“Anyway, I’ve literally bought beers for the team over a hundred times in the past, when going up against Cooper. Save my purse, Dario, save me.”
Save me. Peachy’s pretty brown eyes, her tone. I blink, and LeAnna is before me, begging me to save her from El Diablo, mi hermano. I’m El Santo. Saving them is what I do.
Nodding, I ask, “What do you need, Peachy?”
“I have my laptop in the car. You can keep a secret, can’t you?” Peachy saunters over to me, trailing her hand over the bristles at my jaw. “I love the look, by the way. Not so clean anymore.”
If you only knew, puta. I grin at her, saying, “Get your laptop. Sign in. Tell me what you need.”
I never had access to Detective Peachy Osong’s information. But I will today. All-access to Detective Carrington’s passwords was a blessing in the beginning. Then I created a backdoor into the program on all his devices—computer, police-issued cell phone, tablet—which allowed me unlimited access.
Peachy sashays outside. I pull out my cellphone, tap a few buttons to relink the connection between LeAnna and Dominic’s cell phones. Then I wait to pull the strings with Detective Osong.
Go time.
Chapter Forty-Five
Dominic
“You murdered my vibe,” Yasiel says, closing the passenger door of my ride.
I zip down the window. “Come here, niño.”
He looks to his mother, who is walking toward the gated entrance of their apartment building. Huffing loudly, he returns his attention to me.
“You’re not on vacation, Yasielito.”
“Dude, I have a papi.”
“Sí, y tías y tíos. A big-ass familia, me included. Two more days of suspension.”
He snorts. “I’m counting ‘em!”
“Let’s make a bet. I’ll have you running to school when your suspension is over.”
“Already thought about it, Dominic!” He gives me a two-finger salute before hustling off again.
Smiling, I drive off, reminiscing on how much we are alike when I was young. Even our family dynamic was the same. A papi whose only passion was work and his wife. A mami with hot peppers in her blood when it came to raising her children. But I’ll admit, for all my mami’s wisdom and cup towels, I, my papi’s version of a perfect son, was headed down the wrong road. Masculinity isn’t the only necessity when setting the foundation for father and son.
My phone rings, and I press the button on my steering wheel to answer.
“Hey, I texted you.” Aria pouts.
“You did?” I glance down at my phone. All during my lunch break, I was in suspense, waiting for a tit pic that never came. I notice a message from two hours ago. How did I miss that? “I see. But it’s not what I asked for.”
“What kind of sex machine are you, Dominic? I’ll need—never mind. No complaints here. Now, will you respond to my other text message?”
I glance at the text message again, which I also hadn’t noticed before. “The one where you’re reneging on cooking me dinner. I have to go out? Dancing?”
“You can’t dance?” She gasps.
“Don’t disrespect me, I’m Cuban, mami. You dance?”
She chuckles. “Wear steel-toe boots, and you won’t have to find out if I’m a novice.”
I shake my head. “No woman of mine is—”
“Woman of yours? Dominic, as your reformed stalker, I’ll remind you, you’re not a fan of claiming.”
Damn, I did claim her. First, when we were at the police station with Antonio, I’ll admit to the caveman jealousy. This second slipup is without justification.
Years of fucking for sport implode before my eyes. I admire Aria’s bravery and her dedication to her twin. I want to be the reason she knows how blindingly beautiful she is. She has all the qualities in a woman I never needed and still don’t.
She is mine. Every curvy inch of her is mine to satiate. Her pussy to drink. Her lips to curve. Her throat to scream my name. Her back to arch. Her ass to spank.
“So,” Aria clears her throat. “Chula is a cute word in lieu of . . .”
Fisting the steering wheel, I growl. “Aria, I wrote my name on your pussy with my fucking tongue. You are mine.”
As the private elevator coasts upward, bringing me closer to Aria, the need in me is savage. Aria Jones no longer a conquest. I run my calloused palms together, imagining her tinder, mahogany skin.
I unleash another button on my dark, hunter-green suit, as the elevator doors slide open. I’m acutely aware Aria’s eyes are all over me as I hear a groan of appreciation. My gaze catches her, and I return the favor.
“Mami.” My timber levels out at a loss for words. Aria glows. Somehow, we’re color coordinated. I step out of the elevator and to her. My hands splay against the sides of her olive-green cutout dress. Her side cleavage beckons me for a taste. Lips lowering to hers, my mouth lingers for a caress I pray is more worship than sexual. Attraction currents through me like a tidal wave to my heart and to my soul. My cock is heavier than ever.
Aria shudders against my touch. My hands trail down to the silky material coming together at her waist. I nip her earlobe. “I’m going to dance with you now, then eat you before we hit the dance floor.”
“Dom . . .” she murmurs, though her pretty browns beg for submission. “Wa-wait.”
“Last time you had my dick in your mouth, we couldn’t wait to get inside. Fuck the bedroom. I want you right here, right now, mami.” I descend to my knees. My hands clasp her ass. The thought of waiting for a second longer twists my gut with a dark hunger.
“Dom, ahem, I’d like to introduce you to my,” her voice is tiny, flushed with desire and embarrassment, “my cousin and her husband.”
Aye, compañía. Giving her ass a last squeeze, I stand to my feet. Beneath the magnificent brown glow, Aria’s face takes on a red hue.
Standing at the entrance of the kitchen is a dark-skinned woman. She grins as I extend my hand. “I’m Cuban. This is how we greet our women.”
“Don’t mind us, proceed.”
“I may have to add that greeting to my repertoire, mate,” her British companion says.
“You better, Linc,” the wife replies in a singsong tone.
Aria clears her throat. “Dominic, this is my cousin Siobhan, her husband, Lincoln Zager. Surprise! They appeared out of thin air. Siobhan begged to go dancing.”
I run my hands down Aria’s shoulders. “Then we show them a thing or two.”
Siobhan places a hand on her hip. “Did my little cuz learn to dance in the last few weeks . . . or was it longer?”
Aria laughs a little. “Ha, don’t bait me. I’m gonna grab my purse.”
“Dom, she might need a little assistance.” Siobhan grins. “We’ll meet you all outside.”
“Siobhan,” Aria groans. Lincoln presses on the elevator button while I follow her to the bedroom. When we step inside, she closes the double doors. The desire that teemed through us both at first sight returns. I step toward her.
“Dominic, wait-wait.”