One Night in Buenos Aires

by Amanda K. Byrne

  “Joe. Please.”

  “Nope.” He kept it up the entire ride to the hotel, never allowing her to sink in, the random kisses and brush of fingers pushing her to an edge and holding her there. The cab jerked to a halt at the curb, and she stood on legs made shaky by anxiety and lust.

  She stumbled alongside him as he guided her through the lobby and into an elevator. When he skimmed his hands over her torso, she pressed against him, winding her arms around his neck for balance. His fingers danced up along her hips, tracing the curve.

  And dug into her waist.

  Her shriek of surprise bounced off the walls of the elevator, dissolving into helpless giggles as she struggled to free herself from his tormenting fingers. “Stop, stop, stop, stop! Uncle!”

  The tickles ceased, and she gulped down air, swiping her fingers over her cheeks to catch the wayward tears. His green eyes gleamed with mischief, and he leered at her. “Come back here. I wasn’t done with you.”

  The doors slid open as he dove for her. Ducking under his arm, she headed for their room, moving as quickly as her stilettos would allow. He had no problem catching up to her, and he grabbed her and swung her over his shoulder, palming her butt.

  Not the most romantic of moves, not by a long shot. But his display of strength had her lust surging anew. She yanked up the back of his shirt and raked her nails over his skin. His hand on her ass clenched. “No, definitely not done with you.”

  He covered the remaining distance to their room in a few strides, and they were inside and staring at each other in under a minute.

  He looked so…predatory. Loose yet tense and daunting, and she was going to sleep with him. Make love with him.

  Her heart stuttered and stopped. They were alone, it was mostly dark, and she was wide awake. So was he. She’d taunted him all evening, letting his hand do almost naughty things in the restaurant, mauling him in the cab. Doing everything she could without saying the words to tell him to take her already.

  Why was he just standing there? Was it her move? It had to be. He was willing to wait until she was ready, and she needed to show him she was. She would have to seduce him and hope he’d follow along.

  Forcing the nerves down and gathering her courage, she closed the distance between them and reached for the top button on his shirt. Her fingers trembled as she popped the first one free, then the next. By the time she’d undone the last button the trembles had ceased. Placing her hands on his chest, she slid them up to his shoulders and pushed the shirt away.

  Oh. Yum. Yes.

  He shuddered when she opened her mouth against his chest, tasting him, trailing kisses over flesh growing warmer and warmer under her lips. His hand fisted in her hair as she licked along his collarbone, hissing as she nipped the thin skin.

  An odd sense of calm and rightness stole over her. They’d never done this before. Not together, but they knew how. They’d learn each other tonight and the next night and the night after that. Plenty of time, he’d said.

  But now, it was time for the next step.

  She took a step back, her gaze locking with his. Her fingers located the small zipper under her left arm and tugged. It parted tooth by tooth, and when she could go no further she flicked the wide straps from her shoulders. Wriggled. The gray silk flowed like water, catching at her breasts, again at her hips.

  If it was possible to spontaneously combust from a single look, she’d be ash.

  The edge of the bed hit her thighs as she backed up, her gaze never leaving his. Hot. Amazed. Possessive and stunned. An attack of nerves had her breaking the connection and reaching for the strap of her shoe.

  “Leave them.” His hand closed over hers and drew it away. “Do you have any idea how fucking sexy those shoes are?”

  She smirked. “Of course I do. That’s why I bought them.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Why you little minx—” He picked her up and tossed her farther up the bed, pouncing on her. “You did it on purpose.”

  She arched under him, humming as he cupped her breast. “Glad you noticed.”

  “Baby, you could have been wearing army fatigues and I still would have wanted you. In fact,” and he dipped his head, licking a line along her throat, “I’d like to see you in the baggiest clothes you own so I can pull them off you. Uncover you.”

  “Joe. Kiss me.” Please, please kiss me.

  He did, taking his time exploring her mouth, coaxing out her sighs, swallowing her whimpers. His clever tongue distracted her as he slipped a hand under her, stroking up her back and fumbling with the hooks of her bra. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he muttered.

  She didn’t try to stop the giggles. Pushing at him, she sat up. “Need some help?” Her arms twisted behind her and the hooks came undone.

  He scowled as he drew the bra aside. “I would have gotten it. Eventually.” Gripping her waist, he flipped them over. “Perfect,” he whispered, staring at her breasts.

  “You’re a guy. All breasts are perfect.” If he didn’t touch her soon, she was going to start screaming.

  “Not like yours.” He lifted his head and sealed his lips around a nipple, using his hand to plump her breast.

  Heat spread through her chest, down through her belly, pooling between her legs. A groan rumbled in her chest as he sucked, drawing on her tender flesh until it hardened. Then he replaced his mouth with his fingers as he moved to her other breast, her body bowing under the jolts of pleasure shooting through her body. It made her wonder what his hands and mouth could do on other parts of her body.

  Her breath coming in pants, he was reducing her to a wriggling, writhing mess on top of him. Frustrated whimpers escaped her, and she didn’t know what to do with her hands. She wanted them everywhere, but she didn’t know where to start.

  “What do you need?” he whispered.

  You. “I need…need…” Words fled. There was only his skin against hers, his mouth finding all the secret places that shot fire through her. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” she growled. Scooting back to his thighs, she yanked at the fly of his trousers.

  His hips came up as her hands grappled with the waistband. “Careful. I’m going to need that soon. Pretty sure you do, too.” She did. She did now, needed him inside her like nothing she’d ever felt before. She slithered up his body, delighting in his moan as their hips made contact. She could feel him better now, the hard, delicious length of him rubbing her clit through the barrier of his boxers and her panties.

  Not. Quite. Enough.

  Frustrated, she rolled off him and pulled at her underwear. She was beyond asking for what she wanted. She was rapidly disintegrating into a frantic, pleasure-chasing hedonist.

  None of her previous partners had ever caused this crazy-stupid rush of desire and heat in her veins. She’d never felt the need to simply grab his hand and stick it between her legs. Never thought she’d beg to be touched.

  He propped himself up on his elbow, his free hand drifting along her skin. “Antsy?” She growled when he grinned at her. “C’mere.” He shifted her onto her side, facing him, and his hand resumed its stroking, teasing journey. Lower, over her belly, tickling gently, her hips bucking as she tried to draw him in. Feathering along the top of her thigh, easing closer to where she needed him most.

  They both stilled at the first touch, his finger barely brushing her clit. “Christ.” He leaned in to kiss her as his hand moved again, the strokes firm, his fingers slicked with her need. Her hips rocked back and forth in synchronicity with his hand. Tension strung out, tight, tighter, tighter, and she was ready to tumble over any…second…

  He swore and tore his hand away, climbing off the bed and stripping off his boxers. Locating the box of condoms, he ripped the box open, tore open one of the foil packets, and smoothed the contents over his length.

  Dammit. The perfect chance to get her hands on him, around him, and she’d missed it.

  She shifted to her back and he knelt between her legs. “Sorry,” he panted. “If I don’t
get inside you soon, I’ll end up embarrassing myself.”

  He pushed inside, slow enough to make her moan. He felt incredible. Amazing. And she’d been right; he looked good, braced above her. There was no way this was a mistake. It felt too good to be a mistake.

  He dropped his head to her shoulder. “God. I’m going to apologize ahead of time.”

  She wanted to beat her fists on his back. “For what?” Don’t you dare pull out.

  “This isn’t going to last long.” He drew back, plunged forward, sweat popping out on his brow as he struggled to hold back. Her orgasm gathered strength with every thrust of his hips. His mouth came down, plundering, taking, demanding. One hand gripped her hip, the other reached for hers and guided it between their bodies.

  Her eyes widened as she realized what he wanted her to do. Their fingers slipped and slid in small circles as pleasure spiked. His groan emboldened her, his hips slamming into hers. “Close?”

  So close. She moaned. Any…second…

  There.

  It was a slow-moving fire, spreading from her core, flaring and picking up speed. It scorched her vocal chords and robbed her of the scream building in her chest. “Beautiful,” he rasped. His thrusts became erratic and his eyes went wild and glazed, his body going taut above her.

  Her heart thudded as she gasped for breath, cradling him to her. Wow. There were fireworks. Lots and lots of fireworks. Pretty damn good for a first time.

  “Not sure I can move,” he mumbled. “Do I still have legs? Can’t feel them. Got no bones.”

  She stroked her hands over his back. “You’ll have to move sometime.” Just not yet.

  He lifted his head and brushed a kiss over her mouth. Her heart stuttered in response. She pushed it aside. This was about enjoying herself, and she had. Immensely. She couldn’t wait to do it again.

  He grunted as he levered himself up and off the bed. Splayed out, sweat drying on her skin, she shut her eyes and drifted.

  “No falling asleep on me.” She jolted as the mattress dipped beside her. “Cute. You left your shoes on.” He pulled them off, tossing them over his shoulder before stretching out beside her. He nuzzled the sensitive skin under her ear. “I’m not done with you.” His skin was sticky in places as she curled up against him. But his warmth felt too good for her to care about how dirty they were getting.

  “Mmm. And what do you plan to do with me?”

  His grin was wicked. “Why don’t I show you?”

  Chapter Eight

  Skin. Skin uncovered, skin unimpeded by clothing. It was warm and smooth under his hands. Dream girl. She smelled of sweat and sex and a cool hint of floral, a lingering trace of perfume.

  His mouth ran routes it had mapped the night before and learned new ones. Followed the murmurs and sighs. The lushness of her mouth made him groan. Part of him knew he wasn’t dreaming anymore, that it was Drea beside him, Drea he was kissing, Drea who moved against him with increasing eagerness.

  Her hands roamed and found new places to touch. And when her slim fingers closed around his cock and squeezed, he pushed her onto her back.

  He groped around the nightstand, trying to find a condom without losing contact with her. The little foil packet was in his hand for a second before it was gone again, Drea nipping it from his fingers. There was a gleam of wickedness in her eyes. He sucked in a breath.

  Fuck. The woman knew how to use her hands. And having her put that condom on was about the sexiest thing ever, because it meant they were seconds away from fucking. Again. “Drea. God, baby, stop teasing.”

  She licked a line up the side of his throat. “Fine,” she whispered, and the husky sound broke his control. He lifted her hips and thrust into her, halting when he was buried to the root. Too fast, too hard. She felt too damn good, and she deserved more than a fast, brutal screw. Burying his face in her hair, they took each other slowly and he felt every flutter, every spasm and tremble, as though his skin was hypersensitive.

  After, he scooped her up and carried her into the bathroom. Under the warm water, they teased each other mercilessly. She was amazing. All sinful, rounded curves and smooth skin, so responsive, so generous. He pinned her to the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist, her cries echoing off the wet tile, driving him on, driving her up.

  If he’d known sex in the shower with her could be that good, he would have tried it earlier.

  He was all for going back to bed, but she headed for her suitcase and pulled on a dress. It was a lot like the one she’d worn yesterday, skimming over her body, the skirt swirling around her legs. He could have stripped it off her in no time, and he moved toward her. She ducked him and disappeared into the bathroom.

  So much for that idea.

  He’d finished dressing and was sitting on the bed when she came out, hair pinned up like usual. The grin he gave her faded as she refused to meet his gaze. What the hell? Everything had been fine ten minutes ago. Was she pissed? Uncomfortable? Going by the tight lines around her mouth and her white-knuckled fists gripping the skirt of her dress, he’d say uncomfortable. He’d already seen her naked. Licked her all over. It was a little late to be feeling uncomfortable.

  She perched on the edge next to him. “Um. I thought we could go to the Plaza de Mayo today. It’s Thursday. Supposedly the Madres still march on Thursdays.” She peeked at him through her lashes. “Is that okay?”

  At first he wasn’t sure what she was saying. Marches on Thursday? Madres? He was pretty sure madre meant mother. Mother. Mothers of the Disappeared. The movement cum political party. They’d fought the government for years, uncovering the extent of the killings in Argentina’s Dirty War.

  She’d asked him before they left if there was anything he wanted to see or do, and he’d said no. Having a paid vacation someplace sunny and hot was good enough for him. But that was Drea for you. She’d probably spent countless hours surfing the internet and pouring over guidebook pages, trying to find at least one thing he’d like.

  She dropped her gaze, fingers twisting around themselves. “Or not. I mean, there’s plenty of other stuff we can see.” She stood and retrieved her tube of sunscreen and began smearing it on. “We can try and get tickets to a soccer match or something.”

  She disliked most sports almost as much as she disliked history. “Sure?” The faint scent of coconut drifted under his nose. “You’ll be bored, though.”

  “It’s not like we have to spend our entire vacation only seeing the things I want to see. Where’s the fun in that, especially for you? Here,” she said, tossing him the sunscreen. “Do my back?”

  Her shoulders were stiff under his hands and wouldn’t budge as he rubbed the lotion into her skin. She bounced up once he was done and grabbed her purse. “Ready? I need food.”

  He followed her from the room and down the hall to the elevator. It wasn’t until he went to take her hand that the niggle of weirdness in his gut bloomed. She kept her arms tucked close to her body, both hands clenched around the strap of her purse. The glances she’d cast his way as the elevator descended were more covert, like she was afraid she’d get caught looking.

  By the time she strode out of the elevator ahead of him and edged away as they walked through the lobby, he figured something was wrong. She wasn’t mad. He’d seen her in full temper, and it wasn’t pretty. She also wasn’t one to stew in silence, not when it was so much easier to voice her feelings at top volume. He felt pretty safe in crossing I’ve screwed up off the list of possibilities. Unfortunately, it was the only possibility he could think of.

  Stifling a sigh, he flipped through the events of last night and this morning. They’d had several rounds of great sex the night before. They’d fallen asleep. They’d woken up and had more sex. They’d gotten dressed, and now they were making their way to the same place they’d eaten breakfast at yesterday.

  It couldn’t be the sex. She’d been right there with him every time. She’d been the one to tease him this morning.

  He could continue to
work it out in his head and give himself a headache for his troubles. He could ask her what was making her jumpy. Or, better, he could ignore it. Let her stew over whatever it was until she either got over it or told him about it. He liked that idea. He’d do that. The not-saying-anything-and-pretending-everything-was-normal idea.

  Feeling much more cheerful, he opened the door to the café and ushered her inside. “Go grab us a table. You want a muffin or something?” Normal. Everything was fine.

  The look she gave him said she wasn’t as convinced as he was. “Um. Yeah. And coffee.” Hands clutching her purse like a lifeline, she wandered off through the tables.

  Breakfast was strained, though he tried not to show his frustration. His attempts to keep the conversation flowing sputtered out time and again, and his teasing fell flat. Giving up, he remained silent as he ate the rest of his breakfast, the food turning to ash on his tongue.

  The mood between them was almost sullen as they left the café. She turned to him. “The march starts in another hour. Did you want to go?”

  “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.” He’d give her the march to work out whatever insanity was going on in her head. After that, all bets were off.

  God, he hoped she’d snap out of it. Talking about feelings wasn’t something he was great at, if his ex was to be believed.

  The plaza wasn’t as crowded as he’d thought it would be. They found spots along the side with a decent view of the Casa Rosada and settled in to wait. Still silent. Still not touching. He reached for her hand and she actually twisted away.

  “Fuck this,” he muttered. “D—”

  A commotion at the other end of the plaza drowned out his words. He strained forward to see what was going on. The Mothers had gathered at the end, white headscarves in place. A large banner spread across the front of the group. No noisemakers. Just a gathering of women prepared to march onto the plaza.

  Just a gathering of women he had no interest in seeing, not when he kept torturing himself, trying to get the woman standing next to him to talk.