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“And you’re an idiot. You don’t get to talk to me like I’m eight years old. I’m sorry Patricia died. I loved her like a sister,” she said, remembering all the summers they spent in the Hamptons. With their fathers being best friends and both of them only children, a special bond had tied them together. Once, they had even carved their nicknames on a tree. Trish & Tiff. “I’ll die with that knowledge. But you don’t have the right to treat me like crap every chance you get.”
“Your refusal to listen cost Patricia her life. She carried my child. A baby I will never get to hold,” he said, his voice bitter.
A baby that wasn’t yours. The words tingled at the tip of her tongue, but she bit the inside of her cheek. She had promised over Patricia’s grave that she wouldn’t say anything to him. After all, he had lost his fiancée, the baby, and part of his leg. No way would she take away his warm memories about Patricia, even if they were based on a lie. But she seriously wondered what kind of father he would have made.
“Maybe not being a dad isn’t such a bad thing. You’re a unpleasant, self-involved bastard—hardly father material,” she said, even though she regretted the acidity of her words a second after she heard herself. Shit. Why did she lose all common sense when he came into sight? I guess he’s right on one thing—I am impulsive.
He stepped back, and thrust his fingers into his hair. Through the flicking light, she saw his facial expressions hardening. Acid churned in her stomach. The man seemed pissed.
Santiago shifted his weight from one side to another, and his back bumped into the counter. A couple dishes on the surface fell to the ground. He growled. “Sometimes I want to bend you over one knee and spank your snarky little ass,” he said under his breath, his Spanish accent so thick it became hard to understand.
My ass, little?A tremor surged through her, and she rose to her feet before she changed her mind. “Do it. If that’ll make you feel better about everything you lost. Do it, Santiago,” she said, her voice unwavering. “Spank me,” she heard herself saying and questioned her own state of mind. She cleared her throat.
I hate myself for wanting him. Maybe she deserved a spanking, in more ways than one. She could act altruistic and say she’d do it to bring an end to the war between them. The impeding punishment also gave her a clean slate. She would no longer experience guilt. She would no longer try to fill her time with all kinds of activities known to man… because a part of her was still a teenager with a silly crush on her stepbrother.
His jaw clenched and he tilted his head, probably entertaining the idea. “That wouldn’t erase what’s happened.”
“Nothing ever will. But if it’ll help you release the pent up anger you feel toward me, I’m in. I’d rather a few slaps on my ass than this toxic vibe between us.”
For a moment, he scrutinized her. Her heart raced, and she shifted her weight from foot to foot. A part of her wanted to shrug it off and take back the words she’d just thrown at him. But the rest of her wanted that spanking in a bad way.
“Take off your pants and underwear,” he demanded.
She raised her gaze to him, and if it weren’t for his bossy tone, she’d double-check his request. He squared his shoulders, arms folded. Did he really think she wouldn’t do it? Maybe he wants me to remove my pants so I’ll change my mind.
A thrill of fear rippled through her. She touched her pants, fingers hovering over the zipper. She swallowed. Did he expect her to back away? Nope. Not this time.
She wondered if he’d laugh and turn away after she bared her ass. He didn’t strike her as the practical joke kind of guy, though. Her fingers trembled, but she needed to keep going. If he didn’t hold his end of the bargain, so be it. At least I gave him a shot to get even. Determined, she pulled down her slacks and underwear, and tossed them to the side. Her thighs trembled with anticipation.
“Bend over the island,” he said gravelly.
God. He wants me to be in a compromising position. Then he’ll turn away and leave.What if he did not? She glanced at the floor, biting her lower lip. She’d never done anything kinky like this before. Her boyfriends were congenial no-nonsense types, and she never pegged Santiago for a kinky one. Although… the man looked like a sex god, and maybe that was just his Monday night. Or maybe he loathed her.
Whatever. Getting this out of his system would set them both free. He would feel like somehow she’d been punished for the horrible night that had changed their lives forever. Payback might be hell, but it also might be a great deal of fun.
She splayed both hands on the granite counter, her palms glued to the slick surface. She shivered, and despite her elevated body temperature, the electricity was still off and with it the heater.
When he came behind her though, a different tremor surged through her. “You can—”
“Quiet,” he said.
Desire pooled between her thighs. This is really happening. He rubbed an invisible circle on her buttocks, and his touch warmed her skin. Little currents of awareness tingled her sex, electrifying her clit with every stroke. Such intimacy was wonderful.
She took a deep breath, drew in his scent. She had worked with perfume brands in the past, and had a glimpse of the fragrance-making process. Various scents fascinated her. Warm French bread straight from the oven. Fresh cut grass in the summer. But Santiago… his scent had no comparison. A dash of musky notes combined with bamboo and mint. Rich and sexy.
He swatted her ass, and she tensed up. His palm felt rough, large, and strong, and it gave her a searing sting. Her flesh came lusciously alive after the swat. Shamelessly alive. She squirmed a bit, finding it hard to continue to remain still.
“Uno,” he said in Spanish.
“Dos.” His palm spanked her again.
She inhaled, unsure if she should encourage him or protest. The sound of his heavy breathing sliced the awkward silence.
This was beyond weird, but she loved every second of it. What a formidable sensation, to let herself go and forget who they were for a moment. She lifted her hips, unsure if the bold move would irk him. But another swat to her ass proved her wrong.
“Tres.”This one stung her more, as if he really wanted to teach her a lesson. Don’t ask for it. I’ll do it my way.
Her sex clenched with need, and she curled and uncurled her toes. The pressure continued, and he counted in Spanish, one, two, three more slaps. By the time he stopped, her scent of arousal filled the air. She didn’t need to touch herself to know a pearly cream dripped from her pussy and slicked her thighs.
