Back on the dance floor, I notice the guy dancing with Anita. Where did this piece of candy come from?
“Impressive, right?” says Marta when she sees where my eyes are going.
I nod, amazed by this incredibly sensual, dark man.
“We’ve decided to call him Mr. Perfect Torso.”
“I’ll say,” I murmur.
“His name is Máximo,” Marta whispers back.
“Who is he?”
“A friend of Reinaldo’s.”
“Is he Cuban?”
“No, Argentinian, and he’s to die for, right?”
“I’ll let you know.”
But it’s obvious that denying it would be one of the biggest lies ever told.
We’re just kind of stunned, watching Anita dance salsa with this Argentine, when I feel Eric by my side.
“Your drink, Jude.”
When I take the drink, I realize he’s overheard the conversation, and he’s not happy.
Oh, my baby, he gets so jealous.
I smile. He doesn’t smile back.
I kiss him.
“I only like you.”
“And Máximo,” he says.
In the end, after I just keep kissing him, I manage to get him to smile and kiss me back. As we all chat, I realize Dexter and Eric communicate with a look whenever a woman they find attractive goes by. I laugh. I can’t get mad. I have eyes too.
I begin to move slowly and gently to the beat of the music and watch as my husband scans me with his blue eyes. He likes the very short dress I’m wearing; he bought it for me on our honeymoon, and I know it tempts him.
“C’mon,” I say, “let’s dance.”
He arches his brow and shakes his head.
The only thing missing is him saying “No way!”
We’re back in Germany, and all the easy ways from our honeymoon seem to have vanished. I’m sorry about that. I like uninhibited Eric very much.
He looks at me with a serious expression.
“You go dance,” he says when he realizes I won’t stop moving.
I want to dance and sing along to the song by Orishas that’s playing, so I go out to the dance floor with my friends. We move languidly and seductively. The music invades our bodies as we dance along.
The dance floor is jammed. We’re all dancing and singing along at full volume. Eric won’t take his eyes off me.
My friend Reinaldo comes over.
He sees Eric and goes to say hi. My guy introduces him to Dexter and Graciela and points me out to him. Grinning that giant Cuban grin, Reinaldo comes running out to the dance floor, takes me by the waist, and begins to dance to the hot little song.
I watch Eric and realize he doesn’t like this at all. I quickly get loose, and everyone starts jumping up and down as we sing.
The entire place is dancing, drunk with the song, and, when it’s over, the DJ changes the beat. I go back with my husband. I’m thirsty and take a long swallow of my mojito.
“You won’t dance, my love?”
Eric just stares at me as I sweat, and he pulls a stray hair off my face.
“Since when do I like to dance?”
His response is provocative, but since I don’t want to argue and I don’t want to remind him that during our honeymoon he danced all he wanted and more, I let it go and wrap my arms around his neck.
“OK. Then kiss me. You like doing that, right?”
He finally smiles!
He kisses and kisses me, but then Marta pulls on my arm and drags me to the dance floor, and we dance to “Bemba Colorá.”
Eric’s face darkens again. It’s becoming very clear he doesn’t like Guantanamera at all.
I wave Graciela over to join us. She doesn’t hesitate and comes out shaking her hips. Dexter and Eric look at each other and both sigh.
Those two!
Reinaldo, Anita, Arthur, a couple of other Cuban friends, and Mr. Perfect Torso quickly join us.
Mother of God, up close the Argentinian is even hotter.
Since I’ve been to this club before, I know how to dance here. We make a little circle, and each couple takes a turn in the middle, showing off their dance moves. Marta and I gyrate like a couple of crazy women and shout, “Azúcar!”
I go back to Eric’s side the minute the song is over.
“Is it going to be like this all night?” Eric asks, clearly irritated.
I notice Dexter is saying something to Graciela, and she rolls her eyes. I take a long swallow of my delicious mojito and gaze back at my non-Latino lover.
“Don’t you like to have a good time and enjoy yourself out with our friends?”
Eric—or, I should say, Iceman—looks all around the club. “No, not at all,” he says with his brutal honesty. “But you do?”
I finish my mojito. “You know the answer to that, my love,” I say.
His nostrils flare.
“You get me going like a Ducati when you get so possessive,” I whisper.
I rub up against him. Even in heels, I only come up to his nose. Eric doesn’t move. He just looks at me, and so I begin to move my body to the beat of the music. I notice his erection and kiss him.
“You want to go home?”
He nods enthusiastically, and I chuckle.
When we get home, it’s two fifteen in the morning. After we say good night to Dexter and Graciela, we go to our room. Eric is still scowling.
“Listen, my love,” I start to say, but I’m a little bit worse for the wear because of the mojitos, and I can’t finish.
My Iceman grabs me by the arms, and, with a passion that leaves me speechless, he kisses me and devours me. He pushes me against the wall and tears my panties off.
“I don’t like it when you dance with other people,” he says as he unbuttons his pants.
He hammers me against the wall with a single thrust.
“I don’t want you to go back to that place, do you understand?”
His lust drives me crazy, but I’m no fool. I hold on to his shoulders. “My friends go there,” I say without losing it. “I don’t see a problem.”
Eric’s face turns dark again. He grabs me by the hips and pulls me against him until I moan. I love how deep he goes.
“I don’t like that place,” he hisses.
I kiss him. “But I do,” I say as I pull my lips back from his. “I have a good time, and it’s harmless fun.”
“It hurts me,” he says, impaling me again.
I need air, but I like our hot little game, and I want more.
“No, my love, I would never hurt you.” He penetrates me again.
“There are too many men staring at you,” Eric says as he pants.
“But I’m yours, only yours.”
His mouth takes mine again. His hands descend to my ass. He holds me tight and pushes into me again. He’s tireless. I open for him. I’m thrilled by his possessiveness. So much passion, and soon my body can’t take any more, and I squeeze against him and release all this intense and addictive pleasure.
When he realizes what’s going on, Eric picks up speed. He loses himself in me without pause until he reaches his limit and grunts, coming right along with me.
We stay wrapped up and against the wall, still breathing heavily.
“It seems that Guantanamera got you excited.”
When he sees my smile, he smiles too. “You excite me, sweetheart. Just you,” he says, holding me closer.
He doesn’t say anything more about what I can and cannot do. He knows he shouldn’t. But now I know exactly what he thinks about Guantanamera.
That night, after making love once more like savages while in the shower, we sleep holding each other and are very, very much in love.
The days pass and Dexter and Graciela are going nowhere. Björn calls to make a dinner date with Graciela. She accepts, and Dexter doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t this man have blood in his veins?
The next day, I ask Graciela about her date, and she tells me delightedly that
Björn was a perfect gentleman the entire night. Zero sex.
Honestly, I’m not surprised. If there’s anything I know about Björn, other than that he’s so very handsome, it’s that he is a real gentleman and loyal to his friends.
Flyn goes back to school. He’s excited about the first day. On the ride there, Norbert and I are glad to see him so happy. He has a gift he made himself for his special friend, Laura, in his backpack, and he’s eager to give it to her. But when we go pick him up later that afternoon, he’s sad and his eyes are downcast.
“What happened?” I ask.
His eyes moisten, and my little man looks at me while still holding the wrapped gift in his hands.
“Laura isn’t at this school anymore.”
“Why?”
“Ariadna told me her parents moved out of the city.”
Oh, my poor little guy, his first heartbreak.
What a shame. Why is love always so difficult?
I hug him, and he lets himself be hugged as Norbert drives us home. I kiss his dark little head and try to imagine the kind of words my father would say in a situation like this.
“Listen, Flyn, I know you’re sad because of Laura, but you have to be positive and imagine that, though she’s no longer at this school, she’s doing well. You don’t want her to be doing badly, right?”
He shakes his head. “But I won’t get to see her again.”
“Well, you don’t know about that. Life is full of twists and turns, and perhaps you’ll run into her again someday.”
He doesn’t respond.
“What do you say we go shopping for Eric?” I propose. “Saturday is his birthday.”
He nods. I give Norbert directions to a jewelry shop where I know there’s a watch my husband likes. It costs a mint, but, hey, we can afford it!
They don’t know me at the jewelry shop, but they know Flyn and Norbert, and, when I say I’m Mrs. Zimmerman, they practically roll out a red carpet and throw rose petals on it for me.
This is so intense. What a difference it is to have money.
After we buy the watch and a black leather bracelet Flyn has picked out for his uncle, I have them gift wrap everything. My nephew is still sad. I don’t like it when he gets like this, especially when he’s been so happy this last month.
“Do you know I’m going to be in a motocross race with Jurgen in a couple of weeks?” I say as we get back in the car.
“Really?”
I nod. “Do you want to be my assistant?”
He nods, but he’s still not smiling.
“What do you say we start your apprenticeship with the motorcycle this coming weekend?”
His expression changes, and his eyes sparkle.
The boy has been wanting to learn how to ride a motorcycle since before our wedding, which is why I asked my father to teach him how to ride a bicycle this past summer. That will make my task much easier.
I know this is going to be hard on Eric. I know this apprenticeship is going to cause me more than just a headache, but I also know that, in the end, Eric will accept things. He has promised to change his attitude, and now he needs to prove it.
Flyn is asking me questions about the motorcycle, and I respond as best I can. “Uncle Eric is going to be mad, isn’t he?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, trying not to give it too much importance. I kiss him on the head. “I promise I’ll convince him.”
But Flyn’s right. Later that evening, after Dexter and Graciela leave to take care of some business matters, I discuss it with Eric, and he blows up.
“Why did you have to bring the subject back up?” he asks, sitting at his desk in his office.
“Listen, Eric,” I respond, looking over the shelves that hold his gun collection. “Flyn was devastated by the loss of his mother, and I was thinking that . . .”
“That he can replace her with a motorcycle?”
I just stare at him. He stares back. It’s a standoff, like always.
“Before the wedding, you promised him he could learn to ride a motorcycle,” I remind him.
“I know I promised. I just don’t know why you had to bring it back up.”
I know I’m very impulsive and I don’t think things through sometimes, but I’m not backing down on this one. “He would’ve asked me about it eventually, and I have a race with Jurgen in two weeks and—”
“You have a what?”
Uh-oh . . .
His brows freeze, and his body tenses up.
“I told you about this. You’ve known about it for a month. I told you Jurgen told me about the race, and you said you thought it would be fun if I took part. You even had my motorcycle brought over on your plane.”
“I did?” he says, surprised.
“Yes, you did, and if you can’t remember, that’s not my problem! But, look, the important thing now is to deal with Flyn.”
“He’s starting school, and I don’t want him to get distracted. Let’s wait until spring for motocross lessons.”
“What?”
“For the love of God, Jude, Flyn doesn’t care if he learns now or later.”
“What I promised—”
“Your promises are your business,” he says, cutting me off dryly. “And, in any case, both your and Hannah’s motorcycles are too big for him. We’d have to buy one that’s the right size for him.”
“Well . . .”
I learned on my father’s motorcycle, and here I am, not a scratch on me!
“Look, Jude, I understand he’s going to learn how to ride a motorcycle, but this is not the moment.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Jude . . . ,” he hisses.
“Eric . . . ,” I retort.
It’s been a little while since I felt this. He stares at me with his frosty Iceman gaze, and I feel my stomach jump. God, he really knows how to make me nervous. Just as I’m about to tell him I don’t want to argue, the phone rings. Eric picks up and gives me a sign to let me know it’s work.
I wait five minutes to see if we can finish our conversation, but when I see this is going to take a while, I step out of the office and go get a drink in the kitchen. Flyn is there, looking sad. He’s still holding the gift he made for Laura.
“I don’t want you and my uncle to argue.”
“Don’t worry about it, love.”
“But I heard my uncle get mad.”
“He’s mad because I reminded him I’m going to be in a motorcycle race, not because you’re going to learn how to ride a motorcycle,” I say, lying to his face. “Believe me, love, there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Yes, yes, there is. He’ll get mad, and then you’ll leave again.”
My grumpy little boy loves me and that touches me. I sit down next to him and make him look at me.
“Listen, Flyn, your uncle and I love each other very much, but we’re different in so many ways that it’s going to be very hard for us not to argue. And even if we argue, that doesn’t mean I’m going to leave. Because for me to leave him and you, it would have to be over something very, very serious, and I’m not going to let that happen, OK?”
He nods. I gather him in my lap. I’m still surprised we can be this close, and he hugs me and leans his head on my shoulder.
“Did you know I love your hugs?”
I feel him smile, and we just hug for a few more minutes.
“I love that you live with us.”
We both laugh, and then he surprises me again.
“Now that Laura has moved away, I want this gift to be for you,” he says.
“Are you sure?”
He nods and I accept the gift.
I open it and see there’s a little handmade bracelet. It’s made from my niece’s Bratz game pieces and, surprisingly, in lilac, my favorite color.
“It’s beautiful—I love it!”
“You really like it?”
“Of course I really like it.” I put it on and extend my arm so he can see it on my wrist. “What do y
ou think?”
“It looks really good on you, and it’s your favorite color.”
“How did you know?”
“Luz told me, and I remember my uncle mentioning it once too.”
“Thank you, love,” I say, and give him a kiss. “I love it.”
“Don’t argue with my uncle over me.”
“Flyn . . .”
“Promise,” he insists.
I want him to feel better, so I put my thumb up against his and swear. “I promise.”
He hugs me tightly, so tightly that it hurts my shoulders, but I don’t say anything because I want him to be happy.
“I’m going to bury you in kisses,” I say, tickling him.
He laughs and then I laugh and then we’re both aware Eric’s standing at the door. He’s looking at us, and his look, like always, has an effect on me.
“First of all,” he says—and this makes me smile—“Jude is not going to ever leave us, OK?” The boy nods. “Second of all, we will buy a motorcycle appropriate to your age so you can start your lessons with Jude. And, third of all, what do you say that we go shopping so Jude can be the most beautiful woman during Oktoberfest?”
Flyn gives his uncle a hug and goes running out of the kitchen. I don’t quite understand what’s going on.
And, suddenly, my crazy love is kneeling before me. “It would have to be something very, very, very, very serious for me to let you go, OK, sweetheart?”
“You overheard our whole conversation, didn’t you?”
“I heard enough to know my nephew and I are crazy about you, and we don’t know how to live without you anymore,” he says in a low voice as he brings his mouth closer to mine.
He completely unravels me . . .
His words destroy all my defenses . . .
We kiss, and I want him desperately, but Eric stops me.
“Even though what I want most in the world is to undress you and make you mine a thousand times, I can’t right now.”
I protest.
“Flyn is going to come back any minute so we can go shopping.”
“Where are we going shopping?”
My man kisses me over and over, and when I’ve just about lost all my senses, he gives me a little pat on the butt.
“C’mon, we need to buy you something pretty for the big celebration in Munich.”
Hours later, we meet up with Dexter and Graciela while shopping. Together, we have a fun time buying some traditional Bavarian costumes. We’re going to celebrate!
Tell Me What You Want—Or Leave Me Page 10
