His rhythm increased as he slid in and out of my slick wetness, sending me directly to the edge. I tried my best to hold on, not wanting to tumble over just yet. I wanted to enjoy the feel of him and the way he filled me completely. To see the raw need on his face and know it was me he craved. As hard as I tried, I couldn't stop myself from coming. I put my hands on either side of his hips, encouraging him to thrust deeply. An intense orgasm took over my body, and I screamed my release so loud I was sure the rest of the people in the apartment could hear. Maybe I even wanted them to. Somewhere in my haze of pleasure, I heard Brando's low, muffled groans. I watched his lips part, his eyes glaze over in ecstasy, and just like that my inner muscles pulsed hard around him as I came a second time.
When I opened my eyes, Brando was staring down at me. His face relaxed, his eyes were soft and sleepy.
I gave him a slow, lazy smile as he placed a tender kiss on my mouth before sliding out of me. He got up to discard the condom while I sat back against the headboard, pushing my hair away from my face. I was searching the floor for my T-shirt when Brando returned to the bed.
"Leave it." He sat down, lifted my wrist, and darkened his name with a pen. After he was done, he positioned us so we were lying with my head on his chest, then covered us with a blanket.
We lay there in silence for a while. The only sound was the low hum of music and occasional hoots of laughter from the party outside. I was just drifting off to sleep when Brando spoke.
"Let me decide what I can handle. Okay?" I lifted my head so I could see his face. The moment had been so perfect I didn't want to ruin it. He made it hard to deny him anything. Except, I couldn't get him involved. It was too risky. Instead, I did something I loathed. I lied.
"Okay," I whispered. Brando's smile cracked my heart right down the middle, leaving an ugly jagged scar behind. I couldn't bear looking into those eyes knowing what a piece of shit I was, so I kissed him. His lids fluttered closed as his arms tightened around me. I wanted my touch to convey the feelings I could never say in words. It was impossible to be his when my future was controlled by another man.
The next morning I'd changed back into my clothes and followed Brando from his room. The apartment had crap scattered everywhere. Beer cans and plastic cups sat on every surface. Several pizza boxes were sitting on the kitchen counter, and the remains of marijuana smoke still wafted through the house. We were almost to the front door when a voice called from the living room.
"Yo," a man rasped, followed by a series of coughs. "Yo," he repeated and shuffled from the dimly lit room into the foyer. "I didn't know you were here...oh." The man stopped speaking when he saw me. He was tall and thin, almost gaunt. His dirty blond hair was long and stopped just above his shoulders. His face had the haggard look of a man who drank too much and ate too little. He was also the loud, mouth guy at Harley's party.
"Todd." Brando was the first to speak. "This is—"
"Carina Risto," Todd interrupted. "Yeah, I know who she is." He didn't offer how he knew that information.
"You're Showtime," I added, suddenly able to place his face. What I knew about the racing world could fit in a thimble. My brother, Jamie, told me once that after a racer had proven their skills and made the top ten list, they were worthy of a name. They didn't choose them, their racing peers did. It was an honor and a show of respect. Todd had been given a name, which meant he was good.
"That's me," he answered, his bloodshot eyes narrowing as he studied me a little longer. "Where are you headed?" he asked, his attention going back to Brando.
"I'm going to take her home and then go by the shop."
"Cool, man," Todd replied with a yawn.
"You and I are going to talk about that party last night."
"Dude"—Todd started back to the living room—"stop being so paranoid," he called over his shoulder before he flopped back down on the couch.
****
Brando drove me to my place, a little studio apartment above the restaurant. He put the car in park, and I pulled open the handle to get out.
"Carina." He reached over and gently grabbed my hand. He didn't even have to say anything more. The look in his eyes told me he needed answers.
"Brando, please. Let me sort my shit out first." I tugged my hand back, and he released me.
"When can I see you again?" His voice was calm, but his jaw ticked as if he were trying to control his frustration. I hated that I was doing that to him. The island was small. I knew it would be impossible to avoid each other. The thought of never seeing him again hurt more
than I was prepared to admit.
"You know where to find me," I replied, then got out of the car. "Thanks for coming to my rescue last night."
"You kind of rescued me, too." Brando smiled briefly, though his eyes remained a little sad. I got out and gave a floppy wave as I shut the door.
I watched him drive off, wondering what he'd meant when he said I'd rescued him, too.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Brando
Women. The ultimate enigma. The suckers of souls. The killers of confidence.
I didn't know how long I'd been driving. I just had to clear my head, or maybe I needed to locate my balls. I'd never allowed myself to be tied into knots over a girl before.