Page 15 of Just for the Holidays
“You feel that, sweetheart?” he asked as he nipped on one of her earlobes. “You feel how hard I am for you?” He thrust against her, and she rocked to meet him. He was careening into a series of extremely bad decisions, he knew that, and still his hands roamed down to the soft skin of her belly.
“Are you ready for me?” he asked as his hand snaked down to her core.
“So ready,” she gasped when his fingers grazed against the curls covering her folds.
“You’re aching for this, aren’t you? When was the last time someone touched you like this?” He had no idea why he was going there. If he was smart he’d leave that door firmly shut, but something in him needed to hear that no one made her feel like he did.
“Six years to be exact,” she said in a breathy whisper as she reached for his hard cock. Her grip was like a vise and he could not think. He plunged into her hand viciously, even as he tried to process what he’d just said.
“Mmm,” he grunted, dizzy from pleasure. “Six years?” he asked, fuzzy thoughts starting to become clearer. Six years; she hadn’t been with anyone in six years? He’d broken her heart so badly that she hadn’t been with anyone else?
And now he was doing this with her when he knew there was no possible future for them.
Fuck. He needed to stop this.Now.
“What?” she asked breathlessly as he unwound her legs from around his waist, jumping back like her skin was scalding him. She looked drunk from his kisses, so utterly edible. But he knew what the right thing to do was. He wouldn’t go any further without being certain she would not regret this later. And today had been too much of a roller coaster for sex to be anything other than a terrible idea. But it seemed Perla was going to be pissed at him anyway.
“You’re going to regret this later,” he told her, rubbing his mouth with the back of a shaky hand.
She flinched like he’d slapped her. Her expression went from dreamy and warm, to shuttered and embarrassed. “You don’t have the slightest clue about my regrets, Gael,” she said stonily, “but you’re right about one thing. This is a mistake.” She was already pushing him back so she could get away.
“It’s not a mistake. I just don’t want to complicate things more than they already are.”Because I’m almost certain that I still have feelings for you, and doing this will probably end with you hating me even more than before.
“It’s not that I don’t want you, Perla—”
“Oh, my God,” she screamed, her face a mask of horrified embarrassment. “Please, Gael, spare me the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ rerun from college.” Perla was not even looking at him. Her hands crossed over her chest and her face miserable. She seemed seconds from starting to cry. “I haven’t forgotten what you said.” She held up a hand at him, her expression forbidding. “No need to tell me again. Let’s just pretend none of this happened and try to get through tonight and tomorrow,” she said miserably and stormed off to the bedroom. He could hear her moving around the room quietly as he stood there like a statue looking at the bare little tree with its twinkling lights. She never even got to put on the ornaments.
He wassuchan asshole. He knew that adding a fake relationship with Perla to the already shitty mix of feelings that usually cropped up for him around the holidays was a terrible idea, and less than twelve hours in, he already had her on the verge of tears. His father had been right; the Montez men really could not stop themselves from hurting the women they cared about.
All those years ago, on another Christmas Eve when his life had fallen apart, his father had warned him of that fact. After disappearing for over a week, Gabriel Montez had shown up at dinnertime on Nochebuena smelling like booze and another woman’s perfume. His mother, finally done with years of putting up with her husband’s philandering, had kicked him out.
Gael wasn’t sure what it was about that particular time, after so many others, that seemed to take. But she’d stood firm in her best red dress with Gabi crying against her legs and demanded he leave them alone. Gael remembered that he expected his dad to do his usual round of begging. To fling excuses and endearments at his mother until she relented. To his surprise, without a word, his father had gone to the bedroom he’d shared with his wife for over fifteen years, packed a suitcase and after kissing him and his sister goodbye, walked out of their house for the last time.
Gabi and Veronica watched the man go with tears streaming down their faces, but Gael ran after him. Angry and confused, he demanded that his father explain why he was abandoning his family. Why he kept hurting his mother. Why he didn’t love them. His father had lifted a shoulder and said, “The Montez men are no good to their women, mijo. No matter what we do, we end up destroying the women we love.” He shook his head sadly, like he could not understand it himself. “It’s a curse.” With that, he bent down to kiss ten-year-old Gael on the forehead, got in his car and drove away.
Over the years Gael told himself a lot of things regarding what his father had said that night. That his dad had been weak and selfish, and trying to make excuses for his bad behavior. That he’d chosen to fail his family, that he cheated because he wanted to. That he would never be that kind of man. He’d spent eighteen years telling himself that he’d be different from his father, and here he was hurting this woman, again. And what was any of this for? To pretend for a few days and then leave them both done in again?
Manolo had been right about one thing; with Perla and him it had to be all or nothing. He could not pretend with her; he couldn’t only have her halfway. And that was why staying away from her had been the right thing, the safe thing. No matter how much he wanted her, how deep his need ran for her, he wouldhurt her.
It didn’t matter what he wanted or, in this case, who. He was a Montez and Montez men ended up alone.
Perla: SOS...SOS!
Perla was well aware that her texting was a bit on the dramatic side today, but desperate times, and all that. She’d kissed Gaelagain. She almost did more than that, and then he’d pushed her away. God, how many times would she set herself up to be humiliated like that?
She’d just hide in the bedroom and pretend she was asleep when he came in to bed. Or maybe he’d sleep on the couch. She wished the idea made her feel better, but the thought of him sleeping in discomfort because he was trying to avoid her only sank her mood further.
He must think she was desperate. And the worst part was that she would’ve let him have her right there. She’d been aching for it. It was like she was a completely different person when she was with Gael. Reckless and impulsive, ruled by her desires.
She needed someone to talk her off this cliff, which seemed to be crumbling under her feet almost by the minute. Perla fired another message off to Marquito, Rodrigo’s brother—and her closest friend. He was supposed to fly to the DR for Christmas, too, but had pulled out at the last minute, saying he had too much work with the awards season starting in January. Marquito was a stylist to some of Hollywood’s A+ list, so he was spending the holidays in LA on his own. And Perla had been so caught up in drama today that she hadn’t even checked up on him.
Marcos: Girl, you’re not still trying to get on a plane, are you? I thought you were grounded until the storm passes.
The details of her breakup with Gael Montez weren’t exactly public knowledge. She wasn’t sure how he’d done it, but he’d managed to keep any mention of how their relationship ended out of the news. But she and Marquito went way back. Since his relationship with her asshole brother, Onyx, had crashed and burned years ago. And in the past year since their siblings rekindled their own romance they’d grown closer than ever. Which meant he knew all the sordid details about her and the Hollywood heartthrob.
Perla: No, I’m still in New York. No one’s flying out of here for a while. I’m snowed in at Gael Montez’s house in the Hamptons.
The three dots indicating that Marquito was typing up a message appeared immediately.
