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"So, do you volunteer as Carmen's last free fuck?" Robin prompted.
Ramiro hit the brakes.
CHAPTER11
Robin wisely shut up for the rest of the drive. Ramiro was grateful. There was no question to how he felt about Carmen, but he didn't want anyone picking up on it first, especially his brother. The relentless teasing was not his main issue. It was that it was knowledge Carmen must know first. He remembered too well what happened the last time someone else realized it.
He dropped off his little brother. As Robin unbuckled his seatbelt, he said, "I apologize for being insensitive."
"There's no need to apologize but next time, just shut up," Ramiro said. Robin nodded. He should have known better than crossing a fellow Brandt. No, Brandt made idle threats. Ramiro had actually stopped the car and ordered Robin out. Robin had laughed before he realized he was serious.
Ramiro left Robin standing at the door of his townhouse. He had a thirty-minute drive ahead of him.
He was eager for home, even if it was with Tanner and Carmen. Propriety and sense told him to make arrangements to move out soon before he overstayed his welcome, but Ramiro was ready to fight. For as long as they were unmarried, he had a chance. He only needed a window. He would have created such a window if he was his old self. Something told him to have faith.
Carmen lived in the suburbs. She hated living in the city and was willing to leave earlier for work. Ramiro, until last year, couldn't imagine living elsewhere. The home was Crowne Estate until college. He returned only once. The quiet life of a town made him uneasy, but after two weeks in the suburbs now, he saw her rationale behind it. It wasn't as soft as he thought, but it helped to distance himself from the city, even by just a few miles. Carmen also lived in a private community, restricting the paparazzi from camping.
Ramiro was cruising on a street where he would have to make the last turn to Carmen's house. Who would he see other than herself? There was no mistaking her for anyone else - he would recognize the tight, athletic shape of her butt anywhere and those legs. Robin might curse for inventing pants but not Ramiro. Not leggings, anyway. Hell, her legs were insanely long. It was dark, and her leggings were black, but he made out every bulge and ripple of muscle in her thighs, her calves.
She was jogging ahead of him, lost in the motion of her legs and feet thudding on the ground. The night was fantastic, but she wore only a faded orange t-shirt, now marked with splotches of sweat on her back. He gently tapped the horn, and she whirled around, her blue eyes wide, then squinting. He quickly lowered the lights as she shielded herself from the glare. Recognition dawned on her face, and she approached him.
Bloody hell.Her hips didn't oscillate in that seductive way women seemed to know, but her strides ate up the ground, and he couldn't look away. He lowered the passenger door's window as she bent at the waist.
"You're home," she said. Her face was red and gleamed with sweat. She looked uglier, and he didn't think that was possible, yet his chest was tight. Her eyes were blue and seemed extra shiny in the night.
The neckline of her t-shirt was high, so that was disappointing. But he smelled her sweat and, dare he say it, moonlight on her skin. It was cool and fresh, touched by her personal musk that had him taking a deep breath to absorb it in his system.
"You're out," he told her. "Can I give you a lift?"
She smirked and opened the door.
"I didn't know you run at night," Ramiro said as he resumed driving. With the window shut, her scent clouded the car. God, she smelled like moonlight and woman. Warm, vital, red-faced woman. He was grateful that his pants were dark, and so was the car, else Carmen would think him a pervert.
"I was feeling restless," was her answer.
He forced a grin. "Tanner isn't distracting enough?"
"He had to leave."
"Oh."
So it was just the two of them tonight.
Ramiro pulled up in her driveway. He followed her out of the car, admiring how the t-shirt, though definitely not her color, fit her. Her waist was not curvy, but she had more muscles than he thought possible. He watched her easily reach the top of the doorway and feel for the key. Under the sleeves of her t-shirt were dark, round patches of sweat.
He saw everything that women hid from men. He knew women sweated but not like Carmen, not like this. Damn, but she was still sweating.
His cock was beginning to hurt really bad.
"How's Robin?" Carmen asked as she unlocked the door and went in. Ramiro followed her, forcing himself to stop leering at her legs.
"Infuriating as ever, but he's blood, so I have no choice but to love him," Ramiro replied as he crashed on the couch. He kicked off his shoes with a sigh, then put his feet up on the coffee table.
Carmen took a bottle of water from the kitchen and drank. He had to look away from the motions of her throat swallowing. When she finished, he turned back to see her returning the drink to the fridge.
"Social media has picked up on your presence," she told him, leaving the kitchen so she could sit on the ottoman across from him. She toed off her running shoes and socks, then put her feet up on the table, her legs resting beside his. God, were those freckles? He thought.
"You really did call the paps on me?"
