Let Me Love You: Steamy Older Man Younger Woman Romance Read online

  Table of Contents

  Bianca’s Epilogue

  Bianca

  Miguel

  About the Author

  Let Me Love You

  Older Man Younger Woman Romance

  Mia Madison

  Contents

  1. Bianca

  2. Miguel

  3. Bianca

  4. Miguel

  5. Bianca

  6. Miguel

  7. Bianca

  8. Miguel

  9. Bianca

  10. Miguel

  11. Bianca

  12. Miguel

  13. Bianca’s Epilogue

  About the Author

  Bianca

  “That’s it for today, guys.”

  I stood up from my yoga mat and smiled as the diverse members of my class started collecting their things. “For the record, I think you’re all making really great progress.”

  It was always a great feeling to be able to see weeks of hard work began to pay off firsthand. My group was small but determined, coming faithfully week after week. Seeing their progress was just as rewarding for me as it was for them.

  “Are you going to be here next week, Bianca?” Rona, the shy housewife who hadn’t even been with me for a month, bit her lip as she waited for my answer.

  She had no reason to worry, though. I wasn’t going anywhere. I needed the class as much as they needed me. Yoga was my therapy. My escape. My life. I truly lived and breathed the practice.

  “Same time, same place,” I replied, giving a little wave to some of the other members who were already beginning to file out the door. “I wouldn’t miss this class for anything.”

  It was the truth, too. Even if the stars aligned and I was somehow able to open my own yoga and dance studio — my lifelong dream — there wasn’t any doubt in my mind that I’d convert every single one of my yoga students who devotedly attended my class every week. They were like family, and family had to stick together.

  Rona looked around uncertainly, seeming to hesitate for a few moments while the room emptied. Finally, in a hushed tone, she continued. “I really wanted to thank you. I’ve been meaning to ever since my first week here, but I know you’re busy, and I don’t like to interrupt…”

  “Girl, I’m never too busy for you guys.” I smiled, hoping to put her at ease. Whatever was on her mind apparently had her all worked up, and I quirked an eyebrow as she fidgeted and looked toward the door again. Unable to wait, I asked, “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes, sorry.” She clasped her hands behind her back as if that disguised the fact that she was jumpy as hell. She smiled sweetly, nervously, and drew another breath. “I just… you don’t know how much this class means to me. My husband and I are new to Miami — we moved here when his job transferred him — and it can just be so intimidating to try and start over somewhere new, you know?”

  I nodded. As a second-generation Cuban in Miami, I didn’t know exactly what it was like to pack up and start a new life, but I could definitely relate to the feeling of trying to get a handle on life and the anxiety that came with meeting new people and doing new things.

  Plus, it hadn’t even been a year since I was the one picking up the pieces and getting my life back on track.

  “I do know how intimidating it can all be,” I confided. “I went through a rough patch last year, and it was humbling for me to realize who my real friends were at the time, and how few of them I actually had. It’s part of why I teach these classes now. It was an escape for me back then, but now it’s my fuel. It keeps me going even when everything else in my life gets a little crazy.”

  “Yes! That’s exactly it. You put it so much better than I could, but that’s how I feel about coming here. It’s new and scary in its own way, but also safe and friendly, and when I walk out the door, I feel stronger and more confident than I did when I walked in. And it’s like that for me after every single class.”

  My heart swelled with joy. If only my mother could hear Rona’s words. She’d been so disappointed when I’d left Desmond. There was a part of me that wondered at the time if she’d have been a little less upset if I hadn’t also been walking away from his NBA paycheck and lifestyle.

  I was willing to give up a lot to be with that man — my own dreams and plans for the future had been the first things to go — but when it became clear that he was never going to give up his partying and running around, and when he’d flaunted one too many side chicks in the tabloids, he simply had to go. I could give up a lot, but never my dignity or my self-respect.

  No man was worth that, no matter how thick his wallet — or anything else on him — happened to be.

  “Oh Rona! I’m really glad to hear it.” I squealed. “I think you’re doing a great job, and I can see you becoming more confident as the weeks pass by. Pretty soon, you’ll be doing burlesque shows with me at the club.”

  I winked and she laughed. There was no way in hell I could picture timid little Rona doing burlesque, but who was I to say what the future held for her? She might just surprise everyone. Still, hearing her testimonial had made my day, and further solidified my sense of purpose.

  Hearing her open up about the change yoga’s had on her was tremendous. It affirmed my sense of devotion to teaching, because it would be her words that would come in handy during moments of doubt, those occasional times where I wondered if I was wasting my time, or if I was really making a difference in someone’s life besides my own, even if it was just in some tiny way. It would have been easy enough to do yoga by myself, in the comfort of my apartment, after all, and I wouldn’t have had to deal with the owner of my current studio, or the pathetic cut of the fees he gave me from my students — each of whom paid damn good money to be there.

  I was making a difference, though. Rona confirmed that, and just knowing that simple fact meant the world to me.

  “Um, I’m not so sure about that,” Rona said, her face flushing as she gathered up her yoga mat and bag. “But I’ll actually be out there tonight — at the, um, cabaret place— with some new, um, acquaintances. It’ll be the first time I’ve really gone anywhere fun since we’ve been here.”

  “Oh, that’ll be great,” I said, meaning it. “Make sure you stop in backstage and say hello. And thank you, Rona. That was just what I needed to hear today, seriously.”

  My smile didn’t fade until after she had walked out the door, and I was finally alone to gather my belongings and my thoughts. That conversation had just confirmed that I was on the right track in my life. I would have to remember it the next time my mom got on my case about finding a different job — a “real” job, as she liked to say. I could almost hear her voice as I thought about it.

  Bianca, you’re a beautiful girl. You’re smart. You’re funny. If you’re not going to put that fancy degree to use, at least find someone to settle down with. Neither of us is getting any younger, and I want grandchildren.

  If only it was as simple as that. But no matter how many times I tried to tell her that I was happy doing something I loved, she could never understand why I’d choose to dance and do yoga when I could be working in an office somewhere.

  As if I could ever be truly happy chained to a desk. I wasn’t destined to be anyone’s executive assistant. I wanted more from life, and I didn’t need a man to give it to me. Although I certainly wasn’t opposed to a little fun on the side as I followed my dreams and my heart, I was more than capable of being alone, too. Especially after the fiasco with Desmond.

  It was nice to go home and not have photographers waiting for me in the bushes outside my building, or find someone going throu
gh my garbage, hoping for a lead on a story to splash across the front pages of the local papers.

  I rolled up my mat and checked my phone. No calls. No texts. That was okay, though. It just meant no new headaches, right?

  My head was clear and my resolve was high when I walked outside and locked the door to the small studio behind me.

  “I am making a difference,” I reminded myself out loud, under my breath. “I can do this.”

  Feeling confident and collected, I turned around and started walking to my car. When I saw who was coming toward me though, I wanted to turn right back around and lock myself back inside the sanctuary of those four walls.

  “Hey, mami.” He raised his hand, flashing a smile that was too wide and too bright. “I hoped I’d see you today.”

  I barely stifled a groan as I continued to my car. If he was going to insist on talking to me — again — I wasn’t going to make it easy for him. Not after it became perfectly clear to me that he couldn’t take a hint.

  “Come on, you’re not even gonna say hi?” He was still smiling as he fell into step next to me.

  “Hi.” I was deliberately flat to indicate my disinterest.

  “Oh, it’s gonna be like that? Come on, mamita. I just wanna talk to you for a minute.”

  Only when I was standing at my car door did I turn to face him. “I’m sort of in a hurry, Luis. What’s up?”

  He leaned back against the truck next to me and gave me another slow smile, as if I hadn’t just said I was in a hurry. “When are you gonna let me take you out someplace nice?”

  “Oh my God,” I didn’t even bother hiding the groan that time. Or the eye roll. “I’ve gotta go. Have a good afternoon.”

  “Come on, Bianca,” he said, reaching for my arm.

  I flinched at the sound of my name on his lips. Why had I ever told him my name? He looked offended as I jerked away from him and opened my car door to put some space between us.

  “Come on, ma,” he repeated. “You know I’m not a bad guy. I’d treat you good. Better than that baller you used to talk to.”

  That was all I needed to hear. “See you later, Luis.”

  I slid into the driver’s seat and turned on the ignition, hoping to drown out his questions with the radio. Not fast enough, though. He leaned in, his leering face taking up most of my field of vision. The level of spearmint on his breath was almost disrespectful.

  “Why won’t you just give me a chance? What have I ever done to you? I just try to be nice.”

  “You’re nice enough,” I said, shrugging. “But I’m never gonna go on a date with you.”

  “Never?” His eyebrows shot up, as if it was the first time he’d heard me say it.

  “Nev-er.” I said it in Spanish for enhanced effect. “Nunca.”

  Whatever else he might have said was finally silenced by the sounds of Nicki Minaj on the radio as I turned it up. Better late than never, although I’d already heard more than I had cared to.

  He waved as I pulled out of the parking lot, and I could only shake my head. I’d give him points for being persistent, but damn. He seriously didn’t know when to quit. And even though I had entertained the thought of dating him once — briefly, when he’d first introduced himself — there was something about him even then that had made me pause.

  Maybe it was because Luis looked, acted, and sounded so much like Desmond that it was scary. At the time it had seemed like he might be the non-famous, non-cheating version of the man I’d just left. But it didn’t take long for me to see him pushing up on every cute girl that crossed his path with the same lines. It was to the point some women would walk across the street or grab a male buddy when they saw him.

  Luis’s ability to hit on anything walking was something that he had in common with Desmond too – and that was one too many similarities for me. Poor Luis sealed his fate and didn’t even know it, and I couldn’t be bothered trying to explain myself or my reasons.

  After a while you realize men for who they are. He – and Desmond - were the type of guys who were more interested in the chase than what happened after, anyway. Probably. And if he wasn’t, well… he did a damn good impersonation of that kind of guy.

  And when you put that all together, it was all too easy to see that was why I preferred to stay single, especially at this point in my life. I had too many other things to worry about without trying to figure out a guy’s real intentions.

  I wasn’t that girl. Not anymore, anyway.

  Miguel

  May 18 was never a great day for me. Normally, I could just let the day pass by, content to keep the fact to myself that I was turning another year older. This year was different, though. Special, according to my younger sister, Maria.

  I doubted she’d feel so special when she turned forty. Then again, perhaps she would. Maria loved life and was a full blown extrovert. She never backed down from an excuse to have a party, whether for herself or someone else. Everything was to be celebrated.

  This time, I was the lucky recipient, and she’d gathered a few of our old friends to mark the occasion.

  My phone chimed with an incoming text, and I smiled as I checked it. It was from Maria, as if she’d been conjured by my thoughts.

  Happy birthday, Miguel! We’ll be there in thirty minutes. Wear something nice!

  I was half-excited, half-nervous about where we’d be going, what we’d be doing, and who might be coming with us. While she’d mentioned bringing some friends of ours from back in the day, she’d kept all the important details to herself.

  The smile that had been spreading across my lips turned to a frown as I thought of who it might be. She and I didn’t have many friends left from our old neighborhood. It was the kind of place that if you were lucky, you got out of the neighborhood by going to prison. If you were unlucky? You left in a body bag.

  I’d been the exception, always studying hard and hustling to get a leg up in life. Whenever someone shut a door on my ambition, I found a window. It was just how I was wired, and I ended up making my mother proud by being the first man in our family to attend college.

  When I was lucky enough to land a job at a sports agency right out of school, I made sure that I used some of the money from my first big payday to set my mom and my sister up in a nice apartment, as far away from that hell-hole as they could get.

  I sighed and typed out a quick reply.

  I can hardly wait…

  I contemplated putting in an eyeroll emoji, but I didn’t doubt she’d detect the sarcasm anyway. And besides, I didn’t want any lectures. She was going through a lot of trouble to make sure I had a good birthday, and I was thankful, even if I couldn’t quite muster pretending to be excited.

  My phone pinged again almost immediately.

  You never know. You might meet someone special tonight…

  This time I did roll my eyes in response — so hard it could’ve caused injury — but she of course couldn’t see it. I simply shoved my phone back into my pocket, deciding it would be easier to keep my thoughts to myself. Not that it would’ve stopped her, either way.

  Honestly, I wasn’t opposed to finding someone. Just… not someone my sister would set me up with. Especially not on my birthday. The best thing that could happen was a nice quiet night with my sister and some close friends.

  In fact, I’d have to assume that the odds of going home with a woman on my birthday were worse than normal, since I’d have an audience of family and friends to witness my dating fails. And it’s not like the odds were very good to begin with.

  Every date I’d been on recently — okay, well, every date I’d ever been on — had pretty much been a disaster. Even the ones that didn’t end in disaster just sort of… fizzled. The women I’d met - whether through speed dating, Happy Hours, friends, or dating apps - all seemed to be the same. They were more interested in my famous clients and the money I made than anything that actually had to do with me.

  When they inevitably discovered I was just a normal Pue
rto Rican guy with a normal life, they never called back. Never a second or third date. The most excitement I’d had lately was when my most recent date’s crazy ex showed up at the restaurant we were at and caused a scene. Apparently they’d only broken up the day before.

  I’m pretty sure I’m still not allowed back in that place.

  And of course, that was the last I’d heard of her.

  I just wanted to find a loving, genuine woman who wanted the same things I did. That would be a nice change of pace. Someone who was motivated by more than my money. Someone who would be happy living a quiet, normal life.

  But in Miami? I might as well be looking for a unicorn.

  I shook my head to clear my thoughts. There was no point in dwelling on my lack of a love life tonight. I had a feeling I was going to need every bit of willpower to gather an ample level of enthusiasm for whatever shenanigans my sister had planned.

  Knowing Maria, it could be anything.

  It didn’t take me long to figure out why Maria had insisted on keeping our destination a secret. She couldn’t have possibly picked a place that was more out of my comfort zone. But at least the food was good. And with our friends there — Johnny and Staci, Berto and Gina — it had been a blast from the past. She’d even brought a female friend, but she insisted it wasn’t with the intention of setting us up on a date. I didn’t quite believe her until the friend — Rita, maybe — mentioned that her husband would have never come along to a place like this.

  Ah, husband. Good.

  The place was called Cabaret South Beach, and it was different from anywhere I’d ever been. It seemed to be part fancy restaurant and part upscale strip club, not a combination I was used to seeing. And it was definitely a lot different from the normal strip clubs my clients usually dragged me into.

  The women were classy and sensual, and as corny as it might be, I found myself watching their actual performances just as much as the tits and ass. Well, almost as much. The tits and ass were pretty fucking outstanding, too.