Cockloft Page 7

  I shake my head, still having a hard time comprehending that. “How have you lived in this city your whole life and never eaten Mexican food?”

  She shrugs. “We didn’t eat out much as a family and if we did it was at the country club.”

  Figures. She probably grew up eating meals that cost more than my whole month’s salary.

  “What do you recommend?” she asks.

  “Flautas,” my aunt answers, coming up to our table. She places our drinks down in front of us along with a basket of chips and salsa. “You can never go wrong with flautas.”

  “All right then, I’ll have that,” CeCe says, closing the menu.

  My aunt takes both booklets, slipping them under her arm. “And I already know mi mijo will have his favorite. Tostadas de tinga.” She gives my cheek a hard love tap before walking off.

  CeCe leans over the table and gives me a slap on the other cheek. “Mi mijo.” She doesn’t even pronounce the words right but laughs her ass off anyway.

  I grunt, not the least bit amused.

  Her sexy lips close around her straw while she takes a sip of her drink. My cock hardens behind my zipper as I imagine those lips wrapped around my—

  “Do you have a big family?” she asks.

  Clearing my throat, I sit up in my chair, needing to alleviate the pressure within my jeans. “Four brothers, nine aunts and uncles, and don’t even ask how many cousins.”

  “Four brothers?” she squeaks.

  I nod.

  “No sisters?”

  “None.”

  Thank god. I had to grow up around hormonal female cousins, that was enough for me.

  “Your poor mother, especially if they are anything like you,” she throws out the jab with a teasing tone.

  “I’m her favorite.”

  She rolls her eyes, a laugh escaping her. “How old are your brothers?”

  “Twenty-four, twenty-one, eighteen, and sixteen.”

  “You’re the oldest?”

  “And the wisest.”

  It earns me one of her pretty smiles. “What does your mother do?”

  “Cleans houses and helps out here from time to time. She’s also in the middle of getting her degree to be a teacher.”

  “Wow,” she says, impressed. “She sounds like the definition of supermom.”

  “She is.”

  I respect no one more than my mother, and I’m glad that after all she sacrificed for us that I am able to put her through school so she can do what she has always wanted to do.

  “What about your father?”

  My muscles tense, hate boiling in my blood.

  She winces, her expression softening. “Sore subject?”

  “More like off limits,” I say, managing to keep the bite out of my tone.

  “Got it.”

  “What about you?” I ask. “Any siblings?”

  “Nope. Only child.”

  The information doesn’t surprise me one bit.

  “Most of the time it was great. I got my parents’ love and affection all to myself, especially my father’s,” she tells me, a wistful smile claiming her lips. “But I grew up with my best friend, Emily, who’s an only child too and we’ve always been more like sisters. So I wasn’t completely alone.”

  “And what about your boutique?”

  “What about it?”

  “How long have you owned it?”

  “Almost three years, and it’s doing better than I ever imagined,” she says, beaming with pride.

  She should be proud. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from this restaurant, it’s that owning your own business isn’t easy. To be so young and successful is admirable but it doesn’t surprise me, not when it comes to her. You can tell she’s driven in every aspect of her life.

  “I’m actually in the middle of trying to expand. I have a meeting with the bank early tomorrow morning for a loan to start a men’s line. If you’re nice, maybe I’ll let you model for me.”

  “No fucking thank you.”

  My less than enthused response has her cracking into laughter, the beautiful melody making me feel things, foreign things.

  “What about the name?” I ask. “Why Kensington Palace?”

  Her expression softens, a pain darkening her light irises. “My father always called me princess and said our home was my palace.” She shrugs but I don’t miss the hard swallow she takes. “It’s my way of having a piece of him in the store. He died before he was able to see it.”

  The memory of us in front of the flower shop surfaces as I recall the way she practically flinched when I called her a princess. Now I feel like the biggest dick ever.

  “How did he die?”

  I regret asking the question when the pain in her eyes deepens.

  “How about both fathers are off limits tonight?” she says.

  I lift my beer, tilting the bottle toward her. “Fair enough, Bella.”

  Her eyes narrow in annoyance. “Why do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Call me by the wrong name? Are you wanting a chip to fly at your face?”

  Smirking, I rub my jaw and decide to take pity on her lack of knowledge. “When I call you Bella it’s another way of calling you beautiful, in Spanish.”

  “Oh.” She clears her throat and peers back at me sheepishly. “In case you haven’t noticed, I flunked Spanish.”

  I chuckle and refrain from saying that I more than noticed.

  “Wait a second,” she speaks again, her eyes narrowing. “You called me Bella that day outside of the flower shop when we were fighting.”

  “So?”

  “So that means you thought I was beautiful even then.”

  I grunt. “I thought you were beautiful that first night when I found your half naked ass pointed up in the air while you were saving that damn purse. Ridiculous but beautiful.”

  An emotion passes over her face, one that has her smile vanishing. “All right, Fireboy. It’s time for the moment of truth.”

  I cock a brow.

  “That damn purse was the last gift my father gave me,” she says. “It’s engraved with his love, and I wasn’t going to leave it behind.”

  Guilt twists my stomach into a vicious knot as I realize how wrong I’ve been about her.

  Holding her gaze, I rest back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest. “Okay. I admit it. I’m an asshole. I misjudged you and the situation.”

  She lifts her chin. “Yes, you did.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  “But…”

  Her back straightens. “What do you mean, ‘but?’ You can’t end an apology with a but.”

  My elbows rest on the table as I lean in closer. “I get why you didn’t want to leave that purse behind. But that item means nothing if you’re dead.”

  The thought of what could have happened to her if the fire were more serious makes me physically sick. I’ve seen what a charred body looks like and it’s something I hope to never see again, especially hers.

  “Promise me, you won’t ever do that again, CeCe. There is nothing more important than your life, and I have a feeling your father would say the same thing to you if he were here.”

  “He would,” she admits on a whisper.

  “Does that mean I have your word?”

  “Do I still have your apology for being a judgmental ass?”

  I smirk. “Of course.”

  “Good, because you were. But since you gave me seven orgasms the other night, you’re forgiven.”

  I have every intention of breaking that damn record. I’d love nothing more than to eat her pussy all night just to see her fall apart repeatedly.

  “Tell me, Blondie. How the hell are you still single?”

  It’s something I’ve been wondering about a lot. She’s beautiful, successful, and has a mouth that could make any man hard.

  “Why are you still single?” she asks, insulted by the question.

  “Beca
use I wasn’t looking to settle down.”

  “And now?” she asks, quirking a brow.

  “I’m not opposed to the idea if I met the right woman.”

  “Same,” she says.

  I shake my head. “That’s my excuse, what’s yours?”

  Long seconds pass before she gives in and answers. “Because most of the time I don’t put myself out there. The boutique keeps me busy and whenever I have been set up I’ve been stuck listening to guys talk about themselves while staring at my boobs all night.” She shrugs but it’s obviously a sore subject. “Not quite the fairytale I’m looking for.”

  “You do have great boobs though,” I say, hoping to lighten the mood.

  “Keep your eyes on my face, Fireboy, and tonight will go just fine.”

  “Trust me, that’s not hard to do with a face like yours.”

  A shy smile steals her lips. “That was smooth.”

  “I’m half Puerto Rican and half Mexican, baby. We’re smooth motherfuckers.”

  Her beautiful laughter fills the air but it fades quickly. “I’m not surprised to hear that. After our night together, I figured you were.”

  A frown pulls at my face. “What does that mean?”

  She shrugs. “I’m just saying by our night together I assume it’s a regular occurrence for you.”

  I stare back at her, not liking where this is going. “Are you really wanting to know how many girls I’ve been with, CeCe?” The thought makes me cringe. Not because I can’t keep track but that isn’t a topic of conversation I care to have with her, especially while on a date.

  Sighing, she shakes her head, almost seeming frustrated with herself. “No. I don’t. I’m sorry; I’m not saying this right. This is about me. I feel the need to clarify something.”

  “By all means. Just say it.”

  Her attention remains on her drink as she stirs it with her straw. “I just wanted you to know that, regardless of my actions the other night, I don’t sleep around.”

  “I never thought for a second that you did.”

  “Good. I just wanted to be clear about that.” She continues to avoid eye contact as she takes another sip of her drink.

  “CeCe, look at me.”

  Her lashes sweep up, eyes meeting mine, and the insecurity there is not something I’m used to seeing when it comes to her.

  “I asked you out tonight because I want to have dinner with you. Not for any other reason.” I hold her gaze, willing her to see the truth. “I want your company, and I want to get to know you. Got it?”

  “Got it,” she says, giving a hard nod. “But for the record, we can totally fuck after this. Just throwing that out there.”

  My chuckle trails into a pained groan.

  This woman is going to be the death of me.

  Leaning in, I keep my voice low. “As much as I’d love to bury myself inside of you again, Bella, after we leave here I’m going to drive you home, kiss that tempting mouth of yours goodnight, then ask you out on another date. That’s it.”

  I’d be lying if I hadn’t hoped for our night to end with us in bed but I refuse to now. As much as I love touching her, I also respect the hell out of her, and I will make sure she knows it before I ever touch her again.

  “You’re starting to make me not hate you so much,” she says, her expression soft.

  “Good, because as much as I love the way we hate each other, I’m starting to like you.”

  The smile I’m rewarded with is worth the pain my cock will feel tonight when I leave her.

  The moment is interrupted when my aunt brings our meals. We waste no time digging in, and satisfaction fills me over the way CeCe moans with every bite she takes, but it also wreaks havoc on my good intentions.

  Our conversation continues over dinner. She talks a bit about her mom and all the traveling she does then tells me more about the aspirations she has for the men’s line while I talk about my job and how much I love firefighting. It’s easy—comfortable even—and before we know it, three hours pass and there are only a few customers remaining. That’s when we decide to call it a night, even though the last thing I want to do is say good-bye to her.

  Before leaving, we bid my aunt and uncle good-bye then step outside into the humid night.

  “Okay, I’ll admit it, that was some of the best food I’ve ever had. My margaritas were a—maz—ing,” she sings.

  A chuckle escapes me as I watch her wobble in the fuck-me heels she wears.

  She tosses me a look over her shoulder, her eyes slightly glazed from the drinks she had. “Something funny, Fireboy?”

  The sassy remark puts me in motion. Curling an arm around her waist, I pull her in for a kiss, needing to touch her…

  Taste her.

  Her hands move to the edge of my shirt, slipping beneath the material. The skin-on-skin contact rocks me to the fucking core.

  “You sure you don’t want to rethink this no sex thing?” she murmurs against my mouth.

  “You’re fucking with my good intentions, Blondie.”

  “Good, because I like it when you’re bad.”

  Groaning, I reluctantly pull my mouth away, my gaze transfixed on her swollen, parted lips. My eyes close, forehead resting against hers while I try to find my control. Once I open them, her hazel irises punch me in the chest.

  “I want you more than you’ll ever know, but I’m going to keep my word and end it here.”

  “Fine, be a gentleman,” she grumbles.

  My hands move to the side of her face, holding her in place. “Make no mistake, CeCe. I have every intention of losing myself in your warm body again… Just not tonight.”

  “I guess that means I’ll be seeing you?” She voices it as a statement but it comes out more like a question.

  “Yeah, Bella. We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other,” I promise.

  “Cool, I’ll have a chat with Pep and see about fitting you into our busy schedule,” she says, with a teasing smile.

  Shaking my head, I deliver a slap on her bottom. “Get in the truck, smart ass, so I can kiss you again at your door.”

  She complies to my demand, her giggle floating through the air as I open the door for her.

  On the drive back to her apartment I have a hard time keeping my eyes off her, especially her long toned legs that are crossed over in my direction. The memory of what they felt like wrapped around my hips is absolute torture.

  Once we arrive at her complex, I walk her up to her door just like I promised and do my best to keep myself in check. Something she challenges by the sultry look she shoots me. “Did you change your mind by chance and want to come in?”

  Taking a step forward, I press her against the door. “No, but I think I might fuck this mouth instead.”

  Dipping my head, I take her lips possessively, making them mine, laying a claim I don’t intend to let go of any time soon. She clamors to get closer, our tongues tangling, fighting for dominance, but in the end, I win.

  My stiff cock presses into her stomach, showing her just how hard it will be to walk away from her tonight. Miraculously, I summon enough control to pull away, but not before dropping a final kiss to her cheek.

  “Night, Bella.”

  By the time I make it on the elevator, I see she’s still standing at her door, her mouth parted, needy breaths making her chest rise and fall. Just before the door closes, I flash her a smirk, the promise of more to come very soon.

  CHAPTER NINE

  CeCe

  There’s a new beat in my heart and dance in my step as I arrive at the bank the following morning. The date that I was so nervous about with Gabe turned out to be more than I could have ever hoped for, and the sweet bastard didn’t even give me an orgasm.

  Instead, he gave me a kiss that gave kisses new meaning, one that skipped its way through my whole body and made my heart sing. I probably could have had an orgasm just from that one kiss had he not turned and walked away with a sexy-as-sin smirk on his lips.

 
; He told me he liked me and wanted to see me again. He showed me respect and that changed everything. Changed the dynamic of the bizarre relationship we’ve found ourselves in. He’s no longer the arrogant fireman who made me want to punch him in the dick.

  He’s become so much more.

  Hearing him talk about his family and job last night showed me another side of him, one I desperately want to know more about.

  We didn’t set an exact date to see one another again but he did take my number this time and even sent me a text as I was crawling into bed. The way my heart fluttered in my chest when I received that goodnight message is a little scary. I’ve decided to take things one day at a time. I need to take it slow because I have a feeling that man could ruin my heart the way he ruined my body in one damn night.

  A blast of cool air hits me as I enter the bank. Clutching the portfolio in my hands, I head up to the reception desk with a smile.

  It’s time to finish making my dreams come true.

  “Good morning,” the receptionist greets me.

  “Hi, I have a meeting scheduled with Graham Davis.”

  Her eyes scan over her computer screen. “CeCe Kensington?”

  “That’s me.”

  She returns my smile. “Mr. Davis is just finishing with a phone call. He should be done shortly. Would you like some coffee or tea while you wait?”

  I shake my head. “I’m fine but thank you.”

  I walk over to the waiting area, hitching one of my favorite Louis Vuittons higher on my shoulder. My good luck charm. This handbag has been in my life for a long time. We’ve had some good times together. I got it from Emily for my seventeenth birthday. The hot pink Épi leather was handcrafted in Paris. It’s the kind of bag that will never go out of style. It even has a platinum four-leaf clover charm that hangs from the hook of the strap. It’s the perfect accent to my black floral Kate Spade sundress.

  “Ms. Kensington?”

  Turning around, I find the receptionist standing from her chair.

  “Mr. Davis can see you now.”

  Here goes nothing.

  Clutching my portfolio tighter, I follow her down to his office. She stands to the side of the open doorway and gestures for me to enter.

  “Thank you.”

  Walking in, I find Graham Davis, one of my father’s biggest confidants, a family friend who has been in my life since I was a little girl. One I haven’t seen since the funeral.