Heather held out her hand. It trembled as she clasped Anton’s. Without hesitation he pulled her into his arms in what I knew was a bone-crushing hug. I’d been on the other side of those arms when he was worried or frightened. “Never doubt my love for you. H, you are the most talented woman I know. You keep me going. Having my sister, my hermana, my mejor amiga making sure I’m taken care of, getting us the best contracts, that’s my dream come true. I’m sorry I didn’t do it earlier.”
She sniffed into his neck, tears rolling down her cheeks. I hugged myself not able to give them privacy. It was too beautiful to witness.
“H, we’re going to have to hire us a new PA. You’re going to be too busy to be dealing with our day-to-day necessities. Oooh, hire a sexy little Latina?” His eyes twinkled, and a sexy grin slipped across his lips.
She shook her head. “Oh, hell no. You’ll be banging her in five seconds. I’m hiring a gay man! End of. Nothing to distract either one of us.”
Anton shrugged. “Party pooper.” He swung her around and set her on her feet. “Now can you call that bastardo that’s trying to steal you from me and tell him you’re off the market, that you’ve been promoted and to fuck way off. If I see that slimy hijo de puta I’m not going to be kind. He tried to take my girl away from me.”
Heather chuckled. “He’s actually really nice.” Anton’s head shot around and he glared at her showing his teeth. “Okay, okay! I’ll tell him today I’m not interested.”
His eyes softened and he smiled.
On that note, I tiptoed out of the dance studio and headed for my home away from home. Things were now right in the world. Well, in Anton and Heather’s world. It was yet to be determined how I’d move on with Weston. Tomorrow would tell.
Chapter 7
Studying myself in the mirror I figured this outfit would do. The top half of the black dress was a ribbed tank-top style, the bottom loose and flowy to about two inches above the knee. It was cute. I scanned my back and front one more time. I felt sexy, young, hip, yet still me. Casual Mia. Instead of putting on sky-high wedges that matched, I stayed barefoot. Wes would be here soon, and I had no idea what his plans were. Would we talk? Make out? Would it be weird since this was the first time we were seeing each other face-to-face since our hookup in March.
Hookup. I cringed. That sounded too “casual ho” for my liking. Besides, Wes would tan my hide if I called myself a ho. He’d probably consider our romp in March an extension of our long-term friends with benefits relationship. It reminded me of a time when we just first met.
“What are we toasting to?” I ask.
“How about to being friends?” He grins setting a warm hand high on my thigh, much higher than a ‘friend’ would. It feels good there. “Good friends.” His eyes drop to my mouth as I bite my bottom lip.
“Friends with benefits?” I inquire, lifting an eyebrow for maximum effect and crossing my legs. That hand of his went a few inches higher until it brushes along bare thigh.
His gaze focuses on mine making me feel warm, positively hot, under his intense look. “God, I hope so,” he whispers leaning closer.
Yes, that was the start of something I had no idea would turn into more. More friendship, more fun, more living, and most of all—more love. The doorbell rang through the apartment, sounding ultra-loud in the cavernous space.
Taking a deep breath, I jutted my shoulders back, clasped the door handle and pulled it open. There he stood like blazing California sunshine glinting off the Pacific Ocean. Surreal perfection.
“Wes…” was all I got out before he pressed a hand to my stomach, pushing me back away from the door a few steps. He dropped his bag on the floor in a heap, kicked the door shut, and yanked me into his arms. His mouth was on mine in the blink of an eye. His minty tongue dove inside as I gasped. Tongues touched, remembering. Hands groped, reacquainting.
In seconds I was pressed up against the door, legs wrapped around his waist, hands gripping my ass, mine twisted into his hair at the crown of his head. I held him close, plundering his mouth like a woman in a drought who hadn’t had a sip of water in days. He tasted of mint with a hint of alcohol. Mojitos. I grinned and tugged on his lips. He groaned and pressed his denim-clad length directly against my aching bundle of nerves. Crying out, I tore my lips from his. As I gulped air, his lips were all over my neck, sucking, biting, tasting.
“Can’t fucking get enough of your taste. Christ, I need inside…” His growl was muffled when he sucked at the fleshy globes of my cleavage where he’d managed to push down the tank enough to access them.
“Need you too.” I lifted up his head and took his mouth again.
Vaguely I heard my panties tearing at the sides, and felt the pinch of pain as he tugged them from my body in his haste to get me naked. Then he pressed me harder against the door. I moaned, feeling his knuckles press against my wetness as he unzipped and unbuckled.