I think I see bubbles.
Bubbles?

“Where do I start, D?”

“Just let me explain. You haven’t mentioned it yet, but I
haven’t forgotten that today is the anniversary of your parents’ passing.

“
Oh my god.”
I can’t believe I forgot.

“Remember? It just means that you’re in a happy place and
not that you’ve forgotten them.”

I nod, letting go the annoyance at hearing my own words
repeated back to me, because curiosity about what we’re doing in this room has
a stronger hold on my attention.

“I know that one of your favorite things is bubbles because
it now reminds you of your mom and dad and your childhood. Kris, Donovan’s
wife, was doing a craft with her kids when I stopped by their house the other
day. They added different colors of food dye to bubbles and then used the
bubbles to color pieces of paper. So,” he says pointing to the supplies in the
center of the room, “with some research, I’ve found a way for us to do
something similar with this room, the one we want to use for the baby,” he
places his hand on my belly. “I painted the room when you were out with Grace
the other day. I got fans to help blow around the bubbles. I got every color in
the rainbow in bubbles. Let’s see…oh and bubble machines, “he points to the
four different machines, one in each corner propped up on makeshift tables.
“That’s where our country club outfits come into play.” I scrunch up my nose in
confusion. He kisses the tip. “With the colored bubbles flying around while we
add our own bubbles to the mix,” he walks to the pile of supplies and picks up
the tiniest pair of white canvas sneakers I’ve ever seen and a white onesie,
“the three of us will have uniquely different and the same shirts and shoes.”

When my jaw drops, he admits that he may have had some help
from Mazzy. “I’d like to take all the credit, but I don’t think this whole
matching shirts, shoes, and onesie thing would have even come close to
registering on my list of ideas.”

“That bitch is so crafty,” I deadpan, it earns me a quick
tickle. Diego leans down to grab some of the supplies, the first I recognize
are goggles.

“
Safety first,” he says handing me mine.

“Too late for that,” I mumble under my breath while rubbing
my belly. I take the glasses and put them on my head, but not over my eyes.

Diego starts going through the process, but it all comes
down to, “What color do you want to start with and which wand?”

He has a plethora of options. Wands that have ginormous—
I
shit you not
—bubbles, a string of gradually shrinking bubbles from handle
to tip, wands with special groupings and more. The color choices were simpler.
He had enough of the six colors in the rainbow. “Orange and that,” pointing to
the wand that sort of resembles a bedroom toy we have. He quirks his eyebrow up
at me and I know he’s thinking the same thing as me. I give him an unapologetic
shrug.

We experimented with how to blow the bubbles onto the wall
after Diego switched on the bubble machines. He chose the slowest speed
possible and said we could switch the colors around after a little bit.

We spent the next couple of hours bubbling up what will be
the nursery walls. We added messages to the wall for the little one with words
of wisdom, wishes for him or her, and love notes. The bubbles weren’t exactly
moving on their own, it was quite the workout to get them to reach the ceiling
or even land on the wall. Eventually, we resorted to blowing bubbles into a cup
of the bubble solution and dye like we would milk when we were kids. We would
then land blown cluster of bubbles off and onto the wall.

It’s nearly dinnertime and I’m one hundred percent spent. I
convinced Diego to let me up on the ladder to get to the ceiling. And this only
happened if I agreed to let him hold me and the ladder while I did it. This
only lasted as long as a few spots. It was far quicker and easier for him to
reach and get it covered. I decided dictating wand type and color choice was my
best contribution to the ceiling.

As Mazzy must have expected, our white t-shirts and sneakers
were sufficiently covered in color. We had to move the baby onesie and shoes a
few times and then added our own touches when the bubbles just weren’t landing
on them. Diego handled clean up while I went to lie down. I was going to fix
dinner, but he already arranged for Alfred to whip us up something.