Page 102 of The Crush
“I wasn’t exactly fleeing.” She gives me a look. “Okay, maybe I was. I didn’t think I would be able to go through with it otherwise.”
Her eyes search mine. “And now?”
“Seeing as how I didn’t even make it a night on the couch…”
“Danny.” Her hands cup my face so I have no choice but to meet her gaze. “Do you actually want to go back to the DEA? Because if that’s what you want, we can—”
“No, I never really wanted—I didn’t want to leave you.Youare what I want, and even if I’d gone back, I would’ve gone back wanting you.” I catch one of her hands with mine, my heart thudding in my chest as I kiss her palm. “I’malwaysgoing to want you, Isabel.”
“I’m always going to want you, too, but I think you know that now,” she tells me, her lips curving and her eyes searching my face. “Would you have come back? If you had left?”
“And have to see you living a life with someone else after I fucked up? Married to someone else? Holding someone else’s kids?” I manage to stop myself there for a moment, but if she can be honestabout the past then I can be honest about the future. “I want it all, Isabel. I want everything with you.”
I barely manage to keep myself upright as she crushes herself to me, her mouth on mine as she shifts in my lap, and the hitch in her breathing when I press back into her lets me know I’m definitely not the only one getting ideas.
Even with most of her family down the hall, I want her bad enough that I wouldn’t hesitate if she gave me the word. I can be quiet. I can help keep her quiet.
“Everything?” she repeats between kisses, her arms wrapped tight around me as if still afraid I’ll slip away even as I nod. “Does that include the kids?”
“Yes, if…if you want them,” I murmur, gripping the plush weight of her thighs, my thumbs rubbing small, slow circles into her skin that could be interpreted as soothing. For her and for me. That is, if I wasn’t really picturing doing it somewhere else… Christ, she’s so pretty when she comes, and even though it’s only been a couple hours, it feels like it’s been far longer since I’ve seen it.
“I want them. With you, I want them,” she says, rolling her hips to grind against me while my mouth seeks her throat. She trembles, sighs softly. “Let’s start now.”
“Fuck, I love you.” I tug her shirt collar to the side to expose the slope of her shoulder, my teeth digging in enough to remind her without leaving a reminder. She lets out a soft moan, and all I can think about is getting her onto her back, legs spread for me, her hands in my hair, and that mouth—
There’s another surge of sound from down the hall, but I really don’t give a fuck if the whole house falls down. I’ll build a new one.I’ll rebuild this oneandone for her and me if that’s what it takes to get some fucking privacy so I can have her all the ways I want.
A soft knock on the door follows a few seconds later that I refuse to hear, foolishly and desperately hoping that if I ignore it, they’ll surely fuck off.
The knock immediately gets louder.
“God,what?” Isabel snaps, annoyed, though her voice is still breathy enough that it gives me a healthy dose of satisfaction.
There’s a pause until, on the other side of the door, Gabe sounds truly aggrieved to be the messenger as he says, “You’re being summoned.”
Eighty-Two
Isabel
Less than ten minutes later we’ve both quickly andseparatelyshowered, both dressed in chore clothes, Daniel’s still-wet hair as close to manageable as he can get it while mine dries in a braid as we make our way down the hall toward the kitchen.
There’s less activity now. My brothers and Tadeo must have already been herded outside, though I can still hear my mamá moving around the kitchen.
I’m almost to the doorway when the sharp ring of the telephone breaks the quiet, the sound exceedingly short-lived due to the way the handset is promptly picked up, then abruptlycrashedback down into the cradle within half a second. The accompanying string of profanity that follows is so at odds with the voice that creates it I draw up short only to have Daniel do the same.
“Have youeverheard her curse like that?” he mutters close to my ear as he stands behind me, and I shake my head.
“Daniel Alejandro. Isabel María,” she shouts from the kitchen, still thinking we’re down the hall judging by the volume and the use of our middle names. Daniel freezes as I try not to laugh at his wary expression.
“Coming,” I call back quickly, before muttering to Daniel, “Probably shouldn’t keep her waiting. Makes it worse.”
He grumbles something unintelligible in response.
“What was that?”
“I said she’s not the only one being forced to wait,” he tells me with a huff, and I stifle another laugh, making a point to lean back and brush against him more than is wise with my mamá in the next room. “Isabel…”
“Sorry.”
