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“Finished?”
She looks down, gives me a half-grin, and runs her fingernails up along one thigh before cupping my dick, which is hard again.
I grip this wrist too, switch them into one hand. I turn off the water. “No.”
Her forehead furrows. “Why not?”
I release her, then step out and grab a dry towel. I toss it to her. She catches it but looks affronted. I need to put distance between us. This is too fucking hard with her. I walk out of the bathroom and into my closet. She follows me, her towel wrapped around herself, and watches me pull on clothes.
“You know, you give a woman whiplash, Judge.”
I exhale, slip my arms into my shirt, and turn to her. “This can’t happen again. It shouldn’t have happened this time.”
“Well, it did. And who cares? We’re adults. If we want to fuck, why can’t we just fuck?”
“Mercedes.” It comes out a groan. “You’re a De La Rosa.”
“And you’re a fucking Montgomery. We’re well matched.”
That stops me. Takes me by surprise. I step toward her, and in a rare moment, she looks uncertain. “I won’t marry, Mercedes. You know that, don’t you?”
Blood rushes to her face, and she falters. “I’m not asking you to marry me. Just fuck me.”
“No.” I buckle my belt.
“Why won’t you marry anyway?” she asks, following me when I leave the closet.
“That’s personal.”
“I just swallowed your come. I think we can get personal.”
“Watch your mouth, all right? I don’t think Santiago would appreciate you talking like that.”
“I don’t think Santiago would appreciate your dick down my throat.”
“That’s enough, sweetheart.”
“That’s what your brother called me.”
“Fuck my brother.”
“Besides, I thought I was your little monster.”
I take her arms and lead her out of my room into the hallway, where the sun is almost too bright after the dark of my bedroom. As if out here, we’re exposed. Our dirty little secret is out in the open.
There’s movement at the end of the hall, and I spy Miriam disappearing into one of the empty guest rooms. I don’t bother with her, though. Now isn’t the time although given what I’ve learned, she’ll need to be dealt with. Instead, I march Mercedes into her bedroom.
“Get dressed. Then go downstairs and have breakfast. And after that, return to this room and read or do yoga or whatever it is you do but do not leave this room until I come for you.”
“Whatever it is I do? You’re such a fucking jerk, you know that?”
“Do you hear me?”
“So I’m sent to my room again like an errant child? Why? What did I do?”
“Do I need to ask Miriam to lock the door after breakfast?”
She exhales. “Just go do whatever it is you do if you’re so desperate to be away from me. Maybe Theron will appreciate my company—”
