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“I introduced myself, gave him my affiliation with Black Home Security, and asked him to keep an eye out for suspicious characters.” His eyes bored into hers. “I don’t know if you’re in any real danger, Emma. Until we find Toby and debrief him, we have to take precautions.”
Toby. A missing Toby and small earthquakes in the market. Small earthquakes going on inside her at Raul’s nearness as they rose up to her apartment to … to what?
It was so hard to think with Raul so close. Hard to plan, hard to think of what was next. What was next was in the future and the here and now took up all of her hard disk.
She was overwhelmed with sensations, had no idea what to do, what to say. She was silent as they exited the elevator as one, Raul’s hand on her lower back, his other holding her key. He’d held his hand out in the elevator and she’d instinctively known what he wanted. He opened her door, ushered her over the threshold, flicked the light switch.
She felt heavy, could only move slowly. She moved a few steps into the living room, eyes falling on the silver platter holding a few bottles of good liquor.
“Do you – do you want a drink?”
He nodded, his hand falling from her back.
She poured them both a few fingers and handed him his glass. He brought it to his mouth and she did, too. But they both stopped before sipping it. She put her glass back down on the sideboard.
“This isn’t what I want,” she whispered.
“God, no,” he said, putting his own drink down and pulling her to him.
Thiswas what she wanted. This. Putting her arms around that strong, lean body, his mouth on hers. No one around them, nothing to interrupt them. Raul felt so good, tall and strong and so solid.
He was kissing her so deeply, it felt like she’d never been kissed before. Certainly it was the first time she’d been kissed like this, as if they would both die if they were pulled apart.
He held her head between his big hands, but it didn’t make her feel controlled. She felt infused with some strong hot wind that would carry her away if she weren’t held to earth with those hands.
Raul pulled away, head tilted back, eyes closed. His head fell forward and he opened his eyes, heat blazing from them. “God,” he said, blowing out a breath. “I don’t know where to begin.”
She understood completely. She wanted to continue those kisses that made her feel dreamy, untethered, ready to float away. At the same time, she wanted to rip his shirt off and touch that strong chest all over.
“Start from the top.” She smiled at him, loving every second of this. She felt excited, as if her skin could barely contain her. But she also felt crazy relaxed, safe in his arms.
She’d spent the past week scared and worried, anxiety thrumming beneath her skin. Nothing like that now. Holding Raul, being held by him, was to sink into a state where nothing bad could happen to her. Just insane pleasure allowed. The closer to him she got, the more intense the pleasure.
“The top,” Raul whispered, and pulled the pins anchoring her hair to the top of her head. Her hair tumbled to her shoulders.
Raul tunneled his hands through her hair, lifting a strand to his face. “It’s cool. I keep expecting it to be hot.”
His hands moved to her neck and unzipped her dress, leaving the two panels open. Her skin was so hot she welcomed the slight coolness of the air on her bare skin. But then he placed his palm between her shoulder blades and her skin burned again. Even the air she was breathing burned her lungs.
Kissing her, Raul opened her dress further, slipping it off her shoulders, slipping it to the floor. She felt the light linen pool at her feet, standing in a strapless bra and panties, glad she’d splurged on the pale green lacy underwear. Watching Raul watching her was worth it.
His eyes were narrowed, nostrils flaring. He was affected, but so was she. His gaze was like hands touching her. Her breasts felt swollen, between her legs it felt like a furnace had been lit.
Raul’s eyes met hers. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said, his voice raw, as if he hadn’t spoken in days.
Emma had been told she was beautiful before, but not like this, not as if the words had been wrenched out of him. Before, it had felt like a polite compliment, almost a rote compliment. Something that had to be said, essentially, to get into her pants.
This wasn’t like that. This felt like it came from someplace deep inside Raul, like a confession.
His hands went to the back of her bra and stilled.
“Is this what you want?” His voice was strained, hands frozen. She was sure that if she saidno, I don’t want this,he’d stop. But the last thing she wanted was for him to stop.
Emma’s hands were on his chest and she wanted to rip that elegant jacket and starched white shirt right off him. All evening she’d wondered what he’d look like naked, whether he had heavy chest hair or light chest hair. She’d have taken a bet that he didn’t manscape.
She pressed a kiss over his heart. “It’s what I want but not where I want. I think we should be in the bedroom, don’t you? We – oh!”
He’d picked her up and was carrying her, with no apparent difficulty, down the corridor. She’d never been carried as an adult and oh God. It was luscious, liberating, like flying. No wonder it featured in so many movies and books. Like being queen of the world, asexyqueen of the world. Though there weren’t that many men who could carry a full-grown woman without breaking a sweat.
