She flinched then, and pulled back, freeing her other hand from his grip.
His heart ground to a stop, and his stomach clenched.
Por Dios
, he had his answer, and it definitely wasn’t the answer he’d hoped for. He guessed he should feel relieved to finally know, but he didn’t.
It was over. Better to end it quickly.
“I understand. Let me get the check.” Raising his hand, he signaled for the cocktail waitress.
“Wait,” she said, putting her hand on his arm. “You didn’t let me tell you my feelings. I thought that’s what you wanted to know.”
“You don’t have to explain, Adriana. It’s obvious.”
“How?”
“Your face, your body, the way you reacted when I asked you.” He looked away. He didn’t want to argue. He wasn’t up for that. He just wanted to end it and go back to his room.
“Well, I’m glad you’re so perceptive, but I think you should allow me to talk. Otherwise, you don’t really believe what you said—that you want to know my feelings.”
“Speak. Talk,” he said. “I’m sorry I cut you off.”
But he wasn’t really sorry. Truth be known, he couldn’t take much more of this: her weirdo reactions and the barriers she threw up at a moment’s notice. It made him feel like a Crusader, throwing himself against an impregnable wall with flaming pitch being poured down on him. It was a silly analogy but that was the way he felt.
The cocktail waitress came with their check, and he paid it.
When the waitress had left, Adriana said, “I care about you, Rafael. And I’d like to see you again. Other than that, I can’t promise anything else.”
He let out his breath. Here it was finally, the truth. And he’d asked for it.
Better suck it
up and take it like a man
.
“I’ll be graduating in a few weeks. Then I want to find a promising job and concentrate on my career. My career has to come first, Rafael. That’s the way it is with me. There will be time for ... for ... other things later.”
“I see. And those other ‘things’—are you talking about love and marriage?”
She’s even
afraid to say the damned words
.
She blushed and ducked her head. “Yes, that’s what I mean.”
Well, that was that then. He knew where he stood ... nowhere. Gripping the table with both hands, he thought about arguing with her, trying to convince her that loving someone was more important than a hundred careers. But what good would that do? She had a right to her feelings.
“Let’s go,” he said. He got up and held her chair for her.
She glanced up at him, a kind of plea in her velvety blue eyes, but he hardened his heart and looked away, taking her arm and steering her from the crowded lounge. Expecting her to leave him in the lobby, he was surprised when she continued to cling to his arm. When they reached his bank of elevators, he gently disentangled himself and offered to shake hands.
“I’ve enjoyed knowing you, Adriana. I wish you all the success and—”
He didn’t get any further. Brushing his hand aside, she rose on tiptoe and fastened her mouth to his. Groaning in the back of his throat, he took her offering, unable to push her away. Their mouths fused, devouring each other.
The kiss went on and on, hot and wet and filled with mutual hunger. She opened her mouth, and he didn’t hesitate to plunge his tongue inside.
He knew they were fast becoming the local spectacle. He registered the murmurs and chuckles of other hotel guests, ebbing and flowing around them, getting on and off the elevators. But he couldn’t stop, couldn’t tear himself from her.
Adriana was the one who broke their kiss, as abruptly as she’d initiated it, to whisper, “I want to kiss you properly, in privacy, please. Can we go to your room?”
#
As soon as Rafael closed the door behind them, Adriana flew into his arms and offered her mouth again. She’d meant it when she’d told him she wanted to kiss him properly. And even better, when they were kissing, they couldn’t talk. No more talk. No more discussion of the futures. All that interested her was the here and now.
All she wanted was to melt into his strong arms, taste his hot mouth, and feel his hard lean body pressed against hers. Nothing else mattered. Rafael revered words, believed they expressed people’s true feelings, but words could be a trap. A finely meshed net to ensnare and enslave, take away your freedom and give you nothing in return.
She didn’t know what that meant exactly or where the realization had come from, and she didn’t care. All she cared about at this moment was Rafael holding her.
Her fingers tightened around his neck, brushing the silky ends of his hair. She mated her mouth and tongue with his, demanding and giving, wanting more—wanting to be closer, skin against skin, flesh against flesh.
With a will of their own, her fingers found the buttons of his shirt, worrying them free, parting them until a triangle of his bronzed chest appeared, lightly dusted with black, curly hair. She scored her fingernails there, branding him, delighting in the feel of him under her fingertips: the rock-hard muscles of his chest, the ridged, masculine lines of him.
He lifted his hands and caressed her breasts through the thin fabric of her dress, molding them to fit his hands, rubbing the material over her nipples. Arching her back, she begged for more. Her breasts heated under his touch, swelling with need, growing rounder and fuller, heavy with passion. Her nipples hardened and peaked, straining against the lace of her bra.
She pulled his shirt open and freed it from his trousers. He broke their kiss to undo his cuffs and shrug out of the shirt, letting it drift to the floor in a crumpled heap.
Her gaze traveled over his bare chest, drinking in the sight of him, the masculine lines and planes, the ridges of muscles. Just looking at him set her heart pounding, her blood racing. She laid her head against his naked chest and listened to his heartbeat, strong and sure, a rapid trip-hammer, throbbing with excitement.
His arms welcomed her, enfolding her while his lips strayed down her throat, kissing and nuzzling. His tongue followed, licking and stroking, setting her blood on fire. His hands were busy at her back, and she heard the rasp of her zipper parting. A gust of cool air touched her bare back, and she shivered.
Hot and then cold, sensations piling on top of one another, mounting, building inside of her, driving her to a frenzy—to that mindless place where her brain shut down, and her body’s senses took over. At this one moment in time, she lived for sensations only, for the touch of his hands, the heat of his kisses, the wet and rough caress of his tongue.
His hands bunched the hem of her dress, pulling it up while his fingertips roamed and explored, tracing the line of her hip. He paused at her breasts to knead them gently, stroking lightly over her nipples, making her scream silently for more.
OMG, she wanted to be naked---now.
She wanted him now ... to have his hands, his mouth, and his tongue roaming all her body, discovering her secrets and driving her to the edge of ecstasy. Oh, how she wanted that shimmering brink of insanity he’d driven her to at their picnic.
She pulled away from him, bracing herself against the circle of his arms. Her gaze locked with his deep brown eyes, and she grabbed the hem of her dress, lifting it over her head. He gasped, and his gaze traveled over her, as if he could drink her in. The pupils of his eyes darkened.
She stood proudly before him clothed in only her bra, panties, and high heels.
“
Por Dios
,” he whispered, his voice low with awe.
“¡Qué belleza!”
You’re so beautiful, so very beautiful. Like a dream, Adriana, like a dream.”
“I’m no dream, Rafael,” she said, moving closer. “Touch me, I’m real. I won’t disappear.”
He did as she asked, skimming his fingertips over her collarbone and the mounds of her breasts, tracing an imaginary line down her abdomen to the top of her panties. And when he cupped her woman’s mound, she couldn’t help but moan with pleasure.
Leaning into his hand, she gyrated her hips, pushing herself against him, straining toward that paradise she’d only glimpsed before.
But he surprised her by going down on his knees and moving his hands to run them over her legs, down and back again, up and down, tracing the contour of her calf muscles, lingering at the sensitive spot behind her knees. He brought his hands up again, between her legs this time, tantalizing her, teasing her, circling close but not touching her there again.
She swayed slightly on her feet, drowning in desire. Kicking off her shoes, she bent her knees, arching into his touch, craving it, burning up with it. His fingers worked their magic, bringing every nerve ending alive in her body with a quivering need. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted more. Reaching behind her back, she unfastened her bra, allowing her breasts to swing free.
He gazed at her breasts, his dark eyes liquid pools of desire. He lifted one hand and gently cupped the flesh of her breast while his other hand moved to her panties, slowly peeling them down. Tenderly, he stroked the flesh of her legs, leaving a searing path on her sensitized skin. Her panties puddled at her feet, and she kicked them aside.
Now she was naked, completely naked, giving herself to the man whom she desired more than anyone in the world.
Kneeling at her feet, he said, “There are no words, Adriana, no words I can say. Except I want you so much I could die.”
“Don’t want, take,” she said. “Please, make love to me.”
Groaning, he buried his face in the triangle of her curls. When his mouth pressed against that most intimate part of her, desire streaked through her like a summer storm—hot and bright, a thunderclap of desire, a lightning bolt of passion. Her knees turned to jelly, and she stumbled, grabbing his shoulder so she wouldn’t fall.
He grasped her and held onto her tightly, one arm encircling her buttocks. His clever fingertips found her clitoris and he played with that most intimate part of her, stroking and caressing her.
She leaned into him, twining her hands in his wavy hair to steady herself, offering herself on the altar of their desire. His fingers fell away suddenly, as he grasped her buttocks tighter and buried his face in that most secret part of her.
Gasping, she almost dissolved when she felt the hot adhesion of his mouth, sucking her clitoris gently, while his tongue explored the sensitive lips of her labia. A tornado of passion tore through her and she was crazed, molten and feverish. She tried to pull away, not knowing if she could stand it, the pure unadulterated bliss of his mouth on her.
He lifted his head. His dark eyes were glassy with passion. “Let me do this.
Por favor
, let me give you pleasure.” His hold on her buttocks tightened, and his other hand reached up to circle her nipple, plucking and pulling at the hardened point, pushing her to the edge.
She sagged against him, unable to protest further, unable to argue with both him and the demands of her body. She was slick and hot with desire. She could smell the musk of her own arousal. Her vaginal muscles contracted painfully, wanting release, begging for surcease.
His mouth and tongue were hot and wet against her again, tenderly exploring and stroking her clitoris, bringing her shuddering, shimmering pleasure, a pleasure so bright and so hot, it was like being swallowed by the sun—searing her and enflaming her.
OMG, she was burning up inside.
Heaven help her but she couldn’t stop grinding her hips against his mouth, taking his gift within her, accepting it fully, feverish with need, blazing with desire. The fire inside of her mounted and mounted, her pleasure taking wings, soaring, filling her, expanding endlessly. Until she exploded.
She screamed his name over and over, while she shattered into a thousand pieces, a thousand glorious pieces, as bright as the sun, raining softly down and down. Floating to earth gently, slowly, having touched heaven.
Rafael rose and stood beside her, tenderly cradling her in his arms. Triumph suffused him, triumph and a bold satisfaction, knowing that he’d pleasured her once again.
And now it was his turn.
Por Dios
, he’d waited for this, wanted it so much. And now he knew she wanted him, too. And that was enough for him, more than enough.
He lifted her pliant body in his arms and covered her mouth with his. With their lips fused together, he carried her to the bed and gently laid her there. He kicked off his shoes, unbuckled his belt, and unzipped his trousers. He stripped his trousers down, bringing his boxer shorts with them and stooping quickly to remove his socks.
As he towered above her, she reached out to him, her gaze lingering on his body. Lowering himself to lie beside her on the bed, he kissed her long and hard while his hands strayed over her, tracing the contours of her body again.
Por Dios
, how he loved the feel of her, the silken slide of her flesh against his, hot and slick. He wanted to memorize her body, to commit every curve, every line of her, to memory.
His mouth strayed downwards, capturing her breast, tenderly sucking, wanting to unravel her again, one inch at a time. He cupped her mound, gently stroking, going slowly this time and brushing lightly, teasing her desire, bringing it awake again. Bit by bit, his hands and mouth moved over her, igniting her passion to a feverish pitch once more.
And while he touched her, she began her own gentle exploration, as well, running her hands over his chest and buttocks, tracing lazy patterns on his thighs. When her hand closed around his penis, molten, throbbing pleasure poured through him, an ecstasy almost painful too to contain.
He gasped against the petal-soft skin of her throat. His heartbeat accelerated, and his breathing was a rasping pant. Her fingers closed, and she rubbed him up and down. The friction almost sent him over the edge. He could feel himself trembling, fighting to hold himself in check, wanting to drive himself into her body with a need so great it filled his mind, filled his senses.
And when she cupped his testicles in her hand, he went rigid with desire, growing harder and bucking against her. Groaning, he admitted, “I can’t take much more of this.”