Present
The comforter is in a pile on the floor and I’m sprawled across Cruz’s chest as we recover from another round. He was the big spoon to my little spoon as he thrust into me from behind. I can’t get enough of him today, or any day. The position was a compromise because I was afraid he would overdo it. When we left the hospital we got a long list of things to watch out for that could indicate post-concussion syndrome.
As an athlete this was not the first time Cruz has suffered a concussion, but the risks are greater each time. I was holding back before because I was afraid to lose my best friend if we didn’t work together. That fear has multiplied with that thought that I could lose him to an injury.
He insisted he was fine and didn’t need a less adventurous position, but there were no arguments from him when I backed my ass up into him and tugged his hip over mine. After dragging the head of his cock over my center a few times, he was more than happy to bury himself deep inside of me for a leisurely session that felt a whole lot more intimate than anything else we’ve done together.
Cruz’s fingers shift through my hair as we lay together in silence when, somewhere on the floor, his phone vibrates.
“There’s no part of me that wants to move to answer that right now.” He groans, his arms banding tight around me.
The phone goes still and I relax back into his chest. Tomorrow he’ll resume workouts and I’ll go back to my regular work schedule. This lazy day in bed together won’t happen again for a while. And I have every intention of enjoying it to its fullest.
The humming starts again, and I roll off to the side. “It could be important. They wouldn’t have called twice if it wasn’t.”
His gaze darts to the floor and back to me before he pushes off the bed. I should probably be ashamed of the way I openly gawk at his thick thighs and round ass as he walks to where the blankets are in a pile on the floor.
It only takes seconds of sifting through the blankets for the phone to tumble to the floor with a thud. Cruz clears his throat before he looks up at me. “It’s Rich. He wants me to call him right away.”
Tugging the only blanket left on the bed to my chest, I sit up and pat the spot next to me. Cruz has seen every inch of me up close and personal, but something about this call has me feeling the need to have that barrier.
The bed sags as Cruz joins me, sliding under the blanket. I grip his free hand, letting him know I am here. His eyes lower from the phone in his hand to our linked hands. “I’m here. Whatever happens.”
“Hey Cruz,” the gruff voice greets us.
“Hey, I take it you’ve got news for me?”
“I met with Victoria today. This is what we’ve been looking for.” There’s a long sigh on the other end of the line. “She’s got a lot of dirt on Miller to make me believe he was involved.”
“You’re sure she’s not just an angry ex?” Cruz’s eyebrows pull together. He’s been skeptical that this would lead anywhere. His reluctance is partly protective, so he doesn’t get his hopes up after all these years.
“She ended the relationship. There’s details about the case she shouldn’t have been able to share and she knew them. She seems credible to me.”
“Why did she wait so long to come forward?” Cruz asks, the air whooshing out of him. My grip on his hand tightens. He manages a weak smile in return and tucks me into his side. I run my hand up his chest to cup the side of his face, feeling his pulse hammering under my palm.
“Are you okay?” I mouth at him when I pull his face towards me. He nods, but I don’t buy it—he’s barely hanging on.
“What did she say?” Cruz’s voice comes out detached.
“Are you sure you want to do this before we go to the police and get the entire story?” His rough voice softens. He’s worked with him long enough that he knows how hard this is for him and it’s clear that Cruz is more than a client to him. It makes me wish I could hug Rich.
“I’ve waited three years. Give me something.” I can see the pleading in Cruz’s dark eyes as he looks blankly down at his lap.
“According to Victoria, he was angry the night of the accident. He wasn’t pleased with how he played. Afterward, he called her and they fought. She remembered because he was really paranoid and complaining about how well Jarrett had pitched. He claimed Jarrett was trying to make him look bad.”
“Did she know if they were together that night?” Cruz asks, blinking rapidly. Seeing him like this is enough to break me, but I can’t let that happen. He needs me to be strong for him, so I steel myself for whatever is about to come.
“She couldn’t confirm. She knew Miller went out but not where. Over the course of their relationship, she’s put some pieces together from drunk ramblings and his state when he came home from Miami.”
“So what happens now? Does she have anything that the police will actually be able to use because this sounds like a lot of speculation?”
“Maybe. She knew the details about where and how he was found on the beach, down to the fact that he was found near a damaged pier.”
Cruz’s head snaps up, looking at me with pained eyes. “The exact location was never released to the media.”
“There’s more, but Cruz, we need to see this through and pursue the proper channels.” Rich clears his throat on the other end of the phone. “Are you alone?”
“No. My girlfriend is here with me.” A pang of sadness hits me that the first time he’s calling me that is under such shitty circumstances.
