She followed him across the plaza, biting her tongue so many times she wouldn’t have been surprised to find it swollen. They ambled down a busy side street, stopping at terraces covered in umbrellas, shading the crowded tables below.
A few more blocks, and they found a less crowded cafe, leafy trees providing some relief from the blazing sun. Drea reached for the carafe of water on the table as soon as they sat down, drinking down a full glass before filling Joe’s and refilling her own.
She stared into the water, her fingers sliding on the glass as they drew patterns in the condensation. “About this morning—”
“Yeah. About that.” She glanced up to see his hands flat on the table, an odd glint in his eyes.
Then he leaned over and kissed her.
Chapter Four
He was kissing Drea. Again. And it was fantastic.
Her lips parted and a soft moan rumbled in her throat as he cupped a hand around the back of her head, holding her in place as his tongue stroked inside. Sweet. Sweet and hot and he wanted more. She gave it to him, tilting her head to allow him to delve more deeply.
He had to stop before he lost the point he was trying to make.
She tried to follow him across the table as he broke the kiss, her cheeks flushing when her butt rose from the chair. She sat back down and reached for her water, keeping her gaze trained on the table.
They could do this. This morning didn’t have to be a fluke, or a one-off, and she’d just proven it.
“That was a bad idea,” she said quietly.
He blinked. What. The. Fuck. Oh, no. Not happening. He shifted places so he was sitting beside her. “I don’t think so.”
She snorted. “Dude. You’re my friend. We can’t do this.” Yes, they could. They absolutely could. He trusted Drea. They were in the perfect place for it, a city where no one knew them. Keeping his hands to himself while they’d toured the theater had gotten increasingly difficult as the tour wore on. The thought of having to go an entire week and not touch her was excruciating. He’d been staring at her ass—again—as he’d followed her out onto the plaza, and the perfect solution hit him.
He should have planned on Drea needing more convincing. Spontaneity wasn’t in her DNA.
The kiss he gave her was slow and thorough, and she leaned into him, deepening the kiss. It took all of his self-control not to reach over and pull her onto his lap. Instead, he eased away and stroked a hand over the back of her neck. “Why not? We’ve got a whole week here to get it out of our systems.”
She squinted up at him. “Sort of like, ‘What happens in Buenos Aires stays in Buenos Aires’?”
When she put it that way, it sounded…crass. It wasn’t like that, exactly. He liked her. They had fun together. He knew her. He just wanted to try adding one more facet to their friendship.
He kissed her again, framing her face with his hands. “Drea.” She had the most amazing eyes, and right now they were shadowed with wariness. “We’re both single. Obviously there’s something here neither of us picked up on before, and what better place to uncover it than here? You can’t tell me you don’t want to know what would have happened if we hadn’t stopped this morning.”
She sat back. “What, we’d add a ton of sex to our list of fun things to do and then go back to our old lives once we hit Boston?”
He shrugged, then grinned. “Pretty much. We can do it, D. We’re solid. This is just some itch we need to scratch.”
She froze. “What if it doesn’t go away? What if it’s totally awkward and we can’t hang out like we used to?”
“That’s not gonna happen.” He slipped a hand around the back of her neck, nudging her forward. “Give it a chance, D.”
She studied him, her gaze flicking from his eyes to his mouth and back again. She’d say yes. She had to. This thing, this tension between them wasn’t one-sided. She wouldn’t have kissed him back if she hadn’t felt it, too. They’d proven over the years they could count on one another, and he meant it. They were solid. They could do this and go back to their normal lives at the end of the week.
He held his breath as she lifted a hand. Placed it on his chest.
And shoved him away.
She stood, tears shining in her eyes as she stared down at him. “If you want to get laid, I’m sure there’s got to be a willing woman around here.” She grabbed her purse and hurried off the terrace and onto the sidewalk, racing across the street as he called her name.
Shit.
He shot out of his chair and ran after her. The sidewalk was crowded, and he wove through clumps of people, craning his neck, looking for a small, dark-haired woman. The problem was there were quite a few small, dark-haired women in Buenos Aires, and a lot of them had their hair up, like Drea.
He kept going, catching sight of her at the end of the block. She ran across the street, almost getting hit by a car, and rounded the front of a bus idling at the curb. Stay there. Don’t move.
The light changed, and the traffic stopped, but the bus pulled away anyway, blowing the red light. Awesome. Now he’d managed to hurt one of his closest friends and he had no idea where she was going.
This is what he got for thinking with his dick instead of his brain. He yanked out his phone and shot off a text to her, then stared at the bus, growing smaller and smaller as it got farther away.
Swiping angrily at her tears, she fumbled through her purse until she located a napkin, and she used it to mop up the damp, then blew her nose. She was being such a girl. She pulled out her compact to repair the damage to her makeup, then stared out the window at the passing neighborhoods, ignoring the melodic chime signaling an incoming text message.
Sleep with Joe. Have sex with Joe. Get screwed six ways to Sunday by Joe. A week of sex to go with their week of sun, and then they’d go about their regularly scheduled lives once they touched down in Boston.
Their relationship was, as he put it, solid. The last year or two had hit them both with significant personal blows, and instead of pushing them apart, it had brought them closer. And that mouth, God, that mouth. If the rest of the business was as hot as his kisses, it could be worth it.
She enjoyed sex. A lot. She missed it. She missed everything that went with it, too. The cuddling, the laughter, the joy of discovering new things about your partner. The sleepy mornings, the quiet sighs. The late nights spent wrapped around each other, reveling in touch.
But what made it so good was the buildup. All the exploration, like a slow, slow strip tease, and that couldn’t be accomplished in a week. Sex meant too much to her. So did Joe. No, no matter how much his kisses had seeped into her blood, she couldn’t take the risk of finding out what the more would feel like.
Sighing, she perked up at the sight of the brightly colored buildings lining the street. Unless she was mistaken, she’d lucked out and gotten on a bus to La Boca. The neighborhood had been a must on her list of places to see while they were here. She’d hoped to drag Joe here. Since he was being a dick, well, she’d see it by herself.
First, though, she needed food.
The bus left a cloud of diesel fumes in its wake as it pulled away. She wrinkled her nose at the stench. Wandering down the sidewalk, she spotted a restaurant and headed over. The terrace was completely shaded and mostly empty, and she plopped into a chair. She flagged down what she thought was a server. “Agua sin gas, por favor.”
The small man grinned, his dramatically arched eyebrows waggling. “Baby, your accent is terrible.” His, on the other hand, was fluid. “You need wine.”
Glad his English was better than her Spanish, she smiled back. “Need food, too.”
“One menu, coming up.” He disappeared into the dimness of the restaurant, and she turned to study the street. Her phone dinged for a third time.
Her new friend came back bearing a menu, water, and a glass of wine as her phone started to ring in the depths of her purse. She ignored it and stood, taking the menu from him as he set the glasses on the table. “Any
recommendations?”
“Everything, baby. Everything is delicious.”
Everything probably wasn’t delicious, but she nodded and ordered a shredded pork sandwich. She picked up her wine as he left to put in her order, and then her phone dinged. Again. Growling, she dug it out of her purse. Five text messages, one missed call, and a voice mail. She opened the latest text.
At least let me know you’re okay.
Guilt blanketed her, a greasy, noxious black. Running off in a strange city alone was a less than smart move. Running off in a strange city alone and then not answering her phone put her squarely in the idiot category. On the plus side, knowing he was worried boosted her spirits.
She shot off a quick response, letting him know she was fine. The phone rang almost immediately. She sent it to voice mail. The cheerful ding had her tossing the phone back in her purse with more force than necessary.
“Ah ah, no scowling allowed.” A plate appeared in front of her, and to her surprise, the server pulled out a chair and sat, a glass of water in his hand. “Is it your first time in Buenos Aires?”
“Yeah. First day.” She bit into the sandwich. It was as delicious as the man had claimed. She chewed slowly, enjoying the hint of sweetness buried under the smoky tang of the meat.
“It makes you frown. Obviously you are not seeing the right things. Good thing you came here.” He flashed a grin and hitched up a pant leg as he crossed one leg over his opposite knee. “What have you seen of my lovely city?”
Between bites of sandwich and sips of wine, she told the stranger about her morning at the cemetery and the theater tour, smiling at his exclamations over the productions the opera company put on. The black cloud hanging over her broke apart the longer she sat there, and she didn’t protest when he jumped up and came back with more wine.
When her phone dinged for the fifth time since she’d sat down, her drinking companion glanced at her bag and raised a brow. “You are quite the popular young lady.”
She should have shut the damn thing off. “Nah. Friend of mine’s being a dick, so I’m avoiding him.” She did not just say that to a complete stranger. She eyed the level of wine in her glass. Then she knocked back the rest and poured herself more water.
“Men. Isn’t there some old saying? ‘Can’t live with them, can’t live without them?’” He sighed dramatically, and she giggled. “Baby, here’s what you do: you go buy yourself a dress. Some new shoes. Get all dolled up, and you take this friend out. Make him treat you to dinner and a show.”
Amused, she sat back. “Where would we find this show?”
He stood and waved his hand at the restaurant with a flourish. “Here, baby! Best drag show in the city. Any man who sits through a show full of queens prancing around onstage deserves to be forgiven.” He bent down and kissed her cheeks. “Go. Primp. Come back and show me how gorgeous you are.”
Shopping sounded like a better use of her time than getting drunk on wine. “What time does the show start?” She gathered her purse, wincing as the chair scraped over cement.
“The fabulousness starts at, oh…ten. Ten o’clock in the evening. Before, you have dinner. Here. You liked the sandwich, yes? Dinner is even better.”
In a much-improved mood, she got directions to get back to the hotel and headed for the bus stop. Her phone had stopped dinging, and she pulled it out, steeling herself for the barrage of text messages.
They were all varying degrees of desperate. It would have been wiser to stay and try and put her feelings into words. But it hurt, how careless he’d acted, like all the years and conversations meant nothing. How he’d leaned on her when he’d made the decision to breakup with Tess. How he’d been there when the vet came by to put Delia to sleep. She couldn’t push all that aside in pursuit of some fleeting feeling, no matter how good it felt.
Unless…
Just the memory of his mouth had her blood heating. She had needs, like everyone else, and the longer she ignored them, the stronger they’d get.
Joe had always treated her like a person, not a lust object. He already respected her, liked her. There wasn’t any logical reason that would change if they slept together. Maybe he was right. Maybe they needed to get this out of their systems. She opened the last text message.
Please come back so we can talk.
Chapter Five
He managed to keep himself from jumping up the second she set foot in the room, carrying a couple of shopping bags. He did, however, turn off the TV and toss the remote onto the bed. “Have a good afternoon?”
The bags hit the floor as she sat on the edge of the bed, her gaze focused on the bedspread. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. His stomach twisted at how small her voice sounded. But there was fire in her eyes when she met his gaze. “You bulldozed right over my feelings.”
“So tell me about them instead of running off.” Okay, maybe his temper hadn’t quite cooled. But she hadn’t answered her phone the entire afternoon, and then she’d waltzed in bearing shopping bags, and he’d been worried. Really worried.
She dropped her head again, hands twisted together in her lap. When she spoke, her voice was low enough he had to inch forward to hear her. “You might think our friendship can survive some nookie. I’m not so sure. And what I heard this afternoon when you glossed over my concerns was our friendship doesn’t mean as much to you as it does to me. It hurt. You’re willing to take a chance on something that could be supremely awkward if it doesn’t work out.”
“D.” He scooted to the end of the bed. “Drea, look at me.”
She shook her head, her hand trembling as she lifted it to her face.
Was she crying? She never cried. The last time, hell, the only time he remembered her crying was when Delia had to be put down. She’d managed to hold it together until the vet left, and then she’d fallen to pieces.
Ignoring the slaps to his chest, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “Stop it,” he muttered when she continued to struggle. She finally did, and he rested his cheek on the top of her head.
This was what happened when he thought with his dick. Something he thought he’d outgrown by the time he’d graduated from college. Apparently it was possible to relapse.
“It’s not that I don’t value our friendship,” he began, speaking slowly as he chose his words. “It’s more like I never realized how cute you are.” And when he wasn’t thinking of some way to find her, he was thinking about how this could work. He wanted her and he wanted to keep their friendship intact. The question was how.
She snorted, and he allowed a trickle of relief through. “Cute? Cute’s something you reserve for small children and animals.” She sighed. “That’s kind of not the point, though, is it?”
He eased back. “What is?” Tears wobbled in her eyes, and one spilled over. He wiped it away with his thumb.
“You put it out there. The sleeping-together thing. So even if we don’t do it, if we agree it wouldn’t be a good idea, it’d still be there, stuck in between us. Because after that kiss at the café, we can’t exactly ignore that we’re attracted to each other.”
She had a point. He’d considered telling her to forget he’d ever said anything, and then the memory of how she’d kissed him back before she’d freaked out and run off would taunt him. There had to be some way to do this, because he wanted more. He wanted it all. Wanted to know what she tasted like all over, wanted to run his hands over her curves. It was overriding the part of him whispering she might walk out of his life forever if he screwed this up. God knew he could screw up. Tess had taught him that.
She scrubbed her hands over her cheeks, ridding her skin of the last of her tears. And he discovered something else he didn’t know before: he never wanted to make her cry again. It made him feel like shit.
No sex for them. And if he could go back in time, he’d erase ever bringing up the subject if it meant keeping her tears away.
He got up and wandered over to the windows, running a hand through his
hair. “So what are we going to do about it?”
“Screw each other silly, of course.”
The world tilted, spun, and flipped upside down and backwards. Turning slowly, he tried to close his mouth and found he couldn’t. After all that talk of hurt feelings and uncertainty, she thought the solution was to fuck? “Are you drunk?”
Her eyes were bright with nerves. “Think of it this way. We have sex, there’s always a chance things will go back to normal and it won’t be awkward. As you said, it’s something we need to explore. We don’t, things might go back to normal after a while, but for the time being we have to deal with the awkwardness. I’d rather put that off, thank you very much.”
“You’re not making a lot of sense.”
“Trust me, it makes more sense in my head. I wouldn’t protest too loudly, if I were you. You’re getting what you want.”
The flat statement snapped him out of his daze, and he crossed the room in two strides. “Don’t. Just don’t.” He clamped his hands on her upper arms and yanked her off the bed. “If you don’t want to do this, we won’t. And I’m going to put you doing this because you think it’s what I want in the category of ‘you don’t want to do this.’”
She shook off his hold, placed her hands on his shoulders, and bounced up, winding her legs around his waist as she assaulted his mouth. His hands splayed across the full curves of her ass as he met heat with heat.
She tasted so damn good. Hot and tart and a little spicy. Her skin smelled of sun and sweat and coconut, and under it the faint, cool notes of her perfume. He wanted her under him. Over him. He needed to take everything from her and give it back, bigger and deeper and better than before. Something bubbled under the surface, something besides desire and chemistry and pleasure. An intangible want he needed to uncover.
They were both panting as they broke for air. “Trust me,” she rasped. “I want this. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.” She threaded her fingers through his hair. “Promise me one thing.”
One Night in Buenos Aires Page 3
