There is something masochistic in what he does, knowing that he won’t be able to experience immediate relief. We both know it. And we both want it. We’ve become addicted to the things we chase and can’t have.
His skin burns.
I drag my hand down to the root of his neck and much lower to his chest. I sneak my fingers inside his neckline and trail an invisible path to the top of his stomach, unbuttoning his shirt.
“What are you doing, baby…?” he asks, his breath clipped, smiling, amusement threading through his voice.
“I want to touch you,” I say, drowsy, removed from my surroundings.
He leans toward me and whispers in my ear.
“I want to touch you too…” he breathes. “I want to touch you between your legs. And I want to eat you out. I’m sure he did it. And he made you come… I want you to come for me like that, baby.”
I squeeze him hard, my heart racing, sweat collaring my neck when I feel a presence, a stare, to be exact.
We both do, so he straightens, breaks away from me, and adjusts himself while I peel my hand away as if I wasn’t pumping his dick.
I turn my back to the guests, and he moves next to me, facing the ocean as well, when heels tap the deck behind us, and before long, a woman passes us by, heading to her man.
She looks at Alejandro yet says nothing. I’m pretty sure he knows the dark-haired woman just got a glimpse of us.
He doesn’t flinch. She goes away. I move my focus to the ocean.
“You still didn’t tell me who she is,” I say, flicking my gaze to him.
He looks over his shoulder as if confirming that it was her.
“Ex-lover? Ex-wife?” I suggest.
He clicks his tongue.
“You’ve never hooked up with her?” I ask incredulously.
“No.”
“How come?”
He adjusts his package again.
“I saw how she looked at you. You talked to her,” I say.
“Yes, I did.”
His smile vanishes.
“She’s lucky I didn’t kill her.”
He says those words seriously, and I freeze.
“You, um… You seemed friendly toward her.”
He cracks a dark grin.
“So I didn’t kill her.”
“She has the hots for you.”
“She does. And that’s the problem.”