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Chapter 3
Her trembling lipsstruggled to utter another word. She should have fled the shameless scene several seconds ago when she opened the door to find Santiago naked, water sliding down his perfect body, stroking his large cock with abandon. Vigorously.
In her defense, she’d meant well. She heard a strange noise, muffled by the sound of the water, and she thought she had better check on him. Why did you stay?
If she’d had any ounce of decency, she would have left immediately. Instead, she had licked her lips, entranced, drooling over his hard muscles. A dragon tattoo swirled around his strong biceps. Just enough hair dusted his pectorals, and his rather large hand enveloped his mouth-watering rod—which caused her to clench the flashlight in her hands so hard she ended up cramping her sweaty palm and dropping the flashlight to the floor.
A warm wave of embarrassment spread through her cheeks and neck.
“Get out,” he hissed.
Tiffany blinked, as the flashlight rolled away from her and beamed on Santiago’s very naked body. She opened her mouth to speak, but didn’t manage a simple sound. Her eyes searched his, and she recognized the fire burning deep in his chestnut irises.
Taking a step back, she nodded—not sure if at herself or at him.
“Get! Out!” he shouted.
She did, and closed the door behind her. For a moment, her trembling hand wrapped around the cold handle.
Until then she’d never seen him without the prosthetic leg. Not that it mattered. But, Santiago was a ridiculously proud man. Maybe he didn’t want her to see him so vulnerable or punishing his dick meat like it’d done something wrong.
Darkness filled the space, and she touched the furniture and walls to find her way back to the office. She’d found candles and matches at least, inside an old credenza.
On her way to the office, she bumped into a console table. Rubbing her knee, she breathed in. I saw him naked.
She gathered the stuff, and headed for the kitchen again. At least, it was further from the bathroom. God. How freaking embarrassing.
Tiffany lit a cherry scented candle, and relief filled her for a moment. At least she didn’t have to worry about her insomnia in the dark. She could get a book from the dozens on the office shelves, go to her room, and read all night long. By the time morning came, she’d be a sleepless intellectual.
She leaned over the granite island, her eyes focused on the growing flicker. Tracing along the wax with the tip of her finger, she smiled. Yes. She’d seen him naked. Of course it was wrong. He had loved her friend, and probably still did. They would always have Patricia’s death between them, even if he didn’t act like a first grade prick whenever she was around. So why even fantasize?
Because you’re a fool.In her teenage years, she had longed for the summer vacations so she had the opportunity to spend time with Marisa’s son. He ignored her most of the time, naturally, but she still treasured seeing him at dinner, and the short amount of time she exchanged snarky comments with him.
“Tiffany,” he called her, and she jumped.
Her heart raced like she had been caught shoplifting. Get it together, Tiffany. She worked at one of the best graphic design companies in the country. She owned a studio apartment in lower Manhattan. She had a good network of friends. So why did her blood go on a low simmer whenever he came near her?
“You scared me,” she said.
She saw him over the shade of the flickering candle light, and he handed her the flashlight. Her fingers brushed his, and she jerked back, awareness shooting up her arm. She swallowed hard. “Thanks.”
“What happened?”
“I found the flashlight, then I heard a noise from the bathroom. I thought you hurt yourself, so I went to check.” And found you punishing your meat.
He narrowed his eyes. “Hurt myself? Why? Because of my leg?”
She lifted her hands in disagreement. “Because we’re in a cottage in the dark. I stumble and walk into things trying to find stuff.”
“Of course. How long were you standing there?”
“I wasn’t there for long,” she said, her voice losing energy in the end. She had been there long enough to have the lusty image imprinted in her memory for years to come.
“You acted scared when the flashlight dropped and you’re acting guilty now,” he said.
Shit.She cleared her throat. How bad did he want to make this for her? “According to you, I’m guilty no matter what, right?”
He sighed. “You’re irresponsible and impulsive.”
