“Er ... both,” I say, blushing.
“Then we will have to agree to disagree, sí?”
“Arturo,” I say evenly. But I stop mid-sentence because I don’t know why I’m fighting this. Any red-blooded woman would jump at the chance to go to bed with him. In fact, as he looks at me with those molten, Mexican sex god eyes, I’m beginning to wonder why I’m not any other red-blooded woman. But it’s complicated. I’m complicated. Gabe is complicated.We’re complicated.
I clear my throat. “You’re amazing. Kind and considerate and drop dead gorgeous—”
“Really?” he says as if he doesn’t already know this.
“But ... this isn’t a good idea.”
“I think it’s a brilliant idea. La mejor idea. I know what your ex-husband means to you. I’ve tried to be patient, to wait it out, and give you space, but I am a very selfish man. I have to have you.”
There they are—the four little words I’ve been wanting to hear from another human being for so long. “I need you.” Or, in Arturo’s case, with that thick accent and the toe-curling passion. “I have to have you.”
Those four little worlds are an oasis in the desert, water and sustenance to my starved and desiccated little heart. Those four little words become my undoing.
“Tell me you still want that. Tell me you still want me the way I want you, mi amor.” He leans in and his mouth hovers just inches from mine.
I swallow hard, taste the tequila on his breath, see my longing reflected in his gaze, and then his lips meet mine. His hands cup either side of my face and he’s off his stool and I’m off mine. His hands are in my hair, and mine slide into his, and our hungry mouths feast on one another. He walks us backward to the back of the restaurant, and we knock over chairs, rattle cutlery on tables as we pass. Hurried hands unfasten the tie at my waist and the tops of my breasts are exposed along with my lace bra. Arturo’s mouth leaves my own and travels down my neck to the hand that he cups over my breast. He doesn’t even bother to move the fabric out of the way, he just sucks the fabric into my mouth along with my nipple and I let out a cry and throw my head back, my hands grasping his hair to hold him in place.
My hands slip over his shoulders, scratch at his sweater, which I take personal offense to because I don’t understand why he’s still wearing it and is keeping me from all that gorgeous, bronzed skin. Arturo seems to grasp my meaning because he releases my nipple from his mouth and slides his stubble-rough jaw up the length of my neck and cheek, bringing my lips back to his as he hurriedly pulls off his clothing.Holy shit. I knew he was still in shape, you’d have to be a moron not to see that through the tight button-downs he wears daily, and the way the fabric cuts across his ass in those tight suit pants, but sweet baby Jesus, this man is fine. He reaches out and grips my neck, pulling me to him. I yank on his belt buckle and unfasten it, and then I remember we’re in front of the restaurant windows for all to see.
“We shouldn’t do this—”
“Don’t say it, mi amor. Don’t ruin me like that.”
“I meant here. We shouldn’t do this here.”
“You’re right. We shouldn’t.” He pulls me closer again, and then he walks us to the courtyard. His apartment only has access through the private beer garden, but we don’t even make it thatfar. Arturo places his hands on my waist and lifts me onto table nine where he slips my dress from my shoulders and tears my freaking bra right off. I’d read that in the past, or seen it in the movies and didn’t believe it was possible, but I stare down at my lacy bra now in pieces as Arturo cups my breasts in his hands.
He trails one hand lower, down my ribcage and abdomen, and slips his hand inside the waistband of my panties. The smile he gives me when he finds me wet for him is both beautiful and devastating. I spread my thighs and lean back, pressing my palms into the tabletop behind me to allow him better access. He eases his fingers inside, three at once without preamble, and uses the heel of his hand to rub my clit as he works my body into a panting, needy frenzy. I moan and rock my hips forward to meet his thrusts.
His free hand wraps around my throat and squeezes firmly. I throw my head back and ride his hand until I’m begging him to make me come. Arturo watches me closely, his warm breath washing across my face as he kisses and nips at my lips, and then right as I’m about to come, he darts out his tongue and licks the seam of my mouth, and I hurtle over the precipice I feel like I’ve been standing on for six goddamn years. He pulls his hand free of my pussy and sucks his fingers.Fuck, that’s hot.
“Maldita magia,” he whispers with a wicked smile.
I reach for him, tugging him closer by the waistband of his jeans. “You want magic? Then fuck me, Arturo. Finally sink yourself deep inside and have me.”
“Cristo, sálvame.”
He unfastens his jeans and pulls his dick free, giving it a few perfunctory pumps before moving closer, but I place my heel on his hip and push him back a little, wanting to see more of him stroking his beautiful dick. Arturo seems to grasp my intent, because his eyes smolder, and he obliges, beating himself hard and fast as I slip my panties aside and play with my slick clit.
He groans. “You are driving me fucking wild, mi corazón.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Sí.” He nods and quits his stroking, moving closer to whisper in my ear. “And as much as I love watching you play with your cunt, I’d rather be in it.”
I grasp his dick and slowly slide my hand up and down his shaft. “Then what are you waiting for?”
Arturo bites my bottom lip and lines himself up at my entrance, and then he plunges deep inside, right to the root.
“Oh fuck!”
He groans and cradles my chin between his thumb and forefinger, it’s a demanding gesture, but his touch is tender. His eyes, though? They’re anything but. Arturo demands my gaze, his eyes boring into mine, and I don’t dare look away. He intensifies his pace, thrusting into me with furor as he holds me completely captive. “You’re right, your pussy is magic.”
I chuckle, but my laughter quickly dies on my lips as he spears me on his cock. “Oh, god! Arturo.”