She gave him an exasperated look. “I don’t think I’m ugly, but I’m hardly anyone’s idea of an ideal beauty, that’s why. I’m way too large for my height—”
“Ugh! This obsession with skinny is beyond my comprehension. There is nothing Latinos love more than a woman who looks like a woman. Hell, my mother is far larger than you are, and my father was madly in love with her. I don’t think I have a single aunt or female cousin who is as tiny as the media wants women to be. And their men love them.” He paused. “I should say their significant others love them. One of my cousins, Eva, she’s a lesbian. Regardless, I love the way you look. When I’m with a woman, I want something soft to hold onto, and when I look at your hips, I know I can grab them, and when I squeeze them as I push inside of you, the flesh is going to give beneath my touch—”
He stopped when she clamped her hand over his mouth. Her face was hot, and honestly, she wasn’t sure if it was with pleasure or arousal. “Okay. I get it.”
He mumbled beneath her hand, and she lifted it. “What?”
“Do you believe me now?”
“Yes.” She shouldn’t have asked him, though, not at all. She had trouble resisting him when she’d assumed his flirtation was all for show. Knowing that he really, honestly wanted her, that he loved the way her body looked? It was going to be very tough.
“As for temperament, I want someone gentle and sweet. Someone kindhearted and protective.”
One who would probably never point a gun at him, she thought cattily.
“Someone who will take in an injured man and help him even though she might be frightened of him, simply because it’s the right thing to do. Someone who might act sassy and brash but has the most gentle of touches.” He looked at her with probing eyes.
She glanced away, suddenly shy. Genevieve cleared her throat and looked down at the cards she was idly shuffling. “Great. Good answers. Okay, next round?” She won the next hand in even shorter time and was a bit dismayed. God knew what information he would share this round. She decided to stick to something safe, her original question. “Tell me about your family.”
Alex relaxed. “I was born and raised in Brooklyn ’til I was about twelve and my dad died. After that, we moved to Westchester so my mom could be near her family. My brother and her still live up in New York.”
“I’ve never had a sibling. What was that like?”
“You’ll never meet a more sober, stick-up-your-ass person than Lincoln. I swear he programs bathroom breaks into his PDA. He’s the black sheep of our family. Defense attorney.”
Genevieve hid a grin. “Disgusting.”
“Tell me about it.” His tone was rife with affection.
“Wait…Alejandro and Lincoln?”
He snorted. “My father named me after his brother, who my mom despised. He told her she could name the second child. My mom was super proud of becoming an American citizen, and she’s always loved history. I think Linc got down on his knees daily and thanked God he hadn’t been named Abraham.”
She gave a fleeting smile, but then sobered. “How did your dad die?”
A shadow crossed his face. “He was a cop too. Shot during an armed robbery at a gas station. The kicker was that he was off duty. He had just stopped by to pick up some milk when a crack addict walked in and pulled a gun on the cashier. He tried to overpower the guy, took a slug in the chest and died en route to the hospital.” Alex swallowed. “I can still remember opening the door to the uniforms who showed up to tell us. My mom took one look at them and just grabbed me and my brother and started to sob. The fear of every cop’s spouse, I guess.”
She was silent for a second. “I’m sorry. That sucks.”
“Yeah.”
“He sounds like he was a good cop, though. Not all of them are.”
He looked up sharply. “Sounds like you have a personal reason to say that.”
She began to deal. “Nuh-uh. Not your turn to ask questions.”
He must have been motivated, because he declared rummy. She waited, stomach knotted, for him to ask her why she disliked police. She’d have to forfeit, because she couldn’t talk about that, wouldn’t talk about it with anyone. Would his lips taste sweet or spicy? Would he use his tongue? Did he expect her to?
“Genevieve?”
“Huh?”
“Do you not want to answer?”
His tone was even, so she wasn’t sure if he was happy about that prospect or not. “I’m sorry, can you repeat the question?”
“Tell me about your family and your childhood.”
