He loved making love to her this way, loved the way she sang for him on the wings of pleasure, loved the way her body felt sheltering his. He loved the way she spoke, the way she moved and the way her lips pursed when she was deep in thought.
I love everything about her.
I love her.
He continued to move, stroking her with all the passion he felt, even as he pushed away those thoughts. Love meant commitment. Commitment meant settling down. Settling down meant responsibilities, sacrifice and so much more.
No. He wouldn’t think about that now, not while the red-hot pleasure rose inside him, threatening to make him erupt like Vesuvius at any moment. He turned his focus back where it belonged, on making love to the beautiful woman lying beneath him, and giving her all the pleasure she could stand.
She trembled, and her eyes went wide before rolling back in her head. He knew she was on the brink of another orgasm, so he rotated his hips, increasing the depth and speed of his strokes. He wanted her to shatter, wanted to watch the glow of pleasure spread over her face.
Suddenly she arched. “God, Marco!” Her body stiffened, then a tremor ran through it, and he felt her inner muscles gripping his shaft.
The waves of pleasure hit him then, and he rode them to his own release, his body pressed against hers. His shouts mingled with her moans, until the wonder passed and the room fell into silence again.
A little later, he extracted himself from her body, and moved so they could get into a more comfortable position in the bed. The sun had fully risen by now, and the rays of light penetrated the sheer curtains covering the sliding door that led out to the balcony.
Joi had fallen asleep beneath him, and her soft snores barely broke the silence. As he eased beside her and draped his arm over her form, he was taken aback by the sight of her.
Lying nude in the hazy sunlight, she looked like a goddess. Her bronzed skin glistened with a light sheen of perspiration, and while he looked on, mesmerized, she shifted a bit.
Her eyelids twitched, then she opened her eyes. Sleepily, she asked, “Why are you staring at me?”
Not knowing what else to say, he told her the truth. “Because you’re so beautiful, I can’t look away.”
With a catlike stretch, she offered him a smile. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Marco.”
He tugged at the covers, adjusting things until they could both slip beneath them. When their bodies were cocooned beneath the patterned comforter and white sheets, he lay on his back and drew her into his arms. Her head rested on his chest, and he played his fingertips through the riotous mass of her hair. A feeling of peace and contentment settled over him as he held her close to his heart, and he got a sense that this was where she belonged.
He didn’t know how or when it had happened, but he’d let himself fall in love with her. He knew it with every fiber of his being, and he was surer of it than he’d ever been of anything in his life.
Up until she’d shown up at his office to put in her proposal for the security contract, he’d thought he would spend the rest of his life playing the field. Commitment had never been part of his plans for the future, because he hadn’t wanted to be saddled with the “burden” of being responsible for a wife, let alone children. Now, he’d begun to rethink his entire way of life. Would being a husband, and dare he think it, a father, really be as stifling and confining as he had assumed? Or could the love of a wife and family open the door to his heart, and to a level of happiness he’d never thought possible before?
Somehow, this petite powerhouse, mouthy, tough and wonderful, had come into his life and turned everything upside down. He’d thought he’d known who she was when she stepped into his office that day, but he could not have been more wrong. Only this time, he was actually glad to have been mistaken, and even happier that she’d stayed around long enough to show him how stupid he’d been to misjudge her.
He opened his mouth, set to tell her that she’d stolen his heart, and that he couldn’t live without her. But before he could form the words, he heard her snores rising again. She’d gone back to sleep, and after what they’d shared, he didn’t want to deny her the rest.
So he snuggled down into the soft feather pillow, and held her close, his body sheltering her as she slept.
Chapter 17
Joi yawned and opened her eyes, squinting against the bright sunlight. Unraveling the cocoon of blankets around her, she rolled from her side to her back. Her freedom of movement revealed the empty spot in the bed next to her. She sat up, rubbed her eyes and looked around the room. Marco was nowhere in sight but the closed bathroom door made her think he must be in there.
Sure enough, the sounds of running water emitted from behind the door. She reached up with both hands, attempting to tame her wild hair before he made an appearance.
The bathroom door swung open, and Marco stepped out with the white hotel towel wrapped around his waist. Her eyes traveled over the hard, muscled lines of his chest and arms appreciatively. She could easily recall the feel of his body against hers, and as he strode toward where she sat on the bed, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
Self-satisfied smile on his face, he said, “Good morning, sleepyhead.”
“Good morning, yourself.” She drew the crisp white sheets up around her body to fend off the chill in the room. “What time is it?”
“It’s about one thirty.” He sat on the edge of the bed, leaned over to give her a soft kiss on the cheek. “Good thing we had the day off today.”
She didn’t bother to tell him that his lovemaking had caused her exhaustion. Based on his expression, he already knew. Not only did he know, but he seemed quite pleased with himself. Looking at him now, she knew things had changed between them. Last night they’d both been swept up in the waves of passion, but in the clear light of day, the truth of her feelings for him was bound to surface. She had no indication he shared her feelings, but she knew she would only be able to hold them back for so long.
Her stomach growled loudly, so she set aside her complex emotions for the moment. She leaned to her right, stretching her arm until she could reach the room service menu on the nightstand. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”
He chuckled. “After what we did last night, it’s understandable. And yes, I could eat, too.” He eased closer to her, draping his arms casually around her waist.
Choosing what to eat proved difficult, not because there were so many choices, but because he insisted on nuzzling her neck. The prickly sensation of his chin, moving against the crook of her shoulder, was enough to ruin her concentration.
He must have sensed a struggle, because he gave her a bit of space, but left his arm around her. Finally able to make a decision, she reached for the phone. “Do you want anything?”
He scratched his chin. “Just get me the grand breakfast.”
Her eyes widened when she realized he’d ordered the largest meal possible, but as far as she and her body were concerned he’d earned it. Removing the handset from the cradle, she dialed the extension for room service and placed their order. When she hung up, she found him watching her with heated eyes.
She pursed her lips. “Marco, room service will be here within half an hour.”
He drew her closer to him, a wicked smile spreading across his face. “More than enough time to make you moan, Dulce.”
She wanted to protest, but could only sigh as he drew down the sheet and took one of her nipples into his mouth. With skill, he proved his words true. By the time room service knocked on the door, he had indeed made her moan.
Since she was still recovering from her orgasm, he answered the door. A few moments later, he wheeled a small cart into the center of the road. The cart was laden with trays and plates filled with their breakfast offerings. Getting her bearings again, she stood and retreated to
the bathroom to take care of her own needs. In a few moments, she’d washed up and slipped into a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt.
He flipped on the TV, and they ate their breakfast in convivial silence. Her plate of fluffy scrambled eggs, wheat toast and turkey sausage sated her appetite. Watching Marco chow down on a towering stack of pancakes, along with sausage, eggs and fruit, she wondered where on his trim frame he stored that much food.
After they ate and returned their dishes to the cart, she slid open the door leading to the small balcony. Stepping out, she drew a deep breath of the fresh air, which held the scent of the water. She placed both hands on the railing and enjoyed the feel of the breeze lifting her hair. With her eyes closed, she let the sunlight warm her face.
She sensed his approach moments later. His arms slid around her waist as his chest came into contact with her back. He remained bare from the waist up, but the towel he’d been wearing was gone, replaced by his trousers. She leaned into him and let his steady strength support her. In her day-to-day life, she was seen as tough, hard and capable. But in his arms, she felt soft, feminine and vulnerable. He had a certain quality that made her feel balanced and safe.
“My Dulce...” He muttered the endearment into the crown of her hair.
Her heart pounded in her chest like a mallet striking a timpani. More than anything, she wanted to tell him how she felt. She needed him to know that she loved him.
She turned in the circle of his arms, prepared to bare her soul to him.
The look in his eyes stopped her, made her snatch back the words before she had a chance to say them.
She knew that look. Ever since she’d started dating as a teen, she’d seen men wear that look.
Its meaning was clear. Guilt.
She drew a deep breath, inhaling the moist air and the masculine scent that always clung to him. “God, Marco. What is it?”
He hesitated, as if struggling to choose his words. When he finally did speak, he was brief, but the words held an almost crushing weight. “Forgive me.”
Fear mixed with curiosity rose within her. Hesitantly, she asked, “Forgive you for what?”
He dropped his gaze, let his arms fall away from their position on her hips. “I judged you so harshly for walking away from Ernesto.”
A small amount of relief began to bloom within her, but the bloom was immediately clipped by his next statement.
“In reality, you were right to walk away, and I knew all along. I should have been praising you for following your instincts, not calling you disloyal.”
Her brows came together, anger and confusion warring for supremacy inside her. “Marco, stop speaking in riddles. Say what you mean.”
A low, rumbling sound came from his throat. Then he swung his gaze back up to meet hers. “Ernesto wasn’t in love with you. He needed to marry someone in order to get his hands on his inheritance.”
“What!” She prayed she’d misheard him.
“He told me about it several weeks before he proposed. Look, I didn’t know you back then, and I needed...”
“You son of a bitch!” she shouted at him, then pressed her palms against his chest to put distance between them. As he stumbled back, she stormed past him, reentering her hotel room. She strode immediately to the room’s small closet and dragged out her suitcase.
He was on her heels, but he wisely remained a few feet away from her. “Joi, please. If you’d just let me explain...”
She scoffed, a sound meant to communicate her utter disgust with him. “Explain what? How you’ve been holding a grudge against me all these years for trusting my own heart? How you almost caused me to miss out on the biggest opportunity I could get for my company?” As she spoke, she busied herself tossing her things into the suitcase, because she couldn’t wait to get back to Charlotte.
He dropped his hands to his side, his expression grim. “So, you’re just going to leave? Just like that?”
Unshed tears began to sting her eyes. She leveled him with a hard gaze. “My work is done here. There’s no reason for me to stay. I’ll be in touch with Mr. Perez early next week. As for you—” she pointed to the door “—get dressed, get your crap and get the hell out.”
“I’m so sorry, Dulce.”
How dare he call me that now? The pet name that had seemed so endearing only hours ago now seemed to burn her ears. “Whatever.” To emphasize how done she was with him, she grabbed his shirt from among the twisted bedclothes, bundled it up and threw it at him. All she wanted was for him to leave, right now, before she started blubbering.
He caught the shirt in midair, then sighed, as if resigned to his fate. He said nothing more as he dragged the shirt on and gathered his shoes, wallet and smartphone. With a last glance in her direction, he opened the door and left.
The moment the door slammed shut, tears began to course down her face. In a way, she was relieved that he’d revealed his true, conniving nature before she’d had a chance to say those three words. Unfortunately for her heart, not saying them aloud didn’t change anything. She still loved him, and now she knew they could never be together.
She began packing, moving around the room to gather her strewn items of clothing while the tears blurred her vision. Because if she had her way, she’d be on the very next available flight back to Charlotte.
And when she got home, she’d start the process of restructuring her business, including setting things up so that she’d never have to see Marco Alvarez again.
* * *
Marco stood in the door of his parents’ bedroom, waiting for them to finish getting ready. As he leaned his shoulder against the door frame, careful not to snag the jacket of his black tuxedo, he sighed. The Herreras’ celebratory gala was due to start in less than an hour, and with traffic being what it was, they needed to get on the road soon. At this pace, they were going to be unfashionably late.
He could feel the frown settling over his face, where it had been for the past day and a half since Joi had thrown him out of her hotel room. He missed her fiercely, but considering the fact that he’d been wrong, and that she’d probably toss him off the balcony, he hadn’t attempted to go back again. How could he approach her now and ask her forgiveness, when in reality they both knew he didn’t deserve it?
If he hadn’t already promised Ernesto that he’d attend tonight’s party, he would have shut himself into his own hotel room with a cigar and flask. That would mean ruining two relationships in as many days, so there would be no getting out of his promise. So for now, he braced himself to suffer through what was sure to be a long evening.
His mother, Iveliss, sat at her vanity, fussing over the shimmering length of her gray hair. Dressed in a beautiful and tasteful cream-colored ball gown, she looked amazing and much younger than her sixty-four years. Apparently she intended for every single stray hair, regardless of length, to be contained in the tight bun at her nape.
Cruze, his father, was fully dressed in his tux with his salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed. Still, the old man was pacing the room in only one shoe, searching for his left wingtip.
On any other occasion, watching his parents putter about the house while preparing to go out would tickle him, and he’d probably be laughing at this point. The carefree amusement eluded him this time, though. He knew Joi would probably never speak to him again, and because of that he felt empty and humorless.
His eyes scanning the floor of the room, Marco spotted his father’s missing shoe. The tip of it peeked out from beneath the satin bed skirt on their king-size bed. Meandering over to the spot, Marco picked up the shoe and handed it to his father. “Looking for this?”
Cruze smiled. “There it is. Thank you, son.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, tossed the shoe down and slid his black-sock-covered left foot into it. “Well, I’m ready.”
Marco jerked his head in h
is mother’s direction. “Mom isn’t.”
Cruze stood then, walking over to where his wife sat. He placed his hands gently on her shoulders. “Ivy, you are a vision of loveliness. Don’t do another thing, my love.”
Her cheeks visibly reddened, accompanied by a coy smile. “Cruze, you charmer.” Setting aside her silver-plated hairbrush, she let her husband help her to her feet. Then she stepped into his embrace, placing a soft kiss against his cheek.
Marco’s expression softened as he viewed his parents’ interaction. Both of them were well into their sixties, but their love for each other was blatant and strong. As a younger man, when he’d looked at them together, all he’d seen were the sacrifices they’d made for each other, and to give him a better life. As he’d grown older, though, Marco had observed another side of marriage: the sheer joy of loving someone, and being loved in return. The moment became bittersweet as he wondered if that kind of happiness would ever be his.
“The car’s been waiting outside for a little while, so we can go when you’re ready.” While Marco didn’t begrudge his parents their love, he couldn’t take much more of it for the moment. Especially since he knew he’d be playing the role of third wheel tonight.
The three of them left the bedroom, with Cruze and Iveliss holding hands and walking ahead of Marco. They descended the staircase, and Marco moved around his parents to hold the front door open for them. The balmy night air, thick with the perfume of Iveliss’s prized orchids, greeted them.
Outside at the curb, a black sedan idled, awaiting their approach. The driver, who stood leaning against the trunk, opened the doors for the Alvarez family, and once they were all inside, he got the drive under way.
The sedan was equipped with two bench seats in the rear, which faced each other. Marco sat across from his parents, looking out the back windshield as the vehicle rolled through the streets of Limón.
A Sultry Love Song Page 15
