Love Turns With Twisted Fates (Truth About Love Book 2) Page 13

  “What’s that all about, Iz?”

  “Shall I start from the beginning?”

  She nods.

  I tell her about my plans to give Diego a piece of my mind, admitting I couldn’t just let it go and then the scene I found at Diego’s dorm room. Her jaw drops with that bit of information, but I continue on. Recalling the parking lot scene and how I lost my shit in the cab.

  “Fuck, Izzy.” She’s stunned speechless.

  I just nod my agreement. I finish with the incident at the bar when I got back here. She chuckles.

  “Now that you know, it’s time for me to forget.” I grab last of the two shots from Mr. Suit and down it without a second thought. When I look over he’s still staring and his eyebrow is lifted in a question. ‘Well?’

  There’s a break in the karaoke and I take it as my opportunity to answer his question. I smirk back at him and walk up to the karaoke operator. I ask him if he had Christina Aguilera’s Come on Over Baby; he confirmed with a nod. I instruct him to slow it down a notch.

  I grabbed the mic and took the stage. The words scroll on the screen in front of me and the projection screen behind me, but I don’t need them. I look at Mr. Tonight and start.

  The tequila coursing through me makes it easier to move and gyrate on the stage in front of my audience. When the chorus comes, I’m ready to replace the unnecessary ‘love’ in the lyrics. “You better cross the line, I’m gonna do you right.”

  He never breaks our gaze. A smirk pulls up in one corner with the chorus every time. I’m sure my word swap is the opposite of subtle, but I’m inebriated beyond caring. I need something good to accompany this numb, because when I wake up in the morning there will only be pain.

  When the song ends, I nod to Mr. Suit gesturing to the side of the bar where there’s an empty booth. He stands up and his buddies are slapping him on the back. I resist the eye roll until I’m off stage and tucked behind a gaggle of sorority girls vying for their chance at the stage and attention.

  Mazzy just gives me a smirk. I know part of her wants to be my voice of reason, but she must sense that tonight is not the night for reason. She smacks my ass as I pass her to the booth just beyond where our table is.

  I meet Mr. Suit at the booth and I sit, legs crossed at the ankles my knees turned in toward him, my skirt pulling up with the motion. The jump of his eyes to my bared skin gives me the confidence I need.

  “I’m Izzy,” holding out my hand for him to shake.

  “Izzy, it is a delight,” he practically hums his approval. “Johnny.” Taking my hand in his right and closing the left over it, he brings it to his lips.

  His mannerisms, the quality of his suit, and the stunning timepiece on his wrist says he’s older than he looks. I see now that his eyes are a beautiful swirl of hazel trimmed in green.

  After a brief wave of swaying, I inform Johnny of my intentions. “You’re hot and I’m pissed off. I’m just looking for right now. Tonight. Tomorrow, I’m going to wake up and realize that no amount of hot,” gesturing to him, “will make the truth of my life disappear. If you’re game, we can play pretend until the sun comes up.”

  His eyes fill with mirth. “I’m good for more than a night, Izzy, but I get what you’re saying and I’ll make you a deal.”

  I tilt my head. He’s piqued my interest.

  “It would be easy and wonderful to get wrapped up in you for the night, but I have a feeling you’re worth more than one night. So, we’ll go as far as our public setting allows us,” he pulls out a business card and a pen from the inner pocket of his suit jacket. He scribbles down some numbers on the back. “When you wake up and the pain is no longer there, you can call me.”

  I shake my head like it’s not going to happen.

  “I’m not saying it’ll happen tomorrow or the next day or the day after that, but at some point, it’ll stop and you’ll have my number.” He turns on the charm in his eyes and I don’t know if it’s him or the alcohol, but I’m slightly swooning.

  Needing to interject some reality back into the situation I ask him how old he is. He doesn’t hesitate to tell me he’s thirty-six years young. I choke on his answer, but it doesn’t take away from his incredible good looks and the way my body is now buzzing from his proximity.

  “So what brings you out tonight? Unless you get dressed up like this,” gesturing to my dress, “to chase away the pain.”

  “Actually,” I chuckle, “it’s my birthday!”

  I think I see anger flash behind his eyes, but it’s rapidly replaced with mischief, I may be mistaken.

  He takes this moment to answer the calls and gestures from his buddies still hanging out at the bar. I explain that I’ll be joining my friends at our tables if he and his would like to join us.

  A few minutes pass and the waitress brings over a couple bottles of Cristal Rose, followed by Johnny and his friends. We’re exchanging introductions when I realize Mazzy is M-I-A. I’m standing and looking around the group in confusion.

  Johnny wraps his arm around my waist and gestures with the free one towards the stage. There on the stage is Mazzy. “Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Mazzy, and I’m going to sing happy birthday to my best friend, Izzy.”

  After her Marilyn Monroe-esque breathy rendition of the birthday song, Johnny pours our now large group a round of the champagne he had sent over. We settle into a friendly banter, while some of us take turns singing on stage. They make last call and a rather loud and collective groan comes from the group at our tables.

  Knowing there’s more than a twenty-minute cab ride home in my future, I excuse myself to use the restroom. On my exit, I’m surprised by Johnny. His eyes say he’s ready to pounce, but his composure is nothing but relaxed.

  “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.

  Chapter Sixteen:

  There’s Hope for the Hopeless

  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.”

  Chapter Seventeen:

  My First, My Last, My Everything

  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 t
ongue 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.