I’m getting attached when I shouldn’t be. I don’t want to mess everything up. Emilio’s only concern should be Luis. I’m not his responsibility. We need rules. Boundaries.
But … his words from earlier this week come to me.
Date me.
Would that be such a bad thing?
Emilio’s eyes darken when I still don’t answer, and his thumb drags along my jawline. “Mariposa?”
He hasn’t called me that since…
“Why did you call me that?” I ask and yeah, I’m avoiding his question. I’m woman enough to admit it. Doesn’t mean I’m going to feel bad about it.
The corners of his mouth quirk up. “Because the night we met, you decided to spread your wings and fly. You transformed from the shy prep-school girl into a sexy-as-sin vixen.Mi mariposa.”My butterfly.
My breath hitches. “A moth,” I correct for no real reason. I know mariposa translates to butterfly in Spanish, but I need to dispel this moment.
Emilio dips his head toward me, his warm breath skating across my cheek.
“Fine. You can be the most beautiful moth if you’d prefer.”
I swallow hard. How does he manage to make that sexy?
“Do you remember that night? How good we were together?”
I gasp when he leans even closer, his stubble scraping along my skin. Heat rushes between my legs and my thighs clench as memories assail me. That night was so much more than I’d expected.
A strong arm wraps around my waist and pulls me flush against his chest, and his free hand cups my jaw, right before his lips press against mine. My heart pounds in my chest as his mouth teases my own. Sucking in a breath, I pull back before the kiss can go much further.
“Emilio—?”
His eyes are hooded and glazed with desire. “Don’t. Don’t overthink this. I want you. And I’m pretty sure you want me too.”
I exhale in a rush as Emilio’s hands find their way to the back of my head, tangling in my hair. He tugs me toward him again, his lips an open invitation I’m not strong enough to deny. I didn’t realize how badly I craved him. How much deeper my need for him has grown these past few days.
I sag against him, allowing the kiss to deepen, and the next thing I know, he’s lifting me onto the kitchen counter and wedging himself between my thighs, the height just enough to line our bodies up perfectly. He devours me as though starved, his kisses deep and hungry. His tongue slips past my defenses, the taste of sweet oranges and chili an addictive flavor I can’t seem to get enough of.
For a second, I consider pushing him away, but then he groans into my mouth, his hard length pressing against my center, and any thoughts of putting an end to this escape me.
“Emilio,” I breathe. “God, you feel so good.” Oh my god, did I just say that out loud?
“Fuck,” he moans. “I can’t get enough of you.” His fingers slip under the hem of my sweatshirt and the next thing I know he has it tugged up and over my head. I gasp as cool air hits my overheated skin and my arms instantly wrap around my middle to cover myself.
He pulls back, a furrow between his brows as I tear my gaze away from him, hunching my shoulders in a vain attempt to hide my body. This was a mistake.
“Hey.”
I turn, my eyes scanning the room for my sweater, but he’s thrown it on the floor behind him and out of reach.
“Bibiana?”
“I need my sweater,” I tell him, hoping he’ll grab it and give it back to me. He doesn’t. Instead, he takes two steps back, folds his arms across his chest and stares at me. My nursing bra isn’t sexy. It’s simple. A black full coverage bra that hooks in the back and has snaps above each cup for easy access should Luis get hungry. It’s not what I would have chosen if I knew anyone else was going to see it, but it’s not the worst bra I could be wearing either. At least this one has shape and isn’t one of those uni-boob sports bra types that I happen to have buried in my drawers.
What I’m more worried about is that I didn’t have a shirt on underneath my sweater, so not only is my bra on full display, but so is the rest of my body and it isn’t pretty. It isn’t…what he’s used to. The body he’s seen before.
My cheeks heat in the worst possible way and I blink back my complete and utter humiliation, refusing to cry over something like this. Stupid hormones. Come on, Bibi. Pull yourself together.
“What happened just now?”
