Seducing Her Rival (11 page)

What killed her was that, like Cole, Lucas could afford the gown. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even blink at the price. He’d already committed two grand to Better Todays, so she couldn’t give him grief about how he spent his money, but it still gnawed at her. If it wasn’t just a game anymore—and damn her for not being sure—how could she exist in a world where that kind of money was normal? Where
luxury
was normal? She didn’t know where she fit in that picture. Did Lucas?

What would he think of her if he knew her past? Knew that because she and her rich boyfriend had needed a fix a kid had gotten shot? Because she’d been too stupid to read the writing on the wall with her ex?

He’d find out soon enough though. There’d be no avoiding it if they kept the conversation up—there’d be no avoiding anything. It was time to give up what was left of the game. She’d lost herself to him whether she wanted to or not. Maybe when her history came out she could make him understand how much the kids of Queens needed the playground…maybe he’d call his hounds off the property.

If
that
wasn’t a wish fulfillment fantasy right there, she didn’t know what was. Maybe the dress. But she wasn’t Cinderella, and her fairy godmother was back in Queens trying to make sure their grants came through before Bellamy Enterprises got their zoning approved.

Could Lucas’s happily ever after have room in it for an ex-druggie from Queens? And could she ever be the type of woman who walked into a store and bought something extravagant just because, without beating herself up with guilt? She stared at the dress for another long minute then sighed and walked away from the shop without a backward glance.

Chapter Ten

Lucas stood in the shadow of a tree, sipping his coffee, and watched as Mercedes stared longingly at the dress in the window. Then she walked away without even bothering to go in and try it on. She’d done the same thing at every place she stopped in front of. Instead of heading to another store, she stepped purposefully into the cupcake shop.

Was that really how women shopped when they were alone? Somehow he doubted it—except maybe the cupcake part. No, this was likely a combination of her money woes and whatever thoughts plagued her mind enough to make her walk out this morning.

She said she’d meet him for lunch, so he wasn’t overly wor
ried about he
r dashing out. She obviously needed space for a little while. The former issue he could do something about though, at least this time. Setting aside his empty cup, he strode into the shop.

A young woman about Mercedes’s height with sun-bleached hair smiled at him, recognition lighting her eyes. “Can I help you, Mr. Bellamy?”

“Yes, I want to buy a dress for a friend. She’s about your height…”

Within thirty minutes, the dress was wrapped in the pretty white box he had tucked under his arm. He headed back toward his suite but he had one more stop to make first.

…

Mercedes’s smile was a little too forced when she came back to the suite for lunch. Lucas didn’t move from the piano, continuing to play, wondering when she’d notice the box on the bar behind her.

“The piano still works?”

He laughed, his hands still moving like they had a mind of their own.

“I’ve never heard that song before. It’s beautiful.” She perched on the bench next to him.

His fingers kept dancing over the keys. “Enjoy it now because it’ll never be heard again.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t actually play. My mother hired half-a-dozen people to try to drill lessons into my head when I was little. I learned just enough to not sound like shit when I mess aro
und.” He finished the improvised number with a flourish and grinned at her. “However, if you’d like to hear the one song I remember from years and years of lessons…” Without waiting for a response, he tapped out “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”

As he’d hoped, the ridiculousness of the moment caused a real smile to burst into being as she laughed. “Fantastic. Your teachers would be proud.” Her expression started to slip, but before he could open his mouth to say anything, she leaned against him, nibbling at his jaw. “Take me to bed?”

His gaze flashed to the box even as his other brain took over. The dress could wait.

He stood and swept her into his arms, making her laugh again. “What? You specifically said to
take
you to bed. I’m only following orders.” Of course, as soon as she had his clothes off, Mercedes shoved him onto the mattress. “This is a change.”

“Not at all. You seemed to like it when I took charge before.” And the darkness in her eyes said she needed to do so again now, needed to control this moment.

Lucas was nothing if not a giver, so when she slithered up his body to take him in her mouth, he wasn’t about to tell her she couldn’t. Then she did that thing with her tongue that he was pretty sure was illegal in a few countries, and he lost the ability to tell her anything at all.

He gripped the edge of the mattress in both hands, knowing if he touched her, he’d want to take over, and his princess needed to rule. When she climbed on top of him a few minutes later, she rode him with a frenzy he could hardly match. This wasn’t what he’d planned. He’d wanted to show her how precious she was and this frantic lovemaking was desperate and feral. Mercedes clawed at his chest as she contracted around him, squeezing his length until he thought he wouldn’t be able to bear it anymore.

He had to touch her. His hands found her hips and cradled them, squeezing gently as he rose to meet her thrusts, trying to slow her pace. Letting out a sound that was half growl, half moan, she grabbed his hands and slid them up to her breasts.

Clearly now was not the moment she wanted to be cherished. She needed
this
, whatever it was for her. He just needed her. Squeezing and rolling her nipples in his fingers, he lost the rhythm and gave himself over to her completely.

The woman undid him—every touch, every stroke made him yearn for more, for her, in ways he’d never thought possible. Then her muscles clenched on him as she came again. Still, she didn’t stop moving, pumping him as her insides spasmed around his length until he had no choice but to follow her into the wondrous momentary oblivion of orgasm. As soon as he’d finished, Lucas sat up to kiss the nipples he’d abused moments before.

Mercedes wrapped her arms around him, pressing his head against her breasts, and didn’t let go. Finally able to show her the gentleness, the caring, he felt, Lucas ran his hands up and down the silky skin of her back, letting her cling to him for as long as she needed. After several minutes, she sighed and her entire body relaxed.

Lucas eased her onto the bed and shifted his hands to brush the long black hair from her face. “Is there something you want to talk about?”

“
Amado
, you talk too much.” She nestled her head in the hollow between his shoulder and chest, splaying her hand on his stomach.

“That I do. Can’t blame a guy for wanting to know everything about you though.”

“Of course I can. Avoid asking stupid, general questions and I’ll tell you anything you want to know. I promised.” Her eyelashes fluttered against his skin, tickling, as she snuggled closer, clearly planning on a nap.

He ran his hand up and down her side, trying to soothe what remained of her earlier agitation, when his fingers came to rest on her hip. He’d been curious about the tattoo since the first time he saw it. A pair of roses, their stems twined together like they’d grown that way. Only… One had vicious looking thorns, the kind that would stick you and leave a scar. The other had no thorns at all. “Okay. Just one, and then I’ll let you rest. What’s the story behind your ink?”

Her cheeks moved as she smiled. “That’s an easy one. Kelsey and I got matching tattoos during spring break our senior year of college. We drove for two days to reach Mexico and slept on the beach. Every dime we had went to gas, food, booze, and the tattoos. And then we drove back. Missed classes on Monday because we thought we could get back in two days, too. Neither of us took into account how tired we’d be.”

“That’s a great memory but not what I meant. What’s the story behind the two roses? I’ve seen a lot of tattoos in my day, a fair number of them flowers, but yours is unique in the way it’s done.”

She swatted at his chest, her hand bouncing off his pecs. “I thought you said you’d let me rest.” Wrapping her leg over his, she slithered closer and let her hand drift south, like she thought that would distract him.

Obviously she didn’t know him as well as she thought. “And I will, right after you answer the question like you said you would.”

She grumbled something in Spanish before propping herself on her elbow and gazing down at him, challenge lighting her dark eyes. “The roses are me and Kelsey. We wanted something that represented the two of us. Kelsey is the kind of woman who goes with the flow and lets things roll off her. Nothing gets to her and she’s always there to help. Then there’s me. I’m prickly. I have pent up anger and pain. I’m the one who attacks when things go wrong.”

“And somehow you think that makes her better?”

Shaking her head, she scoffed at him. “Tell me how many times you would buy the roses with thorns over the ones that won’t prick your lady’s pretty little fingers.”

Lucas propped up opposite Mercedes, slid his hand up her body, swooping with her curves, and then combed his fingers through the length of her hair. “Funny thing about roses. The flower’s the part the animals want to eat, the part that smells good and looks most beautiful. Do you know what happens in the wild to roses without thorns? They get devoured first. The roses with thorns are the ones that know how precious they are. They also know that protection starts with the self.”

“
Dios
. Did you mother have people tutor you in poetry, too? Does this sort of thing ever work?” Her words had an edge to them, but the softness in her gaze and the way she bit her lip for a second told a different story—one of a woman who wanted to believe.

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never said anything like that to anyone else.” He closed the distance between them and kissed her, slowly, deeply, until he forgot how to breathe. “All I know for sure is
I
know how precious you are, and I adore you and your thorny nature.” Her eyes widened the tiniest bit and he smiled, taking less than a second to decide he should press his advantage. “If you’re really curious about how I feel, there’s a little something for you in the other room.”

…

Merced
es froze.

He said adore. That was half a step away from love.

Granted he’d said it in tandem with talking about her personality, but…he’d still said it. He hadn’t even blinked when he did it. As much as she wanted to rail against it, tell him he was crazy and that they’d only known each other a few days, she’d been calling him her beloved since that first damn night. And this was what she’d been working toward, but…was any of it even real?

No. It couldn’t be. Because he didn’t know the truth. Didn’t know the real her.

The whole idea was nuts. She was just a fiery, emotion-driven Latina. Of course endearments would fall easily from her lips. That wasn’t anything crazy—probably just a trait she’d picked up from her mother without noticing. But Lucas… Did this mean something? Anything?

And if it didn’t, why was she shaking so badly as she walked back into the living room, his sheet wrapped around her body? Her bare feet scuffed against the short, tight carpeting, almost tripping over nothing when she spied the box resting on the bar. Her heart beat a strange staccato that urged her to bolt—run out the door and down the corridor, leaving him behind once again.

She’d promised herself no more running though. Whatever there was between them, she was going to see it through, even though she had a hard time believing it could end in anything other than heartache.

She had to give the gift back though. With that future in the cards, she needed to pick up the box, take it back into the bedroom, and tell him she couldn’t accept it—whatever it was.

Instead her fingers pulled on the red ribbon, untying the elaborate bow in one simple move. Then her traitorous hands lifted the lid and folded back the tissue.

No manches…que padre
.

No longer even considering the consequences of her actions, Mercedes reached into the box and lifted the dress. In a slither of silk and chiffon, it unfolded, the hem swishing against her toes. Just as she’d thought when she caught sight of it in the window downstairs, it was the most beautiful gown she’d ever seen.

This was what Lucas thought of her.

Her heart slowed down so quickly it could have stopped and she wouldn’t have noticed. The money. He spent all that money on a dress? Then his arms were around her and he pressed a kiss to her hair, and she remembered how to breathe.

“This is the kind of thing princesses wear,” she said, negativity taking hold as she dwelled on the cost. It was money she hadn’t earned and didn’t deserve. “I’m not a princess.”

“I disagree, but every girl deserves to feel like a princess at some point. I’m pretty sure you didn’t get the chance when you were younger, and there’s no time quite like the present.”

Shaking her head, she tried to force herself to put the dress back. It was too much—too real. “The money this cost…it could do so much more good than to throw it on me for one night.”

“Then when you get back home, auction it off. Sell it. Use the cash for something better, but for tonight, wear the dress.” He nuzzled her neck and her voice stopped working, lost to the gown and his touch. “And you’re going to get some princess shoes, too. I also have you booked at the spa to have your hair and nails done. Tonight is your night; I want you to look the part.”

“But—”

“Before you say a word, I know how these things work. The people you’re after—the ones with, as you put it, ‘more money than sense’—they want to see someone like them up there speaking. It makes them feel safe, like they can believe you won’t squander their donation. Trust me on this.”

“But I’m not like them. I’m not like
you
.” The truth of the statement hit her like a fist to the gut. She
wasn’t
like him, and the dress, the primping, all of it just brought the fact home again. Regardless of his pretty words and saying he adored her, he could only care about her the way someone loved a wild thing—nice to look at, but it gets left behind when it’s time to go home.

“Tonight you are.”

And tomorrow she’d be herself again, no matter what Lucas seemed to think. That was the world she knew. The one she trusted and understood.