“Ay, we have got to stop winding up like this on front porches,” she muttered, her voice muffled.
Alejandro laughed, the sound rumbling from his chest into her ear. The faint smell of his cologne mixed with his body heat and suddenly all she could think about was nuzzling him with her nose. Kissing her way up his chest and neck to his lips. Letting her hands roam the curves and dips of his broad chest and back.
But despite her raging hormones where he was concerned, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to mess up their friendly truce by adding sex to the mix. Did she?
No.
Yes.
No?
Hell, maybe.
“I swear I am a lot more coordinated than these annoying crutches make me appear,” he groused.
“Well, the jury’s still deliberating that one, based on the evidence of your free fall in the rainforest, not to mention this is the second time I’ve rescued you from falling,” she teased, relying on humor to mask the uncertainty plaguing her.
His chuckle sent a puff of warm breath whispering across her forehead.
She peeked up at him. The light blue sky with its cotton ball clouds was the perfect frame for his dark hair and bronze skin. His prickly scruff gave him a roguish appeal, like he needed more help in the appeal department anyway. The eyes she knew almost as well as her own stared intently down at her, awareness heating their depths.
She wanted to give in to her lustful thoughts. She wanted to push him away before she got hurt again. She wanted to drag him inside and have wild, crazy makeup sex. Bueno, as wild as a man with a fractured tibia shaft could safely have, but she didn’t mind being inventive.
And then . . . then, what?
The question whispered from the logical side of her brain. The one wisely working to shut down the wanton parts of her body screaming for his attention.
And then what?
As if he somehow saw the inner battle she fought reflected on her face, Alejandro splayed a hand on the doorframe, then straightened his elbow, lifting his weight off her.
Anamaría shifted out from under him, instantly missing his warmth. Struggling with how to squash the swarm of desire building inside her for this man whose dispute with his father, and his own wanderlust, compelled him to leave again.
Dios mío, what was she doing bringing him here? To her home. The one place on the island that didn’t have his mark. The one place devoid of any memories of them together.
Once he walked through this door, that would no longer be true. She’d have nowhere to go that didn’t remind her of him.
“Sorry about that,” he mumbled, giving her smattering of flower pots the stink eye. “What’s with all these plants, anyway? You opening up a garden shop as a second side hustle or something?”
“Not funny,” she answered, crouching down to pick up her key ring.
She rose and thumbed through her keys in search of the one for her house, her stomach clenched with unease. Her hand trembled as she slid the key in the lock. Of course, the temperamental thing stuck. She’d been meaning to spray a little WD-40 in the keyhole but kept putting the chore off for later. Sucking her teeth with irritation, she grabbed the knob with her left hand, jiggled the key with her right, bending over to get a better look.
“Here, let me try.” Alejandro stepped closer and his hip bumped her butt.
She jerked to a stand as if he’d prodded her with a hot poker.
“You okay?” he asked.
Her heart pounding, she spun around to face him. “You really want to know?”
“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
His confused frown left her wondering if she might be the only person standing here with one foot stuck in the past and the other in the present.
Overhead, a military jet from the nearby Boca Chica naval air base roared by, leaving a wispy white contrail across the blue sky. She watched it dissipate, wishing her feelings for him would fade away so easily. Hurt by the thought that his for her actually had.
The mix of desire and despair overwhelmed her and she let her eyes drift closed, blocking out his ruggedly handsome face.
“Hey, what’s going on? Talk to me.” Alejandro’s fingers lightly caressed her jawline, then softly tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear.
The concern in his voice paired with the intimacy of his touch, reached inside her soul to push her over the edge of reason.
“Coño, I’m frustrated! Okay?”
He blinked several times, clearly dumbfounded by her outburst.
She huffed her annoyance and swatted his chest. “I’m frustrated with you for being so hardheaded. With your dad for being such a hard-ass. And with myself for still wanting you so damn badly I can’t even unlock my fucking door.”
Her words were like a grenade dropped on the porch floor. Shocking them both. Several tense seconds ticked by. His jaw muscles tightened, his piercing eyes locked on hers. She licked her bottom lip nervously, then tugged it between her teeth to avoid spewing another embarrassing revelation. His hungry gaze dropped to her mouth and all she could think about was her all-consuming need to feel his lips. On hers. Now.
“Ale,” she whispered, his name more a longing-filled sigh that lit the fuse of their desire.
His crutches clattered to the floor as he pulled her against him. His firm lips covered hers, and she willingly opened for him, wanting, needing, to taste him.
His tongue brushed hers, slow and languid, stroking and tangling, and she moaned with pleasure. He tasted like sin and sweetness with a hint of the lime he’d squeezed in his water at the restaurant.
He cupped her face, angling her head to deepen the kiss. Her hands trailed down his chest, exploring the changes in his physique, desire building at her core. Reaching his waist, her fingers hooked on his belt loops, tugging their lower bodies flush. Desperate to satisfy this need to be one with him again.
His lips broke from hers to trail a line of heated kisses up her jaw. He nibbled on her earlobe, sucking it into his mouth, then blowing a soft breath in her ear. His hands spanned her rib cage, his thumbs gently grazing the underside of her breasts. Lust shot through her, making her clit throb for his touch, and she arched backward, bumping her head on the door. Her pelvis thrust against him, her body seeking his, reveling in the hard length of his erection.
A car door slammed in the parking lot below.
Alejandro pressed his forehead to hers, their heavy breaths mingling in the small space between.
“Unless we wanna put on a show for your neighbors, we should get inside.” He rocked his pelvis against hers imitating the act they both craved. His thumbs swept over the underside of her breasts again and her nipples pebbled, anxious for his attention.
The sound of female voices trickled through Anamaría’s lust-filled brain. The fact that she and Alejandro stood on her front porch, their intimacy in full view of anyone on the street or parking lot, slowly registered. Along with the voice of sanity determined to squelch her fun.
Letting him inside would mean giving in to her craving for him. While also knowing her heart would have to let him go, eventually.
Could she do that?
“Hey, it’s okay if we put on the brakes.” Alejandro rubbed his knuckle across her chin, circling the little mole below the right side of her mouth. The one he used to like to—he dipped down and pressed a chaste kiss on her mole. The sweetness of his move, the reminder of how incredible he used to make her feel . . . how incredible he had made her feel right now . . . tipped her over the edge.
“We can back off,” he continued. “Stay . . . I don’t know . . . whatever we are. Friends. If that’s what you want.”
Friends.
It was better than the nothing they’d had for almost twelve years.
Was that enough? Is that all she wanted?
They had parted terribly as kids years ago. Neither able nor ready to admit the fact that forever wasn’t for them.
Now they were adults. Could they fin
d a better way?
Enjoy being together during whatever time they had. Saying good-bye without the heartache and acrimony.
No more what-ifs. No more what might have beens.
Only right here. Right now. Eyes wide open. Grabbing what they desired and deserved.
Anamaría slid her hand down his forearm to hook their fingers. “I don’t want to put the brakes on.”
He stared at their joined hands for several breath-stealing seconds before he glanced up at her, hope swimming in his eyes as he studied her.
“I have an idea,” she said. “A really good idea.”
The roguish grin of his that curled her toes and sent tingles to secret places flashed. “I’m listening.”
“You and I. We have some . . . some unfinished business. What if we simply enjoy our time together? And when you leave, this time, no hard feelings. No regrets.”
Her heart pounded in her chest at her bold offer.
Alejandro’s intent gaze searched hers. “Are you sure? The last thing I want is to hurt you.”
Bueno, she didn’t want that, either.
But what good would come from denying herself? Maybe what she needed in order to finally move on was closure. The healthy kind of closure. On equal terms.
Stepping toward him, she brought their joined hands to her chest.
“We didn’t get things right the first go-round. This time, we can. I know what I want, so I’ll be fine. What about you?”
Desire flared in his dark eyes. “Princesa, I screwed it up before. But there’s never been any doubt about what I want. You.” He ducked down to steal a kiss, speaking his next words against her lips. “If you’d hurry up and open this damn door, I’ll show you how fine I can be, too.”
“Ay, that ego of yours. It just might get you into trouble.”
“The best kind of trouble. Now, are you going to let me in, or are we gonna keep scandalizing your neighbors?”
* * *
Like one of his late-night fantasies come to life, Anamaría pushed her front door open, reached down to grab his crutches, and handed them to him. As soon he was situated, she stepped backward into her town house and crooked a finger for him to follow.
Alejandro didn’t need to be asked twice.
He step-swung inside, desire for her fueling him.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” she said, spreading an arm out to encompass the first floor, with a little wave at the stairs along the left side heading up to the second level.
He let his gaze roam around the long, open space that comprised the kitchen, dining, and living areas, ending with a wide window and door to what looked like another small porch on the back.
“Two bedrooms, two and a half baths, almost twelve hundred square feet that are all mine.” The pride in her voice reminded him of the way he’d felt during his first exhibit. Man, how he wished she would have been there.
Now she was offering them a chance to have what they’d dreamed about as teens. For a little while at least. Which was way the hell better than the fat fucking nothing they’d had all these years.
“I like it,” he mused.
His gaze trailed around the main floor, landing on the little touches that spoke of her. The collage of family pictures stuck to the white refrigerator-freezer. The NutriBullet on the gray Formica counter, used in the smoothie recipe videos he’d watched on her website. A pair of black Kinos and tan pair of chanclas set neatly by the door exactly like at her parents’, the slip-on sandals ready for a quick trip outside to take out the trash or grab a forgotten item in the car.
Or meet up with your boyfriend when he swung by for a midnight rendezvous after the parents were asleep. Not that she had to worry about that anymore. But the shared memory made him smile. And grow hard anticipating their uninterrupted fun ahead.
He moved deeper into the house, past a light oak breakfast table for four with navy accents, the same color as the textured, woven fabric of a sofa sectional with a chaise on the far end. The perfect place to stretch out and elevate his leg. Or continue what they had started on her porch.
Hoofing it like an invalid with one good leg up the stairs to her bedroom was not the kind of foreplay he had in mind. But if—shit, he was hoping for more like when—Anamaría gave him the “go” signal, he planned to let her take the lead. He’d scale those stairs if need be.
“Do you want something to drink? Water, Gatorade?” She opened the fridge and scanned the inside while she asked.
“I’m good, thanks.” Good getting a feel for her sanctuary. Committing it all to memory so he could picture her here when he was alone, missing her.
There weren’t many knickknacks or dust collectors as she used to call the figures and mementos her mom kept around their house, but enough touches to make the place homey. A few family photographs in black frames were arranged along the stair wall where the door to a half bath stood slightly ajar. In the living room area, he spotted a Women’s Health magazine and a MacBook Pro laptop, its shiny blue protective case decorated with an AM Fitness sticker, both resting on a small black coffee table.
He perused the framed candid photos of her and her family, soaking up the events and moments he wasn’t a part of because he hadn’t been there.
“Whose birthday was this?” he asked, pointing to one of her and her brothers gathered around the dinner table, a cake with candles in the center.
“Luis’s. Three years ago, pre-Sara.” She held up a framed photo on the entertainment stand next to what looked like a fifty-inch TV. “These two handfuls are José and Ramón, Carlos and Gina’s boys, at the beach with Lulu and me. Here’s one after the mass celebrating Mami and Papi’s thirty-fifth anniversary earlier this year.”
The peek into her world proved bittersweet. Images of the fulfilling life she led without him, but instead with those he could count on to make sure she was okay when he was gone.
“I take it Mallory Square’s still one of your favorite hangout spots?” He gestured toward the large print of the Sunset Celebration ritual popular with locals and tourists alike.
“Uh-huh. The energetic hum of life juxtaposed with the calm inevitability of the setting sun.”
Kind of how he felt with her—alive with emotion and yet, at peace.
His attention caught on two vivid original paintings. One of Higgs Beach at sunrise and the other of a fishing boat much like her papi’s, the Salvación, out on the open ocean. Both took up the short wall that butted up against the angling stairs. The initials EN were slashed in the bottom right corner of each painting, identifying them as Enrique’s work.
“I’m surprised you have these. I thought he wasn’t selling or even displaying his pieces anymore,” Alejandro said, awed by her brother’s talent.
Anamaría joined him in front of the paintings. “He only gifts them now. And even that’s not too often. It’s such a shame because he’s so freaking talented.”
“I’m going to get that story out of him sometime. Right now though, there are more important things that have my attention.” He tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, let his touch linger over her jaw.
“The place feels like you,” he said, taking in the potted ferns and exercise bike angled so she could watch the television, probably the romantic comedies she had dragged him to all the time. “It’s comfortable. Homey.”
“Thank you, I think?” Her nose scrunched in a cute grimace. “Not sure many women like being described as homey or comfortable, but my house thanks you for the compliment.”
He chuckled as he leaned his crutches against the sofa, then sank onto the top of the back cushion.
“How about gorgeous?” he suggested.
She tapped her chin, her brow furrowed in an exaggerated frown, as if she were considering his response.
“Sexy as hell?” he tried again.
Her naughty grin had his blood pulsing to his crotch, his body ready and willing for whatever sinful ideas had her eyes lighting with mischief.
/> “Killing me with how far away you are?” The truth in his words stole the banter from his voice, leaving it a raw, need-filled plea he should have been ashamed to reveal. Instead, he held his palm out to her, a silent request for her to join him.
“Well, when you put it like that.” Her teasing smile widened, and she moved toward him.
He caught her nervous swallow. Noted the way her fingers flexed, relaxed, then flexed again at her sides. Yet her gaze never wavered from his.
“Are we crazy for doing this? For wanting this?” She placed a hand on his shoulder, stepping closer to stand in between his legs. “For taking what we can have now and saying good-bye in a better way when the time comes?”
The uncertainty marring her brow tugged at his need to make her feel safe.
“Hey.” He took her other hand in his. Softly caressed the back of hers with his thumb. “If you’re unsure about this . . . if you have any doubts . . . we backpedal. I’ll hang out, rest my leg on your comfy chaise.” He tipped his head to the extended couch behind them. “We can check out today’s pictures like we planned. But this, us—”
Lifting their joined hands, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “It only happens if we both want it.” He kissed the back of her hand again, his gaze holding hers intently. “I know I do. But that’s not enough. And it’s absolutely okay if you want, or need, to hit pause.”
Her eyes searched his intently, as if the answers she sought would be found there. He channeled his love for her, needing to reassure her of his commitment to doing what was right for her this time around. To put her first, like he should have done before, instead of pushing her to follow him, then letting their relationship end in a ball of flames that had left them both destroyed.
“The smart decision might be to pause,” she murmured.
For a heart-stopping second, he thought it was game over. Back to tentative friends. Retreat to their separate corners, alone.
Anchored Hearts Page 24