I smile sardonically. “Ah,you’remad?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
I want us both to burn up with this.
I yank the door open and wave for her to get in. She takes a hesitant step toward the restaurant as if she’s considering going back inside, and I shake my head, just once. “Don’t.”
She sighs, and with proud arrogance, she brushes past me. Intentionally or not, the feel of her supple body ignites mine. I almost reach out and stop her so I can take another kiss. I could soothe this ache in us so easily. Instead, I buckle her in safely and shut her door.
I’m grateful for the silence on the way home. After the last few days, I need to decompress, and I don’t want to take my stress out on Isabel.
We’re almost home when she finally looks my way. “Were you jealous?”
From her tone, it’s clear she isn’t ready to make peace.
“Watching you smile at him?”
She nods, and I tighten my hold on the steering wheel, knowing it’s best if I don’t answer. She shouldn’t know how much she affects me. It would scare her.
“That’s how I felt watching you all night,” she admits quietly. “With Daniella…with everyone.”
I scowl at her only to find her studying my profile.
“I wanted you there, by my side.”
Her eyes slip back to the road. “It didn’t feel like it.”
I hate that she doubts me.
At home, I toss my keys onto the table by the door, then take Isabel’s hand and lace our fingers together, pulling her deeper into my house.
“I tried to save you from the cameras out front. I didn’t think you wanted them taking your picture, asking your name. Your parents still don’t know you’re here. Simone, Annika—they don’t know who you really are.”
Impatient, angry,hungry—I pause suddenly and push her up against the plaster wall. Shrouded in shadows, I step close to her and bend low, my words a quiet murmur. “Next time, I’ll drag you down that carpet with me. I’ll kiss you so they know you’re mine. Aren’t you, Isabel? ¿Nena? Are you mine?”
She swallows and looks away, steeling herself. “I’m leaving at the end of summer, Cristiano. I’m going back to California.”
I smile at her confidence. She really thinks she’s going.
“No.”
Already I’m kneeling down so my lips can blaze a path up her legs. I wind my hands around her calves, sliding them higher, taking her dress up and bunching it at her hips. I kiss her smooth thighs, feel them tense then relax beneath my mouth.
I have to make her stay.
God, I can’t even imagine the alternative.
Earlier today, I sat in a final walkthrough of Sabor a Sol, and though my team was talking, I wasn’t listening. It was like I was submerged underwater, in my own world, their voices dulled to background noise. I was thinking of Isabel as I saw her the other night, sleeping peacefully after we showered together, all her dark hair fanned out over my pillow, her skin still flushed from the hot water. I couldn’t resist tracing her cheek. Kissing her awake, taking her again.
I’m leaving at the end of summer, Cristiano. I’m going back to California.
Her announcement scares the shit out of me. Why am I tempted to plead with her to stay? Why do I have the sinking feeling that despite the chemistry we share, she would say no?
My thoughts have been with her constantly. Juan Carlos brought me lunch yesterday at my office. He forced me to eat when I told him I was too busy, but I couldn’t seem to stay at the table. I wanted to be back with Isabel, preferably tangled in my sheets.
“I knew it would happen one day,” Juan Carlos remarked.
