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“Don’t lie to me, little doll. That’s a sin I’ll never forgive.” Gone is the look of lust, and what stands before me is the devil incarnate, the obsessed killer my father warned me about, and yet I’m not afraid. Even as his hand falls from my face and he grips my hip, turning me around to face the fantastic view—pinning me as he moves to stand behind me—I don’t want to run.
Not when his lips press against my cheek and his hand skims up my midsection, stopping at my throat.
Not when he wraps those strong fingers around my neck and gives it a small squeeze.
If anything, I like his hold. To feel the rise and fall of his chest against my back.
And while I may be a virgin, I’m not a prude. I’ve touched myself to thoughts of this very man since the age of seventeen. He’s whose face I imagine as my fingers slide across slick flesh. The reality is more dangerous than the imagination.
“You don’t scare me, Alejandro.” It leaves me on a whimper as he leaves a trail of tiny bites across the bare skin of my right shoulder. The feel of him this close has made my thighs slick and core ache. “But I do need to know—why me?”
“You’re here because no one has ever left me speechless with one look.” Another small bite, this one followed by a kiss. “Because I need to know what you’re thinking, feeling…what you taste like.” His exhale is rough against my skin, almost pained, and I can’t stop the small smile of satisfaction it brings. I’m not the only one suffering. “You’re here because life has thrown me a curveball and I plan to catch it and keep it close.”
10
HE’S WATCHING ME EAT.
Face serious and eyes hooded, Alejandro takes in the way the spoon slips past my lips and the way I groan with each bite. I’m not trying to be sexual. I’m not trying to seduce him.
This rum cake is just to die for.
“Aren’t you going to eat yours?” I ask, giving him a small smile. My blush gives away how much he affects me. The man has been indulging—treating me to one of the best lunches I’ve had in a long time. Nothing frou-frou or foreign or even expensive.
After letting him tug me into his dining room with the promise to finish our talk, I was served a bowl of sancocho with all the fixings. The hearty soup with a combination of meats came with a side of rice, avocado, and the ever-present peppery sauce to give it a special kick.
My mouth watered as the smells, the comforting gesture, settled in, and I leaned over to kiss his cheek. The action felt natural, his reaction heart-stopping.
His smile was soft with a hint of boyish sweetness that made my heart pitter-patter. At that moment, he didn’t look to be in his thirties, nor the feared man most wouldn’t dare cross paths with. He was just a guy eating a meal with a woman. No pretenses or fake charm.
And I love it more than I should.
Alejandro licks his bottom lip. “I’d rather just watch you, Preciosa.”
“And why is that? You did promise we’d talk over our meal,” I say, bringing the spoon of yummy goodness to my mouth a final time. This last bite is overly saturated with the rum-infused syrup, and a little bit dribbles down to my chin as I savor the decadent morsel.
Did I do that on purpose? Maybe.
Is it worth it to see his eyes dilate, fixated on the syrupy flesh? Yes.
“Because you’re all I can think about. Because I need to know why all this time you’ve been hidden from the public view. My view.”
“That’s not...” My words simply die off, and I swallow hard. Lifting his hand, Alejandro reaches over and swipes the sweetness from my chin and brings it to his mouth. Lips parting, he sucks his finger clean while eyeing mine.
“Delicious.” I’m not ready for his groan. For what that sound does to me. Those cognac orbs never leave my face as heat licks at my skin, making me flush from head to toe. More so than before. “The perfect accompaniment to any meal.”
“Alejandro, I—”
“Need more of you,” he interjects and stands, his chair scraping against the imported floors, the sound loud in the quiet room where all you hear is my rapid breathing. “It’s near maddening, to be honest.”
“This makes no sense.” I’m nodding, accepting the hand he’s holding out for me. “Our families hate each other.”
A rough exhale leaves him when my fingers intertwine with his. “You’re excluded from that.”
“Why?” It’s driving me crazy. I need some sort of explanation to hold on to—rationality to survive on. “Why me?”
He doesn’t talk at first. Instead, Alejandro walks us out of the dining room and toward a room down a long hallway. The door is wide open and the large bed at the center makes my body lock up.
I’m not ready, and my insecurities rise to the surface. I don’t know how to—
