Enchanted By You

by Alexander, Hilaria

  His eyes darken when he unbuttons my shirt, and pulls it off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

  “Talk about prime real estate,” I say, glancing at the shower that could fit six people, at least.

  “I agree,” he replies, his teeth grazing his bottom lip as his eyes travel down my body, giving my breasts an appreciative look.

  “That’s not what I was talking about,” I tease, playfully covering the top of my décolleté displayed in the demi bra with one of my arms.

  “Oh, but I am,” he says removing my hands, holding them in his. Lust ignites his emerald eyes. “Undress me, Ines.” His voice is a low rumble, and as his mouth captures mine, he brings my hands to the buttons of his shirt. I remember that first night, and I can’t believe how fast things have progressed. How can I be constantly starving for him? The taste of his tongue, the feel of him against me, it’s all I need to forget about everything else. Blood rushes to my head as my body electrifies like a magnetic field under his touch.

  Damn this man and his capable mouth…and capable hands. As I undress him, he manages to take off my bra and unbutton my pants. He lets them fall down to my ankles. His tongue strokes against mine maddeningly slow, but I savor the taste of him, a faint hint of cinnamon still on his tongue. When I unbuckle his pants, I caress his hardness through the fabric of the pants, and he moans into my mouth. It’s the hottest thing and it makes me even more wet for him. My hands run up the smooth planes of his torso while he tries to take his pants off with swift movements and then he breaks the kiss to hang them somewhere. I step out of mine and take off my shoes and socks. He switches off one of the lights on the large vanity, leaving just the main bathroom light on. He opens the glass door to turn on the hot water.

  We’re facing each other, standing in our underwear, and I can’t help staring at him, at his bulge, the proof of how much he desires me. Where he’s hard, I’m soft, but somehow our bodies complement each other in the best, most important way. Gripping my ass, he brings me closer to him as his mouth ravishes me once more. Glimpses of his hungry eyes have me breathing hard, thinking about what’s to come. The way he wants me, the way he loves me, makes me forget about the few extra pounds, about my full thighs and rounder ass.

  I’ve never felt so beautiful before.

  I feel emboldened by his love for me.

  After stripping off our underwear, he leads me into the shower, and I place myself under the showerhead, soaking myself. When I open my eyes, he’s staring at me, part wolfish, part playful.

  “I’ve been a damn fool,” he says.

  “About what?”

  “About not bringing you here sooner. You look so damn good in my shower. You look like you belong here,” he says in a low, husky tone. The words alone could send me over the edge, but Esteban’s intentions are matched by his expert hands. One of them caresses one of my breasts, pinching the nipple. He grabs some body wash and starts lathering me with it.

  His hands are everywhere, touching every curve, every sensitive spot, and the aching in my lower belly is merciless. I take his hard length in my hand, stroking it, and when his fingers part my lips and find my swollen clit, I see stars behind my eyelids.

  His lips cover mine, and when his tongue finds mine, I have to remind myself to breathe. I keep stroking him as he’s determined to bring me over the edge.

  And then it happens, and my body goes into havoc. The orgasm rips through my body and I break the kiss, crying out his name, holding myself up digging my nails in his skin.

  He kisses my cheek.

  “God, you’re so beautiful. I don’t think I could ever get tired of seeing you come.”

  My head is swimming, I’m under the water, but my body is on fire and I need more of him. I need him, and I want him to feel as good as he makes me feel.

  Emboldened by my orgasm, I drop to my knees.

  The soft but hungry look in his eyes is priceless. If he thought he liked me in his shower before, he’ll never be able to forget the image of me in it sucking him off. I take him in my mouth, my tongue rubbing along his smooth, velvety shaft. I suck him and stroke him up and down keeping a steady rhythm. With one hand in my hair, my love has to hold himself up with the other. His low, guttural moans make my nipples harden and I can only hope he’ll keep his promise to keep me up all night, because I need more of him.

  “I’m about to come,” he warns me as he gets harder in my mouth, but I don’t stop. I’m one hundred percent committed to this. My hands go up to his hips, steadying him as he comes, trembling. I swallow his release, and when he’s through, I get up to hug him and hold him to me. His teeth graze the skin of my jaw, my ear, biting and nipping wherever he can reach. He’s ravishing me, pausing every few seconds to give me a dreamy, lust-filled glance. The saltiness of him tickles my throat, but the look in his eyes is worth everything.

  “Good fucking God,” he whispers. “Let’s get out of here so I can properly return the favor.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve kept this gigantic bed all to yourself. I’m not sure I like you anymore,” I tease. Esteban chuckles as I try to get away from him in his king-size bed, but he manages to reel me in and he holds me tight to him.

  “Really? You don’t like me anymore?” His laughter tickles my skin.

  “Nope.”

  “The three condoms in the trash can would suggest otherwise.”

  “What can I say? You can be very persuasive.” I’m not sure what time it is, but neither one of us is showing any sign of slowing down. After our shower, we dried off and Esteban made good on his promise to ravish me. Over and over and over.

  I’m teasing him, of course, but I can’t believe that this whole time we’ve been having sex in my tiny bed when we could have been using his gigantic one.

  “Yeah?” His body hovers over me. “But you still don’t like me?”

  “We’ve been shacking up every night in my full-size bed, when you have a perfectly good king-size right here. And it’s so comfortable.”

  “So is yours.”

  “But it’s so small for the two of us.”

  “Are you saying you don’t like me wrapped around you every night?”

  “That’s not what I mean. But it would have been nice to know this beauty was here,” I say, stretching my arms wide across the soft memory foam mattress.

  “The only beauty I see here is you,” he says with such startling honesty, my nose tingles almost immediately and tears form in my eyes.

  “I love you,” I tell him, putting an end to my charade. “I love that you passed up the chance to sleep in this wonder to sleep curled up next to me.”

  “About that…I know that we already rectified, but I wanted to have a proper do-over?”

  “A proper do-over?” I laugh. “You had it. At the restaurant.”

  “That shouldn't count,” he says.

  “And why not?” I'm too entertained by the look of amusement in his eyes to not go along with whatever he has in mind.

  “Because that was not where I wanted to say it either,” he explains.

  “Where did you want to say it the first time?”

  “Here.” The gravelly tone of his voice sends a shiver down my spine. His eyes are black pools fixed on me, and his arm wraps around my waist.

  “Okay. You can…whenever you want.” I caress his face, ready for my heart to leap out of my chest again. The notion that he loves me still feels like a foreign concept, a beautiful dream I don’t want to wake up from.

  He runs a hand up and down my side, and my skin turns into goose bumps.

  “I’m sorry I said it to you on the phone.”

  I run my fingers along the stubble on his face.

  “I’m not really sorry it came out that way. It was spontaneous.”

  “Yeah…but I had been thinking about that for a while and that’s not how I wanted to do it…” He glances down at me and bites his bottom lip but doesn’t say anything.

  I frown. What’s he waiti
ng for? Is there a more perfect moment than this?

  Something flashes across his eyes, and he jumps out of bed. “What time is it?” he asks while he pulls a curtain to look outside.

  “I don’t know…” I roll over and grab my phone. “It’s almost six.”

  “Remember what I told you about the terrace?” he asks. “How would you feel about venturing upstairs?” I vaguely remember what he said earlier this morning about seeing the sunrise.

  “Okay…I guess. Let me grab my clothes.”

  “Here, wear this.” He hands me one of his T-shirts and a pair of soft jersey sweatpants. I put the T-shirt and then the pants on, foregoing trying to find my underwear in the bathroom. I’d like to say that just like in any given romance novel, my boyfriend’s clothes swallow me, but it’s not true, at least for me. The T-shirt is just slightly big for me, but the pants fit me just fine.

  “Ready?” He stretches his arm and we walk hand in hand. He grabs a light blanket from a closet nearby and we head upstairs. I’m smiling now, because I know what he’s up to. It’s not as spontaneous as the first time he told me, and it’s a bit cheesy, but I can’t fault him for being romantic. It’s been years since I’ve been up all night, but here I am, at six in the morning, wrapped in a blanket with the man I love, waiting for the sunrise. We snuggle on a chaise, mostly in silence, exchanging a few kisses as the sky starts to change, and then we see the sun slowly rise from behind the mountain.

  It’s so quiet and beautiful out here, I couldn’t be happier than I am with Esteban holding me, his nose running along my jaw.

  “Ines?”

  “Hmmm?” I ask, acting as if I have no idea where he’s going with this. As much as my heart is jumping with joy in my chest, I can’t believe I have this man’s love. However, something stirs when I turn and look into his beautiful eyes, glossy with emotion. It’s the realization that this wasn’t just a slip of the tongue, and it’s certainly not a dream.

  This is true, this is real.

  I’m in love with him and he’s in love with me.

  “This was how I wanted to tell you that I love you.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Thank you so much for letting me use your kitchen, Dolores. I could have never pulled this off if you didn't help me hide everything over here. I also couldn’t have possibly gotten everything I needed. My little kitchen is well equipped, but it just covers the basics, and I certainly don’t have any baking supplies.”

  “Don't even mention it, querida! I can’t wait to see his face! Do you think he suspects anything?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t think so. He thinks he's picking me up later tonight for a night on the town, and I told him I made a reservation at this restaurant he likes.”

  “How did you convince Lupe to give you her abuela’s chocolate cake recipe?” Dolores asks, pointing with her chin to the bowl in front of me. I’m whisking melted bittersweet chocolate with the sugar and butter I already creamed separately. I knew I wanted to make the spicy chocolate cake for Esteban’s birthday when he told me it was his favorite.

  When I asked Lupe if she had any idea where I could find the recipe for the cake her brother liked, she explained it was her grandmother’s.

  I shrug. “Lupe just gave it to me when I asked. I didn’t have to fight her over it or anything.”

  Dolores’ eyes narrow. “Que extrano,” she mumbles.

  “What’s so strange?”

  “Don't get me wrong, I love the Garcias, but they can be very protective of their own, their secrets...especially when it comes to food. I remember asking Lupe before for her grandma’s green salsa recipe and she was put off. And I’ve known her since she was in diapers. I have to say I was a little…offended that she dismissed me like that.”

  I frown. Lupe seemed happy to give me the recipe. I didn’t have to fight her for it. She reacted enthusiastically at the idea of throwing Esteban a dinner party for his birthday.

  I shrug off Lupe’s weird reaction to Dolores. “I’ve never made a spicy chocolate cake before. I’m curious to see how this one will turn out. God, I hope it turns out all right. Do you think I need to have a plan B in case I fail?”

  “No te preocupe, Ines. I’m sure it will turn out just fine. I’ve been watching you for the last two hours making those empanadas,” she says pointing at the tray of empanadas on the table. “It looks like you know what you’re doing. I don’t think this spicy chocolate cake will give you too much trouble. What else do you need help with?”

  I think about it. Lupe’s husband, Marcos, came by earlier today and helped us get some tables and chairs out of storage. Lupe, Marcos, and I lined them up in the courtyard, and then we hung up a few lanterns and lights to create a cozier atmosphere.

  “We just need to set the table when it gets closer to seven. And light those outdoor candles I bought and line them up outside at the entrance of the courtyard. Lupe is bringing a couple of dishes and Cyrus is showing up later with a couple of entrees.”

  “What time is Esteban coming to pick you up?”

  “I told him our reservation was at eight. He’s always early, so I expect he might show up around seven thirty. I told everyone to be here at seven,” I tell her with a dreamy look. I love that Esteban is always early, as if he can’t wait to see me, even though we spend almost every evening together. When he gets off work, he either comes and picks me up to take me to the Garcia manor, or he ends up staying at my place. I’m rarely alone at night, but when I am, I miss him with an intensity I can’t explain.

  “Ayayayai, look at you.”

  “I have no idea what you could possibly be talking about,” I tell her in jest, lifting my chin and closing my eyes, playfully dismissing her words even though I know that she’s right. I’ve been in trouble for weeks.

  I’m completely done for. I’ve been enchanted by the beautiful, ambitious, and skillfully talented Esteban Garcia. So much so, that I’ve been spending hours in this kitchen cooking for a surprise birthday party with his entire family—minus his parents, who are still traveling, but who are supposed to make an appearance later via FaceTime.

  I felt it was the least I could do. Esteban has done so much for me since I stumbled into his life.

  Not only has he become my lover, but he’s been encouraging me to go back to my first love, painting.

  Ever since finishing that first painting I gave him for the opening of Vida Dulce, there’s always a new blank canvas on my easel—and it doesn’t stay blank for long.

  I paint a bit in between breaks from work, or on the evenings Esteban is slammed at the restaurant. I’ve been painting portraits of him and Lupe, and now I’m working on a painting for Dolores. She refused to let me paint her, and instead gave me one of her favorite pictures of Pueblo, the town where she’s from, so that I could paint it for her.

  “It’s nice to see you happy, Ines. You deserve someone like Esteban. And he deserves someone like you, not like the women he’s dated in the past…” She gives me a knowing look, then quickly adds, “But I should keep my mouth shut.”

  “Nooooo,” I encourage her. “I want you to tell me all about Esteban’s past girlfriends. I talked to him about Brad, and besides him, I don’t have a whole lot of significant dating history. Esteban, however, has been particularly mum about his past girlfriends. I bet that whoever knows Esteban or his family has swooned after him at some point.”

  “Ay, sì. There’s been quite a few girls who chased after him, but I only remember one in particular.”

  “Who was she? How long were they together? Details, Dolores! Please?” I encourage her, as she glances to me a bit skeptical, as if she’s meddling in things she shouldn’t discuss. “I won’t tell Esteban…or Lupe. I promise. This is between you and me.”

  Dolores opens her mouth and I can tell she’s about to spill and tell me everything she knows, when we both hear voices outside that distract us.

  The courtyard is usually quiet, and the only time we hear loud voi
ces is when Lupe has Vincent and Oliver over at the store and they play outside.

  But we can clearly hear the voices of two women, so naturally, we peek out of Dolores’ kitchen window.

  I see a woman dressed all in black with long, voluminous and silky black hair yell something in the direction of Lupe’s store. She’s wearing motorcycle boots despite the warm weather. The tattoos on her arms are the only bit of color about her.

  She stops for just a second to look at the preparation for Esteban's birthday in the courtyard and she scoffs, then shakes her head and marches up my stairs. She starts banging on my door and becomes frustrated when no one opens.

  Who is she? I’m positive I’ve never met her before. I’m sure I’d remember her.

  Dolores mutters something under her breath, so low I can’t even understand.

  “Do you know her?” I ask her, but she doesn’t respond.

  “Where are you going?” Dolores asks as I head for her door.

  “Whoever she is, she must be looking for me, so I better go see what she wants, don’t you think?”

  “Be careful, querida. That one out there is a viper.”

  A laugh escapes my lips and I frown. “So you do know who she is.”

  “Not well. Wait for me, I’m coming with you.”

  “Hi, are you looking for someone?” I ask the woman in black as I descend the stairs from Dolores’ house.

  “Yes,” she yells back. “I’m looking for the woman who’s renting this apartment.”

  She comes down the stairs just as I reach the courtyard and I stop by the tables lined up for Esteban’s birthday, grabbing the back of an old wooden chair.

  “That would be me,” I tell her, exhaling a breath.

  “You’re Ines?” she asks, narrowing her eyes, the expression turning her features in a mask of defiance. She is, however, quite beautiful. Her complexion is creamy and youthful, despite the heavy makeup on her eyes and eyebrows. She circles around the table and comes closer, until there’s no more than two feet between us.