She leaned toward him with imploring eyes. “I didn’t care about what you had or what you didn’t have. As far as I was concerned, there was no difference between us.”
“That’s idealistic.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is. There were six of us living in a two-bedroom apartment. Do you know how embarrassed I was to have you see my home and learn about our living conditions?”
His upbringing was never far from his mind, and to this day, he still lived life simply, careful with his money, budgeting and saving because he didn’t have a steady paycheck and never knew when it could all go away.
“I didn’t care about your living conditions,” Carmen said in a dull voice.
“But I cared.”
She pushed away her plate as if she suddenly found the food distasteful. “We’re talking in circles. We’ve had these conversations before. I can’t help who my family is, and neither can you. Just admit you didn’t want to be with me, because everything else you’ve said are excuses, and you know it.”
“They’re not excuses. I couldn’t offer you anything, and I needed to work and prove to myself I could succeed doing the work I love.”
She glanced away from him to the night outside. A muscle flexed in her jawline. When she looked at him again, there were tears in her eyes. “Did you love me?”
“More than anything else in the world,” Carlos answered immediately in a thick voice.
“What’s to stop us from being together now? You’ve proven yourself. You’re successful.”
“I’m not where I want to be.”
“And where do you want to be?”
“In a place where money doesn’t matter. A millionaire, maybe?”
“And if that’s not in the cards for you?”
He shook his head and swallowed. “I don’t know.”
An uncomfortable silence settled over the table, and he didn’t know what to say to fix the awkwardness.
Carmen stared at the empty space her plate previously occupied. “Thank you for dinner, but it’s time I head out. I’m going to call a cab and go back to Nat’s.” Her chair scraped back on the tile floor, and she stood.
She moved quickly, and Carlos scrambled from his seat and caught her halfway to the door. He pulled her back into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her. Closing his eyes, he rested his cheek against hers and inhaled the sweet, rosy scent of her skin.
“Don’t go.” He would drop to his knees and beg if he needed to.
She hung her head, but the tension slowly eased from her body and she relaxed into him. When he was certain she wouldn’t bolt, Carlos turned her around to face him.
“How much longer will you be here in Atlanta?”
“I leave the middle of next week.”
Mierda. That wasn’t much time.
“Spend some of that time with me.”
“Why should I?”
He threaded their fingers together and pulled her against him. “Because I’m asking.” He lifted one of her hands and kissed the knuckles. “I want to keep talking to you, and I haven’t shown you my work yet. I want you to see them.”
“I would like to see your paintings,” she said cautiously.
“Come on. Let me show you some of my completed projects.”
He continued to hold her hand as they walked to the area where he worked. Now that he was touching her, he didn’t want to let go. He felt comfortable like that, and clearly so did she.
“Stay right here.” He went to the wall, picked up one of the canvases, and turned it around to face her. “This was a commissioned piece.”
“It’s gorgeous,” she whispered.
They continued in the same vein with the others. He showed her a work of art, and then he explained the story behind it. She listened attentively. If she was bored with his explanations, she didn’t let on. She asked questions, and more than once they laughed out loud together.
Finally, he opened the closet and pulled out the three paintings he’d kept for last.
Carmen gasped. She looked from the paintings to his face and back again. “That’s me,” she said.
“You were always on my mind, Carmen.”
A sad little smile slipped across her lips. “And you were always on mine.”
He guided her over to the living room sofa in front of the TV and showed her a portfolio filled with pictures of his paintings. They sipped wine and chatted about his work and hers. They shared funny stories from the past and caught up on the current events in each other’s lives.
Their camaraderie reminded him of how they used to be, before their relationship fell apart. Before he thought it was better to leave her behind.
Before he’d made the biggest mistake of his life.
6
Carmen slowly woke up, and a few seconds passed before she became oriented to her surroundings. The street lights contributed their brilliance through the windows to the interior of the dark loft. Carlos had one arm around her, holding her close to his side.
They’d fallen asleep watching a movie.
He was still asleep, his Adam’s apple sticking out as his head rested on the back of the sofa. She studied him—the hard jawline, the large, straight nose, and the sort of casual sexiness he wore in every act, even while he slept.
Speaking of which, how long had they been asleep? She looked around but couldn’t find a clock, and her phone lay face down on the coffee table.
Her gaze traveled the length of Carlos’s body and stopped at his lap. He may be asleep, but his body wasn’t. Not if his tented slacks were any indication. His left hand twitched against her arm, and his body tensed, chest going up and down a little faster. He must be dreaming—maybe about her?
Knowing that she might be the reason for his arousal excited her. Carlos groaned and shifted, and then his eyes flew open. He blinked rapidly several times, as if trying to determine if he really saw her or was dreaming.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi.”
“You were dreaming.”
He swallowed. “Yeah.”
“About me?”
Stillness filled the air as he paused, eyes intently focused on her face. “Yeah.”
Carmen eased her hand down his chest to the front of his pants. Carlos took a deep breath, but he didn’t stop her. Her hand massaged his hard length through his clothes while his jaw hardened with the tension exerted to remain still.
“What were you thinking about?” Carmen asked.
“I think you know,” he answered in a strained voice.
The same thing she was. Seeing him again made her emotional and long to be closer. Maintaining eye contact, she eased from under his arm and lowered to the floor.
“Carmen, you don’t have to do that,” he said, but didn’t sound very convincing.
“I want to.” She loved giving head—to him. Damn near salivated at the thought of having that pleasure again—the weight against her tongue, the width of him stretching the corners of her lips tight.
His face twisted into a brief grimace, as if her actions would bring him pain instead of pleasure.
Carefully, she unfastened the button on his pants. As she lowered the zipper, he stopped breathing completely and his fingers curled into fists beside his thighs.
Carmen grasped the base of his shaft, and lowering her head, she maintained eye contact and slowly circled the tip with her tongue before sucking the hard flesh between her lips. He inhaled sharply, his chest rising as she stretched her mouth over his wide width. She took her time and made a game of teasing him and enjoyed watching him squirm as she licked the veined underside with steady strokes and then blew on the tip.
She moved her mouth and the hand at the base of his shaft in time together until Carlos was panting and gripping the sofa’s edge. She moaned as she enthusiastically engaged in the act, which only turned him on more. He cursed loudly and grabbed a handful of her hair, and she tightened the suction of her mouth, sucking ha
rd, gripping him with her right hand while the other gently raked the inside of his thighs and fondled his balls.
Carlos started thrusting, his breathing heavy and labored. “Carmen,” he groaned, his voice a warning.
But she didn’t want to stop. She took pride in making him feel good. In making love to him and showing how much she’d missed him—how much she’d missed sharing such intimacies with him.
She moaned and whimpered around his dick, little sounds that let him know how much she relished the task at hand. She enjoyed it so much her panties were damp and her nipples hard as pebbles.
Carlos’s head fell back, and he let out a harsh curse. “I’m coming, Carmen.”
He sounded so helpless—helpless in the clutches of her mouth. She pinched the sensitive skin of his testicles, and he swore again and let out a shuddering moan. Face still tilted toward the ceiling, he gripped the back of her head with both hands and forced her mouth lower on his hard flesh.
She gave in without resistance and let him lift deeper into her mouth. Warm cum hit the back of her throat, and he shuddered as she massaged his thighs and pelvis, wringing every last bit of tension from his body until he wilted into the cushions.
Carmen withdrew her mouth and then sat on the table before him, satisfied with her performance, and Carlos clearly was too. When he finally lifted his head and looked at her, the intensity in his dark eyes in the nearly black room sent warm tingles over her skin.
He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her cheeks, a corner of her mouth, and then her lips.
“You have a dangerous mouth,” he said in a low voice.
Mighty pleased with herself, Carmen smiled.
“I need to return the favor.”
She shivered in anticipation when his lips briefly touched against hers in a soft kiss. Then he kissed her again, harder and more prolonged.
Carlos stood and adjusted his pants. Then he lifted Carmen in his arms, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He placed her on the bed against the pillows and within seconds had removed her heels and romper, leaving her almost naked before him in a pair of silky black panties.
Carlos kicked off his shoes and lowered to the bed. Without warning, he pushed her legs apart and pressed his face between her thighs. He took a deep breath and groaned, fingers gripping her calves as he held her legs open.
“Carlos,’’ she whispered, arching her back. His face against her crotch, smelling her, was almost obscene.
He sucked on her through her panties, using his teeth and lips in a torturous move that had her lifting off the mattress. He sucked until her panties were wet with his saliva and her own arousal. His actions were unbearably erotic and typical Carlos. He loved to torture her.
Finally, he pulled her panties to the side and took another deep breath, and she heard another low moan escape from him. With his head bent over her, she couldn’t see him well for the sweep of hair that covered his features. His curls brushed the inside of her thighs and added another sensation to further torture her heavily aroused body.
“This used to be mine,” he whispered.
It still is.
The words trembled on the tip of Carmen’s tongue, but she didn’t have a chance to speak because he slid the underwear down her legs and tossed it aside. Then his mouth landed on her with a sloppy, wet sound. He devoured her lower lips like a man possessed, swirling his tongue around and within and then licking his lips, as if he’d never tasted anything so delicious.
The fingers of one hand slid onto the back of his head, slipping into the soft curls and keeping him in place against her center. His tongue glided through the slippery wetness coating her sex. Aroused and aching, Carmen spread her legs wider and let him feast, squeezing her own breasts with her other hand and rubbing on her painfully hard nipples.
The unerring swipe of his talented tongue showed no mercy to her stiffened clit. With her breathing fractured and irregular, Carmen pleaded with him not to stop. She was so close to coming.
Finally she did, her fingers going back to his hair and tightening, her body rocked by tremors so profound her back arched, her eyes closed tight, and her mouth fell open on a hoarse cry of pleasure.
But Carlos wasn’t done. He crawled up the bed, and his mouth closed over one chocolate-tipped breast.
“Wait,” she whispered, barely recognizing the tormented sound to her own voice as her sensitive body struggled to recover.
He ignored her hoarse plea and gorged on her taut flesh, then shifted to the other nipple and sucked and licked with utter abandon. Every movement of his mouth echoed with intensity at the apex of her thighs.
His hands skated down her body, sweeping over her legs and knees, exploring as if every inch was brand new. But it wasn’t. He knew all of her.
He took control of her pleasure, and she reacted in kind. She tugged his shirt and undershirt off with urgent desperation to experience the pleasure of her naked skin against his. She scraped her nails down his sides and over his tight ass—a little too harsh. A little too anxious.
“I want you. I need you,” Carlos whispered.
“Yes. Yes,” Carmen panted.
He sheathed himself in protection and then gripping her bare ass, aligned his hips with hers and pressed home with a low groan. The entire universe stood still while her muscles stretched to fit the depth and circumference of his solid erection. The drive of his hips inflicted immense pleasure, forcing her to wail and gasp and tremble beneath him.
Carlos had control of her body and used a commanding force of thrusts and hard hands to hitch her hips higher and allow him in deeper. Another moan scaled the length of her throat and escaped through her mouth. She grabbed a handful of hair and gripped one of his shoulder blades, pushing her hips higher and harder against his, running down the orgasm just out of reach.
“That’s it. Harder, mi amor. Come for me.”
And she did, splintering into pieces at his simple command. Contracting around him and turning his smooth rhythm into a manic pace. Her whimpers of pleasure sounded in the room, her fingers digging into the hard muscles of his back. Her hoarse cries swept through the cavernous space. Nothing in life had ever felt as good as being claimed by him.
Carlos shuddered and collapsed on top of her, burying his face into her neck. She wrapped her arms around him, rubbed the musculature of his back, his shoulder blades, and wrapped her legs around his waist and just held on.
Overcome by emotion, she said softly in his ear, “I still love you.”
His whispered response was immediate. “I still love you, too.”
7
Carlos squinted into the bright morning light. No surprise he’d slept later than usual after the night he and Carmen had.
The scent of freshly brewing coffee weighed on the air, and he lifted onto his elbows and stared across the open space at Carmen. She wore her short hair in a loose knot on the crown of her head and moved around the kitchen in his bedroom slippers and the sleeveless white undershirt from the night before. The shoes were way too large for her small feet, but made sense on the cool tile floor. The shirt swamped her body and looked more like a dress on her petite frame, and when she turned slightly, the sides of her breasts were on display.
Humming softly as she worked, Carmen poured coffee into two mugs on the counter while Sofia rubbed against the back of her calves in an attempt to get her attention.
Warmth unfolded in his chest. She behaved as if she’d been there many times before and making coffee Saturday morning after a long night of sex was part of their regular routine.
It could have been, a nagging voice whispered.
Carlos brushed aside the thought. No negativity. He preferred to dwell on the here and now.
He fell back against the pillows and stared up at the wood beam ceiling. They didn’t have much more time together before she left for Toronto, and he didn’t think he’d ever hated anything as much as the thought of her leaving to go home.
“Good morning,”
Carmen sang as she came toward him, face beaming and a steaming cup in each hand. “I see you’re up, and I made coffee.”
“How long have you been awake?” Carlos sat up and took one of the mugs. “Thank you.”
“Not long. Long enough to make coffee and that’s it.” She sat cross-legged beside him and took a sip.
They both looked at each other.
“So…” she said.
“So,” Carlos said, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth.
Carmen bit her lip. “About last night…”
“I’m glad you came. I’m glad you stayed.” Carlos looked into her eyes.
“Good, because I’m glad, too, and I don’t care about what happened in the past. I’m just happy we’re here together again. I’m right where I want to be. With you.”
He didn’t deserve her. She was too damn good for him. “Perfect. We see eye to eye.”
The smile she sent him, right before she took another sip of coffee, was soft and sweet and radiated joy. He was the reason for her good spirits, and if he could, he’d always keep her smiling.
Carmen rested her back against the pillows, stretching out her legs on top of the sheet. “What do you want for breakfast?”
“Most of the time, I have fruit or cereal—something simple. But, there’s a place not too far from here where we can eat. Want to try it?”
She nodded. “I’m starving. We should clean up and get dressed then, huh?”
“Yeah, but before we do, we need to talk.”
Carlos raked his fingers through his messy hair. Carmen used to always be the one who wanted to have the serious conversations, while he used to always run from them because he wanted to pretend there was nothing wrong. He didn’t do that anymore.
“You leave in four days,” he announced, as if she didn’t know that already.
Immediately glum, Carmen nodded. “I wish we had more time.”
Never Again: a second chance romance (Quicksand Book 3) Page 4
