by Tamara Lush
“I’ll go slow.”
Would he go slow when he found out I was a virgin? That I was still broken from grief after my mother and brother had been killed in a car crash the summer before I left for university? That I’d almost dropped out?
I shook my head. “I don’t think I can.”
“Why?”
“Um. I don’t want to tell you on our first date. Maybe we can walk down the street for pizza, or I can make something…”
No way was I going to tell him a motorcycle going the wrong way down the interstate was what led to the crash that had killed my mother and brother. I’d been in the backseat and walked away, unhurt. Everyone said it was a miracle, but I thought it was a curse.
Rafa shrugged. “I don’t care where we go or what we do. I just want to be with you. Hey, are you okay?”
I swallowed tears and nodded.
Rafa put his arms around me. He was wearing a leather jacket, and the smell was heady, intense, inconsistent with his soothing gesture and voice.
“We don’t have to go anywhere. Your apartment is perfect.”
I snuggled into his chest. Hesitant, I slid my arms around the hard muscles of his torso, in between his jacket and T-shirt. I put my ear to his chest and listened to his fast heartbeat.
One of his hands wove through my hair and the other claimed the small of my back, drawing me tight against him. He kissed my forehead, and I'd never felt anything so tender, or so erotic.
For the first time since the car crash, I felt safe.
It was like that every time we were together. Which was a lot, because we soon became inseparable. For weeks, we’d hang out, eat, talk, and kiss. He didn’t demand anything, but each night, we explored a few more inches of each other’s bodies. One night, I told him that I was ready to go all the way. He’d smoothed my hair and kissed me deep and told me he’d arrange everything. I wasn’t sure what he meant, but two days later, he took me to the hotel on South Beach where he worked parking cars as a valet.
First he led me into an elevator, and then he stood behind me and covered my eyes, guiding me in little steps until we reached a door.
“Keep your eyes shut, okay?” I felt him put something over my eyes.
“A blindfold?” I giggled nervously.
“That’s right, baby.” I let him lead me by the hand a few steps. I heard the door close.
“Rafa, what floor are we on? Are we in a room? How did you get this? Did it cost a ton?”
“Shhhh. No more questions. Don’t worry. I have the hookup with my boss. It’s a slow week and the hotel gave me the room for free because I worked overtime.”
He cupped my face with his hands, my heart racing. His lips tasted like mint, and I swirled my tongue over them until his mouth was slippery and I was out of breath. I was scared and excited about spending a full night with him. Even though I lived in the dorm and him in an apartment, there’d been nothing stopping us from sleeping together. We just hadn’t because we’d been waiting for the right moment.
Tonight was that moment.
“Don’t move.”
I heard footsteps, the jangle of keys, and then the flick of a match. A second later, slow, sensual Cuban bolero music played in the background.
How much more perfect could my life be? After everything I’d been through, my time with Rafa was like a fairytale.
He returned to me, and I felt the warmth of his body before he kissed me again. I shivered as he stroked my face with his hands.
“You’re so beautiful. God, Justine.”
Reaching around my head, he untied the strip of black cloth wrapped around my eyes and allowed it to fall to the floor. My hands flew to my mouth and I gasped when I saw the simple luxury of the room. The candles flickered, and a stand cradled a bottle of champagne in ice.
I turned and wrapped my arms around his neck, meeting his grin with seductive eyes.
“This is like a dream. Girls are supposed to lose their virginity in the backs of cars or on their parents’ sofas, not in swank hotel rooms on South Beach.”
“I wanted to do this right. You’re not just any girl. You’re my girl. I’m responsible for your happiness.”
I pressed against him, my lips grazing his neck. He fisted my hair in his hand and tugged enough to send another wave of desire through me.
“I can’t believe we’ve managed to wait this long.” I sighed.
His hands skimmed down my back until they cupped my bottom. Reaching under my dress, his fingers found the lacy material underneath. I wanted him right then, wanted him to lay me on the plush cream carpet and strip me bare, but I didn’t want to show my impatience. I wanted to savor every moment, because this night would never happen again.
“Me neither. Not like you haven’t tempted me over the last thirty-two days, twelve hours, and five minutes since we met.”
“You’ve been counting?”
He laughed. “You haven’t?”
I grinned and pulled back from his embrace. His mouth was so sexy, and I was ready to consume it and the rest of him. I undid a button on his shirt as he slipped the thin straps of my dress down both shoulders. He kissed me twice, chaste kisses against my grin.
“It’s so awesome that we’ve waited. Thank you for respecting me and my wishes.”
“Of course. I would never hurt you or disrespect you.”
And then, we ignited. He kissed me forcefully with an open mouth, gasping for my kisses as he circled his arms around my waist and pulled me close. I moaned into his mouth and unfastened a few more buttons on his shirt.
Breathing hard from the kiss, I rested my forehead against his.
“Rafa, did you ever do this for anyone else?”
He sighed.
“Amor, I’m not good at talking about my past, but—”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
He pushed my hair away from my face.
“I could play with your hair for hours. Years. A lifetime.”
My eyebrows knitted and my eyes turned watery. I’d never been jealous before and never jealous of a girl—or girls—I didn’t know. But the idea that Rafa had been with others before me somehow slayed me.
“No, no, no. Don’t get upset.” He drew me closer, as close as we could be with clothes on. “I have a secret. I’m a virgin, too, Justine. I’m as nervous as you are.”
I was stunned into silence.
Taking my hand in his, he put it on his chest, over his pounding heart. “Feel that?”
I nodded, wide-eyed.
Rafael kissed me softly, then hovered his mouth over my lips.
“I’ve never said this to anyone. Never felt this way about any girl. It’s why I waited for you, Justi.” He sighed and smoothed back my hair.
“I love you,” I blurted. Diana had told me I shouldn’t say those words to him first, but something about the moment seemed right.
He swallowed, and his eyes got a little cloudy. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Of course you do.” I hugged him tight. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“You love me despite the fact that I’m an orphan, a kid who came to Miami on a rickety boat, a valet parking attendant hustling to get ahead in a crazy-ass city. You don’t care that I’m not rich. That’s incredible, you know what I mean? Especially because you come from all that money. Your father’s a big newspaper owner.”
“I love your hustle.” I kissed his cheek. “I love you.”
He broke out of my embrace and looked at me with blazing eyes. "It’s my plan to make enough money to treat you like a queen. Do you understand, Justine? Do you? Everything I’m working for is for you.”
I nodded. Rafa could be so intense sometimes, and that was one of the many reasons why I loved him. He was passionate about stuff, outspoken, decisive.
“I understand. But really, you don’t have to work hard for me. I don’t care if you’re rich or poor, you know that, right? Because I love you.”
He hugged me so hard I s
queaked. Then he kissed me again and raked his hands down my body, which made me moan. When he stripped off my dress, I stood, half-naked and trembling. This was it. We were going to make love. Even though I hated that term and thought it was cheesy. But love was what I felt, and right then, I felt like my heart was too big for my body, so overfilled with happiness and excitement that it might burst.
“Rafa, you can’t be a virgin. You seem so…I dunno, experienced. You know exactly what you’re doing when you touch me.”
Rafa stroked my cheekbones with his thumbs. “I know what I’m doing because I love you.”
11
Captive
“Sleep well?”
How the hell did he get in my office? He’s sitting in my chair, behind my desk, reading the Times. He folds a corner of the paper down to greet me with an arched eyebrow and amused eyes.
I grunt in response. “You seem like you’re in a better mood.”
He grins. “I’ve decided to put last night behind us and start fresh.”
“Good to hear.” I busy myself by taking off my tan raincoat. I glance up to see him studying me.
“Look at you, Justi. There’s some color in your cheeks today. It wasn’t there yesterday morning when I arrived. Something must have happened to excite you.”
Bastard. I shoot him a side-eye and take my ham sandwich out of my laptop bag. It hasn’t survived the drive to work mashed between my laptop and a book. I stifle a grunt of annoyance as I open the dented, 1990s-era mini-fridge and toss it inside. I notice he’s still smiling.
Looking at him makes my face tingle. My index finger absentmindedly strokes my bottom lip. Somehow, he’s even more handsome in today’s midnight-blue suit than yesterday’s charcoal number. He has on a dark-blue, polka-dotted tie, and the ensemble is so masculine, so conservatively corporate and sexy, that I wryly remember something I’d once read.
I think my ovaries just exploded.
It’s as if my hormones are scattershot around my body. I’d tossed in bed all night, annoyed with the need for Rafa after years of telling myself that I was free of his spell. I’d even unearthed my vibrator from the back of the nightstand drawer and used it for the first time in ages. Now, in the harsh light of my office, I wonder if somehow Rafa can sense I pleasured myself—twice—while thinking of him as the rain fell in the darkness outside my bedroom window.
He folds the paper and tosses it on my file-strewn desk. Leaning back in the chair expansively, hands clasped behind his head, his grin grows wider.
“Who let you in?” I snap.
“Diana.”
Damn her. I can’t be too mad at her because of the pregnancy. The baby’s my godchild. Still. Couldn’t she have put Rafa in the conference room on the third floor, far from my office?
“Beautiful scarf. Trying to hide something?”
I’m wearing a blue silk scarf because he’d left not only a small bruise where he had bitten me, but a medium-sized hickey on my neck as well. Like an uncontrollable and horny teenage boy. I tug at the scarf, which makes me look a little like a flight attendant. That fact, along with my mangled sandwich, has me in a sour mood.
“And your little chin. Why is it so red? Por que?”
Scowling, I touch the pad of my index finger to my chin and my skin smarts. His stubble had scraped my flesh raw during last night’s frenzied makeout session. I ignore his provocations. “Where’s Diana?”
“She’s still gathering all of the paperwork and numbers. Until then, I think I’m going to make myself comfortable. See how this operation works, make some calls on other deals, check up on the Miami office.”
“So you’re just going to move in? Take over? What is this? A coup?” How long will I have to endure this torture? Even if I had the money, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if there was time to take a vacation. I mentally scroll through my schedule, wondering if I could suddenly develop a keen interest in yoga or knitting or whatever it is that childless, single women my age do when they aren’t working all the time.
He straightens his spine and picks up the paper again. “The photos of the dogs at the pool came out well, don’t you think?”
Leaning against the desk with my back to him, I shrug and wonder why he’s trying to be so nice to me after last night’s debacle in bed. I take out my phone and swipe to the paper’s Twitter account. I skim the posts and read the big story of the morning—a sinkhole swallowed a car—and scan other local news sites. I see that the city’s blogger-gadfly posted how the reporters at the Times buzzed at the presence of a private equity investment firm from Miami. The blogger speculated the paper would be bought outright. I sigh. Who leaked to the blogger? More importantly, will this affect advertisers?
“So will there be a @StAugustineTimes in 10 years? 5? 1?” the blogger tweeted.
What a pain in the ass. I stab at the phone with my thumb to turn it off and whirl to face Rafa. “Yeah. The photos looked great. It’s nice that Ethan got off his ass to take them himself.”
He smiles tolerantly and sets the paper down. “Oh, Justine?”
I have to stifle my mirth because his dimples are showing on his freshly shaven face. His skin is so smooth and soft-looking that I want to run my fingers over it. Better yet, nibble on his neck.
His eyes go round. Rafa could always do this thing with his big eyes, making them seem eager and adoring all at once. He could be so damned sweet when he wanted, and I’m powerless when he turns on his charm.
“Yes, Rafecito?” I use my old nickname for him.
“Where’s the coffee? You know how I need coffee in the mornings. In my office in Miami, I have a whole catered breakfast spread for the employees.”
My cheeks flare with embarrassment. Two years ago, when my father was still publisher, he’d eliminated the coffee service because it was money the paper couldn’t spare. Someone had brought in a cheap coffee maker, and the brew was so nasty that I’d switched to tea. I’m not about to admit any of this to Rafa, who clearly can afford a trip to the nearby gourmet café.
“There’s a coffee house across the street. We went there yesterday.”
“Oh, the place where the owner flirted with you? What was his name? Mark? Perfect. When you go, can you grab me a double espresso? No, make that triple. Tell Mark I said hello.”
I move my messenger bag and purse from the chair onto the stained sofa and shut the door. How the hell had he picked up on Mark’s subtle flirtations? He’d been asking me out for months, since my breakup with Jared. Standing in front of Rafael, hands on my desk, I glare at him and drum my fingernails on the wood.
“Hold up. No. First, I’m not your secretary. Last time I checked, I’m the publisher here and I have work to do. I’m not fetching your coffee. And you’re not going to take over my office.”
He looks into my eyes. Again with the amused face and the dimples. “Oh. I thought you’d want me nearby so I can see firsthand what a great asset the Times is. I’ll have so many questions for you. I’m thinking about investing in your business, so I’ll need lots of information from you, the owner.”
I swallow. I have to keep my emotions in check if I want convince him to save the Times, but maintaining an even temper around him is difficult. I try to stare into his eyes, as if to gather some of his power, but his gaze is busy somewhere around my lips.
Rafa stands up and tents his arms on the desk. He leans forward. We’re now both angled toward each other, inches apart. I bite my lip, thinking of a way to get him out of my office. He’s too distracting and knows exactly how to tease me. I’ll never get anything done with him around, and I have a paper to put out, a presentation to a group of local business owners to prepare for, and some statewide journalism awards to judge. I can’t let him derail my life.
I mirror his pose, leaning forward so our faces are inches apart.
I adjust the ends of the scarf away from my chest. A satisfied thrill goes through me when I see his eyes wander down my cream-colored blouse to my cleav
age. That morning, I’d made sure to wear my sexiest push-up bra and decided not to button my blouse as high as I normally do. His eyes glaze over a bit, and I know he’s in a bit of a man trance. He licks his bottom lip, and the urge to kiss him overtakes any annoyed feelings.
I allow the tension to build for several seconds, and when I speak, I let my thick Southern drawl emerge. “I would be delighted for you to spend time in the newsroom so you can see what talented journalists we have and why it’s so important to save this community institution. I’ll call maintenance to move that ugly sofa and drag down a desk from the storage room so we can set it up in here for you.”
He smiles wickedly and sits back down. Picking up a pen and twirling it between his long fingers, he doesn’t say anything for a moment as he studies my body. I shift my eyes from his fingers to his lips, and my mouth actually waters.
“No need, muñeca. I’ve already arranged for new furniture. A desk for you, a desk for me.” He points at a bare wall with the pen. “Especially if I end up investing, my employees will need a place to work when I send them up from Miami. This room is so big. It’ll be more attractive with two desks in here and some new chairs. These are so uncomfortable.” He looks down and slaps the duct tape-wrapped arm of my decrepit office chair. “The furniture delivery should be here in a few hours.”
I sputter in protest, but he holds up his hand. “It’s a gift, something to remind you of me long after I’m gone. I’m sure you can think of some way to thank me, no? Use your imagination. In the meantime, I’m going for that triple espresso. Would you like to join me?”
I shake my head and dig my nails into the palms of my hands.
“How is this going to look to the employees?” I asked. “The publisher is getting new furniture while everything else around here is failing? We can’t even keep the vending machines stocked. The faucet’s broken in the men’s room.”
“Yeah, I saw that and ducked into the women’s room to wash. Hope that was okay.”
I squeeze the back of my neck with my hand. “Jesus, how embarrassing.”
“We’ll work it all out, Justine. By the way, I’m taking Caroline out to lunch today. You’re not invited. We’ll probably talk about you.” His smile is flirtatious and playful. It infuriates me even more. I pick a thin, steel ruler up off my desk and grip it in both hands and squeeze, the hard edges cutting into my palms.
