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My family—Thiago and Ivan—have been making moves that have caught the eye of the very government of his family’s native country. Plans have grown, their support among the people of Cuba unshakable, and so have the territories they’ve claimed untouchable to anyone outside of those they trust.
Moreover, while the plane ride was meant to be a short one, I took something to help me relax. To sleep. Not because I’m afraid of planes, but because the last few weeks have been hectic. A little worrisome with opportunists trying to make a name for themselves.
Why didn’t he wake me to disembark?
Sitting up, I take off the covering and squint when the sunlight pierces. That’s also when I take notice of the large, four-poster bed I’m in and the view across from me. There’s a sliding glass door that’s open, warm-looking sand, and further down, the unmistakable blue waters of the Caribbean Sea.
But more than the beautiful scenery, I take note of my nakedness. Of the way my tank top has been cut up into pieces and tossed toward the edge of the bed. How little my lingerie hides from view, and while someone with a rational mind would freak out, I roll my eyes.
I wouldn’t put it past my husband to touch me while I’m asleep. Hell, the man has my permission to.
Breathing in deeply, I take the salty air into my lungs, and the stiffness in my shoulders begins to melt away. There’s also his scent nearby and I turn my head to the left, finding the shirt my love had on when we took off. It’s lying right beside my pillow and pulling me closer. I lean over, picking up the soft cotton and bringing it up to my nose.
“My weakness.” He’s earthy and warm; I inhale deeply and my soul calms. Everything settles and I shake off the last dredges of grogginess, throwing my legs over the edge of the bed. A different set of nerves overtakes my body, and I become jittery with want as I slip his shirt over my head.
He’s near. I can feel it.
The closer to the open glass door I get, the more this invisible rope that connects us thrums as butterflies overtake my stomach. No other man will ever have this effect on me. No one can ever measure up to Thiago. My beast.
He’s mine, and I am his. Completely. Irrevocably.
“Where are we?” My eyes scan the outside for him and find nothing but miles upon miles of endless water and pristine white beaches. It’s beautiful. My soul feels at home near the water—this unmistakable rejuvenation brings a small smile to my face a second before the grin becomes a pout. Waking up alone isn’t something I enjoy, and he knows this. “Better yet, where is the little jerk?”
My feet carry me closer to the shoreline—not giving a single fuck that I’m wearing nothing but his shirt and my underwear—I stop once the gentle waves crash upon my feet. The water is warm, and the sun warms my flesh.
From right to left, I try to search the waterline for the De Leons. I don’t hear anyone—his boisterous family and mine who left the day before—and this view isn’t one I recognize. I’ve been to the compound in Cuba, and this isn’t it.
I’m not scared, though, but my mind begins to race with all the possibilities or the reasons why plans changed. Was there an attack? Are we—
“Relax.” One word is all he says a second before strong arms wrap around my waist and I’m pulled against the owner of the voice. His muscled chest is to my back, his lips at my ear. “Everyone’s fine.”
“Where are we?” It’s a breathless whisper, goose bumps rising across my flesh.
“Unimportant at the moment, Bebe.” Lips trace up from just below my ear to my temple, leaving a fiery trail of kisses that never fail to make me weak. But then again, everything Thiago does affects me. His mere existence is my undoing. “There’s something I need first.”
“What’s that?” A whimper escapes and he chuckles; my body leans against his in surrender.
“I need your lips on mine. I need to taste you, beautiful.”
“You never have to ask, Thiago. I’m yours.” Before the last words pass through my lips, I’m turned around and my husband’s lips are on mine. His kiss is tinged with hunger and the animalistic urgency to devour me, while my body reacts to his fire with a whimpering plea.
Of more. For everything.
“My queen.” He’s aggressive in his hold of me, the hand on my hip slipping down my thigh where he digs his blunt nails in. Then there are the fingers in my hair, tilting my head to the side—dominating me and the pace of the kiss. “Mine. All motherfucking mine.”
He’s everywhere.
He’s harsh nips and then gentle sweeps of his tongue across my lower lip before slipping back inside to caress my tongue.
He’s a growl of hunger against my moan—my arching into his strong chest.
“I want you.” I’m not the least bit ashamed of the way I rub myself against him. Not the least bit concerned with anyone watching us.
I trust him to keep us safe and I give up control, showing my desire without restraint. But just as my hand wanders to the button of his shorts, Thiago pulls back and shakes his head.
My brows furrow while my core clenches in need. “What do you mean—”
“Just close your eyes, Luna.” The look in his eyes, the obsession that promises pleasurable pain, is almost enough to make me come. My nipples tighten into stiff peaks and the gusset of my panties is ruined. Completely soaked. Christ, he’s handsome. “Can you do that for me?”
