Chapter 13 #2
She didn’t answer, because she couldn’t seem to make her own throat work. With trembling fingers, she undid the belt of her robe and let it slip from her shoulders to fall in a puddle at her feet.
He said nothing, just took her in with his eyes. Lingering on certain parts more than others. The feel of his gaze on her was so intense, he may as well have struck a match to her skin.
“Dios,” he breathed. “Eres hermosa.”
He crossed the distance between them and, gripping her ass in both hands, lifted her. She braced both hands on his shoulders, her legs coming up to wrap around his hips.
He carried to her bed and dropped her down onto it.
Standing over her, he gently pushed her knees apart with his.
Then he tilted her chin up with a crooked index finger and kissed her.
His tongue glided across her lips, then slid into her mouth, and it was caressing and gentle, and then it was possessive and bold, and so deep in her mouth it felt like a foretaste of what was to come.
She didn’t even notice he’d unclasped her bra until she felt him gliding the straps over her shoulders. Then it was off completely, landing in her lap.
He broke off the kiss to look down at her small breasts, his hands going to them as if they couldn’t stop themselves. He cupped each one, taking advantage of her open-mouthed gasp to kiss her again.
Her hands went to tug at the hem of his t-shirt, communicating wordlessly that she wanted it off too.
He obliged, grabbing the back collar of his singlet and pulling it down over his head.
When he straightened, she got a little jolt, like she did every time she saw him shirtless.
He had a beautiful body. Thick muscles covered his arms and shoulders, but his abdomen was long and lean, like a dancer’s.
It was his tattoos, however, that always gave her a slight shock.
One in particular: the black hand on his left pec, right over his heart.
She didn’t mind any of his other tatts, though some of them were beautiful.
Works of art. But that one she hated. Every time she saw it, she had an urge to cover it with her own hand, make it go away.
He dropped his t-shirt on the floor to join her bra. Then he came back to his spot between her legs and gripped her chin between thumb and finger. He lifted her head, making her look him in the eye. “Are you okay?”
She wanted to say yes, but her heart was making a filthy liar out of her. He must have been able to feel its beat pulsing in every vein under her skin.
He pressed his thumb against her lips. “You can tell me to stop. Anytime. I swear I will.”
She looked up at him and said softly, but with certainty, “Daniel. I don’t want you to stop.”
She shifted higher on the bed. He bent over her and curled his fingers around the waistband of her panties. When she lifted her hips, he striped it off her with the practiced ease that made her think he’d done that move many times before.
She forced that thought away.
Some ingrained modesty made her try to close her legs, try to conceal herself from him, but he didn’t let her. He gripped her knees, one in each palm, and then just looked at her. His gaze was so potent it was like he was touching her everywhere, all at once.
Her returning gaze was much less confident. His eyes went back to hers and she knew he’d heard the questions she hadn’t asked. “Eres perfecto.”
He leaned over her, his hands around her waist until she was lying flat against the bed. Then he began laying down a trail of kisses from her neck, over her breasts, down her ribs. Then lower…and lower… He pressed his tongue against her stomach.
“Quiero probarte,” he said huskily.
She pushed herself up on her elbows. He was looking up at her, along the length of her body. There was a question in his eyes. She didn’t need a translation to know what he was asking her. To know the destination of his relentless downward journey.
Her breath got stuck somewhere in her throat. She nodded, and it was all the permission he needed.
She fell back on the bed and covered her face with both hands like she could somehow contain the feeling of his mouth on her.
“Oh my God,” she said, her voice muffled by her palms. She tried to wiggle away, but he gripped onto her thighs to hold her still. His tongue was hot and wet, smooth and rough. It was like some kind of torture dreamed up by angels.
She arched her back. Sensation exploded in her. She might have actually screamed, though she hoped that might have only been in her head. Daniel was grinning up at her like a devil, so she realized it must have been out loud.
He sank his teeth into the soft skin of her upper thigh. The sudden flip from pleasure to pain made her gasp.
She laughed shakily and said, “You’re very good at that.”
He grinned again, climbing back over her body like a lion over its prey. “Really? I couldn’t tell.”
He worked his way back up to her mouth, plunging his tongue now into her mouth. She could taste herself on him, salty and musky, and a little shocking that two separate people could be this intimate with each other.
“Damn,” he murmured against her mouth. “You taste good everywhere.”
He sat up, positioning himself between her legs, and undid his jeans. She pushed up onto her elbows and watched. The bulge of him in his tight boxers was obscene, and it made her mouth water. She had a sudden urge to reach out touch him, but fear stopped her.
He pulled a condom from his pocket. Using his teeth, he tore it open and rolled it on. He propped himself up with one arm, settling on top of her to avoid putting his weight on her. Taking her hand, he led it down between them to wrap around him. He was long and hot and hard.
She angled him until she could feel the blunt tip of him pressing against her.
He slid inside her, then stayed still for a moment, letting her body adjust to him.
Leaning over her, he placed his forearms on either side of her head and kissed her, sucking her bottom lip and dragging it between his teeth.
He made a low moan against her mouth, then he started to move.
His lower body rolled sinuously against hers.
She bowed her back up to meet him, lifting her knees so they clamped around his ribs.
He made a sound of almost misery and pressed his forehead against hers.
“You like that, huh?” his words came on sharp pants between each thrust. “You like it when I’m all the way fucking inside you?
” He grabbed both her hands and held them above her head and kissed her like he never had before.
Like it was the last thing he wanted to do before physically leaving this earth.
His movements formed a rhythm, both urgent and steady, and with each one came a growing sensation inside her.
She felt like she was hurtling towards some precipice.
When she finally reached it, she teetered on the edge for a moment, hanging suspended in a feeling of intense pleasure, then she shattered.
Above her, Daniel’s body tensed, his legs shaking.
His grip on her hands was so tight, it caused hurt.
He stilled for a heartbeat, then thrust into her one more time.
He broke off the kiss and groaned against her mouth.
Whispered something unintelligible in Spanish or English, or maybe some made-up language of his own.
Rolling off her, he draped over his eyes. His torso glistened with sweat. “Santa madre de Dios y dulce Jesucristo,” he panted, dropping his arm.
She just lay there, not even trying to move. She felt like she’d melted to the bed. He turned to look at her, propping his head up on his elbow.
She curled around to face him, too. She didn’t want to say anything.
She was content just to lie there and bathe in the way he was looking at her.
He made her feel like she was truly beautiful, and not just in some superficial, physical way, but in some other nameless way that only he had the parameters for.
It made her think that if she could spend the rest of her life being judged by him and only him, she might actually be happy.
He got up, kicked off his jeans and underwear, then went to dispose of the condom in the bathroom. She watched as he walked naked back to the bed.
He lay back down beside her, and she instinctively wiggled closer, their bodies drawn together like magnets.
“Can I ask you something?” she murmured.
He tensed. “What?”
“How many girlfriends have you had?”
His body relaxed. “None.”
She blinked, caught off guard. For a moment she didn’t quite believe him, then her eyes landed on the word ALONE inked along his skin by his jaw.
He held her gaze. “What do you really wanna know? How many girls I’ve fucked? Or how many I’ve been in love with?”
She hesitated, caught between two equally loaded questions. Then, finally: “The second one.”
He propped an arm behind his head, a slow smile tugging at his lips. “One. Her name was Gabby. She was twenty-three. I was eight.” A laugh rumbled low in his chest. “She was my babysitter. Guess I was punching above my weight even back then.”
She smiled, in spite of herself. That seemed to soothe the nerves that had crept in, but only for a moment.
She hesitated, then asked—casually, or at least trying to sound that way—“So… ballpark, how many girls have you slept with?”
The second the words left her mouth, she regretted them. It sounded too insecure, too revealing. But she couldn’t help it. Compared to her own history—short, sheltered, careful—his past felt like another universe.
He didn’t answer right away. Just gave a slow shake of his head, eyes unreadable.
She waited, trying to read him. The quiet stretched, just long enough for her to wonder if she’d pushed too far.
“But there’s no one else now, right?” she asked, more vulnerable than she meant to sound.
He reached out and ran his thumb along her cheekbone, gentle and sure.
“Baby, there’s no one even close.”
* * *
Daniel thought he could happily stay in that bed for hours. Between those thousand-thread-count sheets, in a room that smelled like her, with her warm body curled beside him—yeah, he could stay here for the rest of the afternoon. Maybe the rest of his life.
Lying on his side, head propped up on one elbow, he watched Julia sleep.
Her hair fanned across the pillow like a halo, and with each slow breath, her bare shoulders rose and fell.
His gaze trailed over her, memorizing the delicate curve of her spine, the way her lashes fluttered slightly in dreams.
Fuck, she was perfect.
One of her eyes cracked open. Then the other. She smiled, before her expression faltered into something almost shy. “Why are you staring at me?”
He grinned. “I’m just committing to memory how good you looked in that little lacy pink thing. Y’know, in case I get lonely later.”
She rolled over to face him, smiling sleepily. He slid a hand behind her neck, drawing her closer. Their lips met, slow and unhurried, like they had all the time in the world. His thumb traced down the soft skin of her throat, settling in the hollow at the base of her neck.
She let him kiss her for a moment, then her fingers brushed his wrist, feeling the watch strapped there. Suddenly, she stiffened. “Wait, what time is it?”
Before he could answer, she grabbed his hand and twisted it so she could see the watch face.
“Shit.” She sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “My mom’s due home any minute.”
Daniel didn’t move. He just watched her, still lazy with sleep.
She glanced over her shoulder, exasperated. “You have to go.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now.”
He groaned and sat up, rubbing his face. “Isn’t there, like, a window I can jump out of or something?”
“Not unless you don’t mind a twelve-foot drop.”
He moved behind her, draping an arm over her shoulder, his hand curving around her breast. His inked skin was stark against her pale complexion. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, then along the slope of her collarbone. “I might not mind if it means I get to stay longer.”
“Daniel,” she murmured, tilting her head as if tempted.
But then her eyes flicked toward the driveway. His car was sitting out there, loud and unmistakable.
“You have to go now.”
He caught her mouth again, kissing her deep, but she broke away too soon. So, he moved to the back of her neck instead, sweeping her hair aside with his fingers. “What do you think she’d do if she found me up here?” he murmured. “Call the cops?”
He meant it as a joke, but her expression instantly sobered.
“Shit, really?”
She pressed her lips together, looking both worried and a little irritated. “It’s just better if she doesn’t meet you this way.”
He sighed but didn’t argue. Instead, he rolled off the bed and started gathering his clothes.
Julia sat back against the pillows, watching him dress. “When can I see you again?”
He glanced at her hopefully. “Tonight? My place?”
The words hung between them. She hadn’t been back to his trailer since that night. He wondered if she still saw the place in her nightmares.
She bit her bottom lip, hesitating. Then, so softly he almost didn’t hear it, she whispered, “Okay.”
Relief coursed through him. “Text me when you’re ready. I’ll come get you.”
She smiled “You know, if we’re gonna keep this thing on the down-low, you really need to get a better muffler for your car.”
He tugged on his singlet and shook his head in mock frustration. “Baby, you don’t put a muffler on a Hemi. It’s like I’ve taught you nothing.”
She stood, dragging the sheet with her. “Tonight, then.”
He lifted her chin with his knuckles, his thumb tracing over her lower lip before he dipped his head and kissed her one last time. “Esta noche,” he murmured. “Te amo.”
He turned to leave.
Behind him, Julia made a strangled noise. “Wait. Did you just say you love me?”
He paused in the doorway, a slow grin spreading across his face. “I thought you said you didn’t speak Spanish?”