“What are you talking about?” Biceps flexing, he tightened his grip on her buns. “You’re not even half the weight of our practice dummy. You questioning my abilities, woman?”
Without waiting for her to answer, he took the stairs by two. Piece of cake.
Sara craned her neck to look down at the empty foyer below. Sunlight shone through the rectangular windows framing the front door, painting golden streaks across the dark wood floor.
“My, my.” She fanned herself with a hand. “Talk about hot stuff. Why have I never dated a firefighter before?”
“Because you’ve never met one who measures up to me.”
Right brow quirked in an oh-really way, her windblown ponytail swinging behind her, she pursed her lips in a sexy pout he planned to take his time kissing away.
“Promises. Promises,” she teased.
Never one to back down from a challenge (ask his older brother, who initiated and lost their jalapeño-eating contest in middle school), Luis continued down the short hall to the bedroom he and Sara shared.
He pushed the door shut with his foot, then spun to press her back against it. Her eyes flared, the color darkening to the rich blue of the open ocean when he took the Fired Up out for a little deep-sea fishing.
She jutted her chin, a come-and-get-me move that was like waving a red flag in front of his raging desire. He grazed his teeth gently on the tip of her chin, fighting the increasing urge to give in to the primal need to take her. Right here. Right now.
Her legs tightened around his waist, inviting him closer. “Show me what you got, stud.”
He reared back, surprised yet totally turned on by her assertive bedroom talk.
Sara’s brows furrowed. She scrubbed a knuckle at the tiny grooves between her brows, the first hint of insecurity he’d spotted since they’d gone into the water together.
“Um, that sounded sexier in my head,” she mumbled. “Less corny-movie-line-ish.”
The cutest blush spread from her chest, up her neck, and into her cheeks.
“I’m down for corny movie lines,” he told her. “And I’m really down for this.”
He ducked his head to drop a kiss on her collarbone. Another under her jawline. One more at the right corner of her mouth. Loving the way she melted in his arms.
“Yes,” she murmured, turning her head to meet his kiss.
He didn’t need to breathe. Didn’t even need food to survive. He simply needed her. This.
Her mouth hot and wet on his. Her body ready and willing. Carnal lust blazing with its intensity.
Sara moaned with pleasure. Her fingers clawed at his shirt, struggling to lift it.
“Off,” she demanded. “Now.”
He grinned, sandwiching her lower body between his and the door so he could use both hands to shuck his black tank.
Dios, he could get used to her looking at him like this. As if he were a delicious meal she couldn’t wait to devour. Knowing he made her feel that way stoked his ego. Filled the gaping hole he kept hidden deep in his heart with wonder and ecstasy.
He hadn’t realized how alone he’d been until Sara. Until she bulldozed her way into his dull, predictable, solitary life with her bright smile, engaging personality, and determination.
Agreeing to her crazy idea had changed him. He didn’t stop to consider why or precisely how. He couldn’t. Not when she gazed at his torso with those gorgeous, desire-filled eyes. The pink tip of her tongue slowly drawing across her bottom lip as if savoring what was to come.
Reaching behind his back, Luis unhooked her legs, then grasped her toned thighs and oh, so slowly slid her down the front of his body until her feet touched the hardwood floor.
He grasped the hem of her top, pausing for her assent. She lifted her arms over her head for him. Luis tugged the orange Lycra material up her torso, stretching it carefully over her face, then her ponytail, stopping when he reached her forearms to leave the stretchy material cinched around her. Lightly clasping her slender wrists with one hand, he held them in place above her as he cupped her jaw with the other and ducked down to cover her mouth with his.
She grazed his lower lip with her teeth. Sucked it into her mouth. Laved it with her tongue, then surprised him by taking control of the kiss. Driving him wild with each thrust of her tongue as her lithe body mimicked the motion against his.
His erection pulsed, begging for release.
As if she too were nearing her limit of foreplay, they broke apart, chests heaving. Eyes locked. In the quiet of the house, a rush of emotions fueled by the intensity of their pent-up desire built to a frenzy, sweeping over them with hurricane-force winds.
Suddenly they were scrambling to remove their beach clothes. Her bathing suit top flung across the room to land on the shelf next to the flat-screen TV. His board shorts and her bottoms were kicked aside. Together Luis and Sara moved to the bed, its ocean reef comforter apropos for the culmination of the titillating foreplay that had begun back at South Beach.
Sara pivoted into the bathroom, where Luis heard the rasp of a zipper.
Arms behind her back, his sexy mermaid returned to the foot of the bed where he waited. She whipped out a condom packet, her face lighting up like she’d found the key to paradise and was willing to share.
Unfortunately, it was only one. As in. One. Single. Packet.
Torn between laughing out loud or groaning his disappointment, Luis looped his arms around Sara’s slender waist as he shook his head. “Ay, sirena, one isn’t going to be nearly enough. But it’s a start.”
They tumbled onto the bed together in a tangle of arms and legs and shared laughter.
* * *
“Would you rather . . .”
Sara popped a green grape in her mouth and pondered what options to throw at Luis in their back-and-forth getting-to-know-you game.
In the past, she’d played for fun. Challenging friends with surface-level, purposefully difficult-to-choose-between, often meaningless options.
With him, she had an ulterior motive—find out what made this strong, moral, generous man to whom she was in danger of losing her heart tick.
They sat on the bed facing each other. He, leaning against the padded headboard. She, cross-legged in the center of the mattress. The sheets, a rumpled mess after their delectable lovemaking. And yes, making love with Luis could most certainly be described as beyond delectable.
The man had an uncanny, toe-curling way of finding her body’s sensitive spots. Like the juncture between her ear and jawbone, the hollow at her inner elbow, the base of her spine, her inner thigh as he trailed his tongue higher.
Sara shivered as desire unfurled inside her in warm, heady waves.
Good god, they’d already used two condoms from the box she’d packed in her toiletry bag, having modestly left the container in the bathroom at first. No need to appear greedy. Although frankly, when it came down to it, there was no denying her eagerness. The mere thought of Luis’s lips kissing her, licking her, driving her wild again set her body on fire.
Sex with Luis had been the most intense, sensual experience. Absolutely incredible. And scary.
Scary because she couldn’t stop herself from wanting more with him. More of everything. But as much as she might want to broach the topic of life, a relationship, after this week, she couldn’t squelch the unease that he might not be interested.
That maybe the reason he hadn’t been able to forgive his brother’s betrayal stemmed from Luis’s deep love for his fiancée. A love that had been twisted and taken advantage of by a woman whose deathbed confession and bid for absolution meant Luis hadn’t been given a chance to express his own hurt and humiliation over having been used and deceived in such a despicable way.
Instead, he’d listened, comforted his beloved in her last days. Bestowed the forgiveness she sought as she died, leaving him to take out his pain and anger on his brother. Without achieving his own sense of closure.
Years later, Luis remained unable to trust. Or mo
ve on.
No wonder he wasn’t keen about lying to Sara’s family and had been adamant about keeping her away from his.
Mamá Alicia’s caution whispered in Sara’s ear: Cuidado con lo que pides.
Sara had wished for a way out of the mess Ric’s no-show had spawned. Now she found herself facing an even bigger, potentially heartbreaking fiasco if she wasn’t careful.
Stretching out her arm, she snagged her water off the nightstand. She took a swig, but the metallic taste of unease lingered.
“Quit stalling or you lose your turn.” Luis nudged her knee with the back of his hand.
He adjusted the fluffy pillow lodged between him and the white upholstered headboard, then snagged a raw carrot from the platter on the mattress between them.
Earlier, after disposing of the second condom, he’d grabbed a pair of boxers, then run downstairs for snacks while she peed and cleaned up in their bathroom. Sara hadn’t bothered digging out clothes, choosing instead to slip on Luis’s black tank.
If she had buried her nose in the material and inhaled his earthy scent before putting it on . . . well, he didn’t have to know. By the time she heard the wooden steps creaking his ascent, Sara had scrambled back on the bed in his shirt and a pair of panties.
He’d returned balancing a serving platter overflowing with green grapes, baby carrots, and a hunk of Gouda cheese with one hand. In the other, he’d clutched a resealable bag of baked pita chips and two water bottles.
Let her go on record as stating what an absolute turn-on it was to see a man with a body that looked like it’d been sculpted by Rodin’s talented hands, and a mischievous smile that made her pulse blip stroll into her bedroom. Especially when he came bearing food meant to silence her growling stomach.
Would you rather stay in this bed with me all week or are you still hung up on the ex who clearly didn’t deserve you?
Sara took another healthy swig of water, stalling. He nudged her knee again, and she glowered at his impatience.
She swallowed, tried to work up the nerve to ask a more personal question, then chickened out and went for another generic one.
“Okay, would you rather bungee-jump or skydive?”
“Easy. Bungee-jump.” He snagged another carrot. “I already went skydiving on a weekend trip to Orlando with Carlos a few years ago. You?”
“Skydived with some sorority sisters at a place outside Tempe when we were in college. Might bungee-jump.” She hitched a shoulder in a not-sure shrug. “I’m on the fence.”
“How come?”
She picked up a slice of Gouda and nibbled on a corner, considering. When she looked up, she caught Luis staring at her mouth. Self-conscious, she licked her lips, catching a crumble of the nutty, smoky cheese with her tongue.
Heat flared in Luis’s dark eyes, the deep mahogany deepening to a rich reddish-brown.
Sara’s breath hitched. Lust throbbed in secret places that should have been sated after their spine-melting romps. Should have been, but far from it.
Which left her with two options for how to answer his question: keeping things simple and focusing on the great sex or digging deeper and pressing for a different kind of intimacy.
“I’m on the fence because the thought of some big rubber band keeping me from certain death doesn’t compute all that well in my brain. Sure, taking risks has helped me get ahead in my career. But I’m not too keen on situations with a high probability of me getting hurt.”
Like falling for a guy who couldn’t, wouldn’t, resolve his past.
Luis bit into a baby carrot, the crunch loud in the quiet room. He chewed. Swallowed. All the while his inscrutable gaze remained on her.
“I can respect that,” he finally said.
Sara released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Uncrossing her legs, she kept her left knee bent to avoid knocking their food platter and extended her right leg to prop her foot on the pillow. All the while wondering if he understood the subtext of her answer or if his thoughts remained on thrill-seeking vacation adventures.
“My turn,” he said, and she swore she heard a challenge in his words.
Head tilted pensively, he scratched his jaw. The motion had her recalling the feel of his scruff rubbing against her sensitive skin, rough and tantalizing.
Maybe she should stop reading into their situation. Enjoy it for what it was . . . an island fling that her inability to stand up for herself with her family had put into motion. Her therapist would have a field day with this if—no, when—Sara revealed the details. She knew the danger of hiding from the truth.
“Would you rather . . . ?” He paused, and damn if the calculating look in his eyes didn’t have her wondering what he might be up to.
“Would you rather maintain the undercurrent of tension with your sister or have a heart-to-heart while you’re on neutral turf here?”
Bam!
Talk about not wasting time with subtext and just tossing a grenade in the middle of their game!
Annoyed, with herself for tiptoeing and with him for barging right into the morass of her family drama, Sara pushed herself toward the foot of the bed. Away from a discussion she wasn’t particularly interested in having.
“Stop.” Luis grabbed her right ankle, holding her in place. “Don’t run from this. From me.”
The loose grip he held on her leg let her know she was free to go if she really wanted to; he wouldn’t force her to stay. The sincerity and conviction mingling in his expression. The truth hidden in the corner of her soul.
They all intertwined, weaving into a rope that tied her in place like one of those beautiful yachts they’d seen at the dock behind the Custom House yesterday.
She stilled. Her breaths coming shallow and fast. She stood at a crossroads, moving in infinitesimal increments in the right direction. One she wanted to go.
But old doubts peered from the shadows. Armed and ready to trigger unhealthy behaviors she’d fought hard to curb. There’d been a time when she would have weakened, gorged herself on junk food or laced up her running shoes desperate to leave those doubt-fueled fears in the dust.
Not anymore.
And yet, while her therapist regularly stressed the importance of open communication, Sara continued to shy away from her sister’s challenging personality and the inexplicable grudge Robin held against her.
Luis gently caressed her shin and calf. Not pushing, not backing off either. She eyed him warily, contemplating her options. Two could play this game.
“Would you rather stay angry and distant with your brother,” she asked him, “or do your part to try mending your fractured relationship?”
His fingers tightened around her calf for a second. Two. Three.
Then he released her leg and clasped his hands on his lap. His serious, tough-guy expression slid into place, blanketing his rugged features and dulling his dark eyes.
Sara stared back, feigning a confidence level her quivering insides belied. They had danced around their family problems. Pushing each other on different occasions. Never head-to-head like this.
Would he wash his hands of the discussion? Of her? Because she’d gone too far?
If so, then he wasn’t the man she thought . . . hoped . . . he really was.
Outside on the street a car honked. A warning that soon their private interlude would be over and her family would return.
But she and Luis had crossed a line in their previously platonic, ignore-the-simmering-attraction relationship. She wasn’t sure if they could go back to their charade as friends. Honestly, it wasn’t what she wanted.
Luis pressed the butt of his palms against his eye sockets as if they pained him. His muscular chest rose and fell on a heavy sigh. “Coño, we really suck at this game.”
A sputter-laugh burst from Sara’s mouth, expelling her pent-up anxiety. Charmed by his ability to find humor in their tenuous situation, she plucked a green grape and threw it at him. The piece of fruit hit his washboard stomach, then bou
nced onto his lap.
“Hey?!” he complained.
An amused, self-deprecating smirk pulled at his lips as Luis plucked her lame ammunition from the bunched material of his navy boxers and stuck it in his mouth. He picked up the food platter, moving it to the nightstand on his side of the bed.
Then, with a rakish black brow quirked, he grasped her ankle again and tugged her closer. A rush of pleasure filled her as her butt slid across the peach-colored cotton sheets.
“Ven pa’ca,” he bid, his deep voice encouraging her to come to him. Hands at her waist, he lifted her up so she could straddle his lap.
Sara laid her hands on his bare chest, marveling at her paler skin against his. Different, yet they shared so many similarities when it came to their family lives.
Luis’s hands slid slowly up her back, splaying over her shoulder blades, stopping when they came to rest at her nape. She melted under his tender ministrations. Marveled at how utterly beautiful and wanton she felt in his arms.
Overwhelmed by the swirl of lust and genuine affection coalescing inside her, Sara pressed her forehead to his. Her lids fluttered closed. The scent of ocean water, sweat, and sex surrounded her, a perfume she longed to bottle up and savor later.
“What a pair we are, huh?” Luis whispered.
Sara opened her eyes and met his gaze. Desperate to know what he was thinking. If he was as torn and conflicted about where they stood, about their pasts and the problems they had yet to face.
“What are we doing here?” she asked, unable to keep her doubts silent any longer.
Luis combed his fingers through her hair, tucking the loose tresses behind her ears. Tenderness blossomed in her chest when she noticed he still wore her ponytail holder on his wrist where he’d slipped it on after gently removing it from her hair earlier.
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “You challenge me in ways I normally resist. But somehow, with you it’s different.”
He ran the pad of his thumb along her jaw, an awed expression in his eyes as they tracked the caress.
“You make me want to try. Make me want . . . things I haven’t allowed myself to want in a really long time.”
Island Affair Page 23
