“I put her to bed in the spare bedroom,” she says finally, and I look over at her, wondering why she just didn’t leave her on the couch.
“Can I see her?” I ask, and her eyes soften.
“Of course, Manny. Let me take you to her.” She crosses the room, and I rise from the chair, following her down the hallway. Her steps are light and soundless on the carpet as she stops, placing her finger against her mouth, signaling for me to be quiet.
I nod as she eases the door open, and I walk through. I look around, noticing the spacious room and the soft bedding of the queen-sized bed where Catalina is curled up under the thick covers, sleeping soundly. Her chest’s steady rise and fall let me know she is in a deep slumber. What cuts me deep is when I see the long t-shirt that I assume is Nadia’s, and how tightly she is hugging a long-eared stuffed animal, and by the looks of it, it is like the rabbit character fromAlice in Wonderland. I walk over quietly, crouch beside the bed, and kiss her forehead lightly. I stand there for a second, lost in the moment, before slipping back out and closing the door behind me with a soft click.
When I return to the kitchen, Nadia places a plate before me. The steaming lasagna is piping hot, and the mouthwatering aroma wafting in the air makes my mouth water. I pick up the fork she placed by the plate and cut into the layered piece of heaven. Stringsof melted cheese hang from the fork as I lift a heaping bite to my mouth. The flavor that bursts forth is indescribable. I didn’t realize how much I missed home-cooked meals. You know, the kind that I don’t have to actually make myself. My amá’s food is excellent, but it’s usually heavy dishes, whereas I prefer to grill more meat and vegetables. But Nadia’s lasagna is to die for, and I can’t help but wonder who taught her how to cook like this. And as I sit there, I wonder why it is that I want to know everything about this girl.
“What did you guys do today?” I ask in between bites of food.
She smiles and lifts her chin towards me, ignoring the question. “Did you want another piece?”
I nod. “Maybe not as big, though.” She chuckles, cutting me another piece, and pops it into the microwave to heat it. I scrape the last bits off my plate before she takes it, rinses it, and grabs a clean one from the shelf. A moment later, she hands me a fresh plate with another steaming heap of lasagna. She sprinkles a little parmesan on top before sliding it across the kitchen island to me.
I pick it up eagerly, ready to devour another bite. Her eyes sparkle with amusement as she watches me eat.
“Do you like it?” she asks.
I shake my head, a playful grin tugging at my lips. “Nope,” I answer matter-of-factly. “Hate it. Never had anything so terrible.” She scoffs, and I lift my head at the sound of her laughter that follows. It makes me smile to see her like this. “I love it,” I answer truthfully as I finish off the second piece in record time, since it wasn’t that big and all. That’s my excuse, and I’m sticking to it. I stand from the seat, take my plate over to the sink, and begin to clean off my plate. She steps to intercept it.
“Manny, you don’t have to do that,” she says, shaking her head and dropping her gaze. I gently guide her chin up, tilting her face toward mine. Then I lean down, placing a soft kiss on her pretty little mouth. She smiles against my lips, and when I finally pull away, I can’t help but grin back at her.
“You cooked, so it’s only fair I clean up,” I counter. She grabs a couple of towels, handing me one as we fall into a steady rhythm of washing and drying the dishes side by side. She answers my earlier question, telling me about what she and Catalina did today, andit all feels so natural, like something we’ve done countless times before.
After it’s all done, she looks at me, her stare lingering a little too long. “I was wondering,” she pauses, biting her lower lip and choosing her following words before speaking. She seems to decide where she is going with this and asks, “Maybe you guys can just stay here for the night.” I give her a look that I can only think is one of confusion, because that is not where I saw this going, but I am so down for it if it is. Whatever she sees in my expression must give her the confidence to continue. “I can bring Catalina back to your house in the morning after breakfast. That way, you can go home and get ready for your day without worrying about anyone else.”
I smirk, trying to rile her up. “So you are trying to send me on my way already, Nadia.”
She quickly shakes her head. Her hand reaches out, grabbing hold of my arm to stop me. “No, that’s not exactly what I meant,” she says shyly. I regard her curiously because now I am confused. Her eyes dart back and forth, avoiding mine, and then it hits me. She’s not trying to get rid of me. She wants me to stay. I suck in a sudden breath, the realization hitting me. Her worried gaze finally lifts to meet mine.
“Let’s be very clear, Nadia, and use all of our words, so I don’t get confused, but from what I’m gathering, you are asking me to stay over, too?” If it’s possible, the poor girl looks more nervous, wringing her hands together in circular motions, and I am a jackass for making her feel this way. I reach out to her, placing my hands on hers, and stilling her. Making her anxious wasn’t my intention when all I asked for was clarity. So I continue to push her for answers, because I don’t just want to know, I need to know.
“And where will I sleep, mi cariño?” I murmur, stepping closer and eating up the distance between us. I am really glad at this point that I went home to shower before meeting the client after work because I’m almost flush with her, and it’s still not close enough. I wrap my arms around her, lifting her effortlessly as she instinctively hooks her legs around me. I set her down on the kitchen island, her body trembling slightly at the contact. I can’t tell if it’s from the chill of the stone countertops or the fact that I’m touching her.Her skin feels like hot molten lava, and I want to burn in it even if it means being closer to her when I know I shouldn’t. We are crossing all kinds of lines, and I feel more and more careless with each passing day because this woman makes me want to throw every rule I made about swearing off relationships out the door. I just want to grab on to her and never let go.
I step into her, spreading her legs wider as I move between them. My hands slide up her thick thighs, then move to her full ass, gripping tightly and pulling her closer against me. Her cardigan slips from her shoulders, and I push it the rest of the way off, letting it fall onto the countertop. I lean in, and her pupils dilate, her pink tongue flicking out to wet her lips. I track the movement, hunger curling low in my gut because I want a taste so badly. The scent of her minty toothpaste and coconut lip balm clings to her as I breathe it in, nuzzling my nose along her freshly cleaned face. Running my hands up her tanned legs, I stifle a groan. This woman has a body made for sin, and I want to defile it in more ways than I can count. “I’ll ask you one more time, Nadia.” My impatience comes through. “And I want you to tell me a truth.”
She inhales sharply, her breath catching before she speaks. “A truth?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. I pull back just enough to meet her gaze and ensure she sees exactly what I’m asking.
“Yeah. A truth,” I say lowly. “I need you to tell me what you want and, more importantly, where you want me to sleep, baby. If you want me on the couch, I’ll sleep there. If you want me in your bed, I’ll be there, too. I just need to know.” I hold my stare, and I lean forward, trying to be patient as I wait for her response.
“I want you in my bed, Manny,” she breathes out, finally putting me out of my misery. “And I want you to take me there now.” I don’t need to hear anything else. With her legs wrapped tight around my waist, I lift her easily.
“That one at the end,” she points, and I carry her to her bedroom. I set her down gently on the bed, and for a second, I just stand there, taking her in. Then I step back, closing the door softly behind us. The moonlight spills through the windows, bathing her in an ethereal glow. She’s sprawled out on the bed, looking up atme, and I swear, I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.
“If you don’t want this, tell me now,” I say, my voice rough with need. I strip off my shirt, socks, then shove down my pants, stepping out of them until I’m left in nothing but my boxer briefs. She stares at me, wide-eyed, her gaze dropping lower.
My cock is already at full mast, straining against the fabric. I grip myself, trying to relieve the rapidly building ache. But then she reaches out, grabs my hand, and pulls me down on top of her. I brace myself over her, trying not to crush her with my larger frame. As I look into her eyes, I make a silent vow at this moment. One that I hope she can see written all over my face.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Manny stares at me, and I am at a loss for words. I can’t believe we are here in my bedroom about to do this. The first time I saw him, he stared down at me with what I thought was disgust. I never could have imagined this moment between us would happen. But now, there is nothing in his gaze but adoration and the unspoken promise of tomorrow. After his recent confession, when I asked for a truth, he admitted that he had tried to fight off his initial reaction to me at the diner when I was on my knees in front of him. But now, all the fight has left him as he holds my stare.
“We don’t have to do this tonight,” he says in a hushed tone, almost as if it pains him to say those words. I can tell he wants me badly and feel it as his solid warmth invadesmy wet center. His caring words thread around my heart like sutures, mending it in all the ripped places. I drag my tongue across my bottom lip, and his piercing blue eyes track the movement, holding me captive, darkening when my hand finds him through his briefs. He is thick, hot, and pulsing against my palm, and I shiver at the feel of him and what I envision it will be like when he finally pushes into me for the first time. There’s no way I can wait any longer. I need all of him. I ache for the connection, the closeness, and the feeling of being totally his. I tighten my grip, and his breath hitches in response.
He squeezes his eyes shut briefly. “Fuck,” he groans, lowering himself, and I readily move my legs apart so that his cock can rest at my clothed entrance. “Are you trying to torture me?” His voice strains as his cock pulses in my grip. He rests his forehead against my shoulder, his breath warm on my skin. I trail my tongue up the side of his neck, tasting the saltiness of his skin, before brushing a kiss against his ear.
“You’re the one torturing me, Manny.” My voice comes out shaky. “I’m the one still clothed.”
