I knewallof him now.
I opened my eyes at the peak and the intensity of the moment shot through both of us. I abandoned myself to the whirl of sensation, my heart bursting with all the raw, tender, fierce things exchanged in that one look.
“Güerita.” He surrendered with a long, shuddering moan.
I wrapped my arms around him. He kissed the top of my head and pulled me closer. He wasn’t done touching me. His fingers moved up and down my back in long, languid strokes.
“You grew boobs,” he said. “Really, really nice boobs.”
“You grew hair.” I traced the silky hair on his arms. “And a really, really big um . . .”
“A big what, Skye? Let me hear you say it.”
“A really, really big personality.”
“The thing about really, really big ‘personalities’ is that they really, really need a lot of attention. And just so you know, I’m always careful. This is the first time I’ve gone—”
“Sombrero-less?” I laughed. “I know you’d never do anything to put me at risk.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because you love me.” There. The words were out and I couldn’t take them back. Let him deny what I’d seen in his eyes, what I knew was the truth.
Damian tensed, as if holding something in check. I held my breath, waiting for the mask to slip back on. My heart was going to break to the murmur of the ocean and the night wind rustling through palm trees. The lump in my throat grew to the size of a giant coconut.
“It’s true,” he said. “I’ve always loved you. Even when I hated you.”
Oh God oh God oh God oh God.
“Loved? Past tense?” I was pushing it, but my heart took a perilous leap.
“Loved. Love. What does it matter?” He pulled me into the cradle of his arms. “Love don’t die.”
“Are you feeding me one of your movie lines, Damian?”
“It’s a song.” He laughed. “My tastes have expanded.” His mouth covered my nipple, sending a warm shiver through me.
“Wait.” I pulled his head back up. “There’s something you should know.”
“I know.” His hands skimmed my waist possessively. “You love me, too.”
“Was Ithatobvious?”
“Skye.” He smiled. “You unleashed a fucking strawberry storm on me.”
Damian reattached the mosquito net over the bed and we stood back, surveying my handiwork.
“She can’t cook, but she can sew,” he said.
“Damn right, I can sew. I learned from the best.”
“So stitching all those flowers onto MaMaLu’s scarves paid off?”
“It’s called embroidery, and yes. She taught me well.”
“I don’t know.” Damian tugged at the patched up mesh. “I think we need to put it to the test.”
“Are you suggesting an afternoon romp, because—”
