Clutch Hit

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Clutch Hit Page 21

by Faith O'Shea


  Having no idea what kind of television shows she would have found, she asked, “What do Cubans watch?”

  “Not much besides drug-lord dramas and soaps.”

  “American shows not allowed?”

  “Actually, no, but it doesn’t mean we don’t have access. There’s what they call the packet, which contains maybe a dozen shows, distributed on a flash drive through an illegal network.”

  The black market seemed to have tentacles everywhere.

  “No Netflix or Hulu?”

  “Netflix, yes, but the monthly fee for the installments cost more than what Cubans make in a week. Not many can afford it.”

  He was pulling into the underground garage at the condo. He’d gotten here without the GPS or any help from her. He was certainly a quick study in all things American.

  As they were riding the elevator up to his floor, she vocalized something she’d been thinking since setting down in Havana.

  “Being there was like being in a time warp. You might have been addicted to I Love Lucy because there were some similarities to Cuban life.”

  “Ricky Ricardo played at the Copacabana. They have something like it in Camagüey so there was a feeling of going home. Yes.”

  He opened the door for her, and she walked in, feeling instantly at home. It made her wary.

  “I will put this in your room. You can unpack it later. You said there were some things we needed to talk about when you got back. I would like to hear what you have to say.”

  She had told him that. When she thought they might need to stay married until he was naturalized. Now, being here, feeling too much a part of his life, wanting to feel his arms around her and burn the sheets, she wasn’t sure it would be wise. But when he brushed past her, the sparks were electric. Throwing wise out the window might be the way to go.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Mateo pushed up the sleeves of his new sweater. He’d gone to the mall after all, thinking a couple of new things wouldn’t be out of order. The choices had overwhelmed him, and it had taken the advice of the salesperson to help him finally decide on what to buy. She was overly solicitous, and it wouldn’t have taken more than a smile to snag her number. A year ago, he would have, but not now, not when he was anticipating a much more pleasurable pursuit. He knew there was sexual tension between him and Allie, and by the way she winced when he walked past her moments ago, he hoped she’d be willing to surrender to it.

  She was standing by the window looking out over the harbor when he came out, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle. She turned and the heat in her eyes told him she might almost be there.

  “New sweater?”

  “Yes. Do you like it?”

  “I do. When did you get it?”

  “This morning before I went to pick you up. Don’t worry. I didn’t lose my head. I wanted some warmer clothes that didn’t include suits and shirts.”

  They’d been in such a hurry when she’d taken him shopping, he had bought only the essentials for the wake, funeral, and road trips. This morning he took his time, bought a few other things he thought he’d need over the next few months.

  “I should have—”

  “It was a pleasant experience. I got to see what is out there to buy. Do we have a gaming system?”

  “No. Is it something you want?”

  “Seb has one. I am learning to play.”

  “I guess it wouldn’t hurt anything to have one here, but they’re banned in the clubhouse.”

  “I can understand why. They can be addictive.”

  Like her. She was in his blood and he wanted to drink in her passion.

  He moved closer, knowing he had to take his time and not spook her. The urge to touch was too strong, and he reached out to brush his fingers against her cheek.

  She didn’t pull back and it gave him the courage to ask, “If we are going to stay married, at least for now, are you sure you want to avoid the marital bed?”

  She was mindlessly stroking her arm when she grimaced. “I’m not sure about anything. I thought this would be so simple. I get you here. We separate. You live your life, I live mine.”

  “But?”

  “It’s not simple anymore.”

  Hope surged in his chest.

  “Why is that?”

  She was becoming agitated, her gaze bouncing from place to place, evading him completely.

  “Because for some ungodly reason, I feel married.”

  His heart bubbled with a swell of emotion. “It is the same for me. Where is the problem?”

  “I can’t jump into someone else’s bed while I feel that way, and that doesn’t leave room for… a hook-up.”

  Needing to know, he looked at her with unflinching directness and asked, “Do you hook-up often?”

  Her eyes met his and held.

  “No.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You seemed willing in Cancun.”

  She dipped her head, cleared her throat and said, “I’ve been in somewhat of a drought and I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

  He couldn’t help but smile. The drought part might work in his favor.

  “And yet here I am.”

  Her eyes fluttered closed and she said under her breath, “And here you are.”

  He took that moment to lean in for a kiss. It was gentle, tender, but the taste of her filled him with a need he wasn’t sure he could deny. He leaned his forehead against hers.

  “I would like very much like to make love to you. Will you let me?”

  He’d been fantasizing about that for months but unless she was willing…

  When he felt her hands on his face, a shiver ran down his spine. When she guided his head away from hers, he fell into her cat-like eyes. When she fit her lips to his, the blood in his veins went hot and molten. Heat curled tight in his gut, threatening his control.

  He shifted, caressing the line of her back with his fingers as the kiss deepened. There was an unexpected measure of wildness in her response and it enflamed him further. He wasn’t sure he could take this slowly, like he wanted to, needed to. If she suddenly decided that this was a mistake, backed away from him, it would all but kill him.

  Testing the waters, he exerted a more provocative pressure on her lips and when they parted, he invaded the sweet sanctuary of her mouth. Her tongue danced with his, a dance of passion, lust, and hopefully love.

  He groaned, needing more of her. His hands moved slowly, sensually, up her back, sliding his thumb against the swell of her breast. She moaned, and those luscious lips wandered over him, trailing kisses along his jaw, nipping his neck with love bites. He began to push her sweater up, inch by slow, agonizing inch, and when she raised her arms, giving him permission, he lifted up and off.

  His eyes burned into hers as he unclasped her bra and slipped the straps off her shoulders, letting it fall to the carpeted floor. Then they dropped to take her in. Her nipples were taut, the naked globes of flesh tantalizing. He wanted to bury his face there and never come up, not for air, not even for baseball.

  Her hands were on his face again, lifting his head so she could meet his gaze.

  “If I give myself to you, you have to promise—”

  His breath was ragged when he interrupted. “How can I be anything but faithful? You are my wife, and you are exquisite.”

  The sentiment hadn’t erased her look of vulnerability. He wanted to convince her he wouldn’t betray those vows, that he’d waited his whole life for her. Words could not convey what he felt, so he’d let his body tell her.

  Burying his face in the valley between her breasts, he drew one nipple at a time into his mouth, savoring the tempting morsels, his hunger for her a ravaged need. They had tightened into pebbles, and in his greed, he covered a mound with a firm, wet mouth, and when she shuddered, he claimed the other. After he’d sampled each one, he stood back, the glistening peaks arching out to him for more. He took them in his hands and scraped his palms over them, spreading the moisture in one sensual pa
th down her chest and around her back until she was covered in his saliva.

  “Eres mi esposa y te llenaré de mi amor.”

  Whether she knew what he’d whispered or not, the endearment had prompted her to kiss him possessively, as if she wanted to fill him with her love as well.

  She pulled at his sweater, her movements frantic, and he obliged her by stripping it off in one motion. Her hands claimed his chest, her mouth now on his nipple, first one, then the other, the kisses hungry and hurried. With lust-glazed eyes, she studied him, her fingers now tracing his shoulders, his biceps, his abs, with reverence.

  Her voice shook with emotion. “You are beautiful, Mateo. I guessed you would be, but my imagination failed to capture just how much.”

  He wrapped his arms loosely around her, bent to whisper in her ear, “I am yours, mi amor. All of me, yours for the taking.”

  She threaded her fingers in the mat of hair on his chest, her nails scratching the surface, and when they traveled lower and her thumbs hooked in his waist band, he sucked in his breath.

  More heat rushed to his loins, already thick with blood. When she unsnapped his jeans and began to pull his zipper down, he stood stock-still, afraid to breathe. When his pants were at his feet, he stepped out of them and stood in full naked glory, his penis engorged and throbbing.

  Her brows were drawn together, her lips parted as she examined him. It was only when she touched him that he thought he’d died and gone to heaven. He took her hand, and he rasped out, “I’m close, mi amor. And I want to be inside you when I come.”

  He lifted her in his arms, carried her to his bedroom, and placed her tenderly on the bed. He worked her pants off so she lay open to him. The musk of her scent seeped into his soul, and he bent down so he could taste the honey. As he dragged his tongue over her and toyed with the wet heat he found, he knew he was about to experience the light that was blazing inside her essence.

  He buried himself inside of her as deeply as he could, one slow thrust at a time. She writhed beneath him, until they began to rock, stroke after sensuous stroke, nudging them toward the edge. Her silky sex rubbed against him, the ridge of his sex near to exploding from the delicious friction. When the first tremors began, he found himself lost in her. Her spasms shook him to his core, her whimper weakened his control, and as if on cue, they tumbled together into pleasure, the quakes not subsiding until neither had anything left to give.

  Sweat glistened, all but gluing their bodies as one, and he found it impossible to move away from her. When her arms ensnared his neck, he dropped soft kisses on her face.

  Her voice was shaking when she said, “Don’t go anywhere. Not yet.”

  “I didn’t intend to. I think I have found my place in life. There is nothing left of me that isn’t yours.”

  She hid her face in his shoulder. There wasn’t much of her left, either. He’d taken possession of every particle and cell in her body, taken her higher than she’d ever been before, but she could not succumb to falling in love. Not with him. She was surer than ever; she’d be devastated when he cast her aside.

  “Please don’t say things like that.”

  “You don’t want me to speak the truth?”

  I can’t afford to fall for you. It will turn out badly for one of us.

  She knew it was her own heart she was trying to protect, but after the way he’d just made love to her, the coating she’d kept in place for years had chipped.

  “We have today, Mateo. And maybe tomorrow.”

  He kissed her forehead, tucked her against his chest, and rested his head on hers.

  “That is really all there is.”

  Was he admitting they had no future? Did he know that, as he found his footing here, he’d no longer need her presence?

  As if reading her mind, he offered an explanation. “Every morning we rise, it is today. We live each moment in the present. There is no yesterday or tomorrow. Only the now. Perhaps you guard too rigidly against the future and have dragged too much fear from the past. Let that all go. You are safe here in my arms.”

  If only she could believe it, she might have a chance…for what? True love? Did that even exist? Love didn’t mean happily ever after. Just look at Casey. Look at her father? It meant heartbreak for them.

  Her eyes fluttered close. Mateo had wrung her dry and she didn’t have the energy to fight the feeling of bliss she’d been left with. In this moment, she did feel safe. She cuddled closer and his arm tightened around her, even as he faded into sleep.

  She woke to darkness, her growing hunger fed by the intimacy of their tangled bodies. She wanted more of him, more of what he’d given her. It had been a true joining of souls, something she’d never understood before. Knowing it might not last, giving in to the moment of need, she trailed her fingers over his chest, down his stomach until she felt the tight curls around his manhood. He jerked awake when her thumb brushed the tip of his penis and she began to stroke the rigid organ, which pulsed to the rhythm of her heartbeat.

  She needed to be filled by him again, with an urgency that stunned her. Moving over him, teasing his chest with her nipples, she adjusted her curves to the hard, muscular planes of his body. His erection throbbed between her legs, searing her. The fire began to flare when she eased herself down over his shaft and took him in. His hands had gone to her hips as she rode him, guiding the in-and-out motion, and she arched hungrily up to meet each stroke until her body surged over the crest. Her world had narrowed to one sensation as her body convulsed in pleasure, the contractions consuming her. When she heard his grunt and felt his release, the relentless surge as he spilled himself into her, she clung to him desperately.

  As she lay spent in his arms, her breathing ragged, a threat loomed over her.

  “We’ve got to start using protection. I can’t afford to get pregnant and I never asked if you…”

  “You are the first I’ve been with without wearing a condom. I should have thought of that when I was out this morning, but I never anticipated this.”

  He was cradling her, her head rested against his shoulder. She raised her eyes to him, a smile on her lips. “You might not have anticipated this, but it’s been your end goal since the beginning.”

  “I cannot lie. It has been. You are noise in my head, and I am delighting in it.”

  She knew what he meant. He was like the streets of Cuba, where noise meant life and vibrancy.

  It prompted the question, “Your mother said you always wore a smile, talked to everyone with light-hearted humor. You are not like that here. Is there a reason?”

  “Americans are different. They are not so open and easy to get to know. And I am in the process of proving my worth. It is serious business.”

  She stroked his cheek, the growth of stubble like sandpaper against her hand. Just another thing about him that made her jelly. Getting her mind off the texture and taste of him, she countered his comment, “You don’t have to bury yourself in it.”

  “The only thing I want to bury myself in is you.”

  The coil in her gut tightened at the thought. It didn’t take much for her to want him.

  “There’ll be no more burying until we have several boxes of condoms in your bedside table drawer.”

  “Then that will be my first errand tomorrow… rather later today. It is a new day. And we are still here. Do you see how this works?”

  She did. If all her todays were this good, she’d spend her life wrapped up in them.

  “Kiss me and then we can go to sleep.”

  “No kisses until…later. They tend to lead to other things.”

  She grabbed his hair and pulled his lips down to meet hers. “If that’s true, we’ll miss a lot of

  lip-locks and they’re too good to pass on.”

  He relented with a chuckle and gave her what she wanted. After turning on his side, he spooned her close, and with his arm possessively around her waist, she drifted off, a smile on her face.

  When she woke up again, he wa
s already gone, and something curdled in her stomach. After throwing the sheets off, she padded out to the kitchen to find him, but the silence that echoed throughout the condo was deafening.

  Where was he? Now that he had a license and a car and complete freedom, he could come and go as he pleased. That thought took up a lot of territory in her head, the ensuing battle about to begin. She retrieved her robe from her room, pulled it on and set about making coffee. Just as she was pouring the dark brew into her mug, he came through the door, a plastic bag clutched in his hand. With his free one, he took the mug and placed it on the counter and all but dragged her back to his bedroom.

  First, he extracted a box of Trojans, opened it, and took one out before tossing it on the bed.

  Then he kicked off his shoes, stripped out of his sweats and long-sleeved tee and reached under her robe to find the treasure beneath.

  “Now for that kiss…”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  By eleven o’clock the next morning, Allie was busy at work, answering the dozens of texts she’d received since she got back. She’d given him her night, and although he was still basking in it, he’d been left with some downtime. He began texting his friends, in too good a mood to sit and do nothing.

  Neither Seb nor Rique was getting back to him. He hadn’t heard from either of them since early yesterday morning, before his shopping expedition. It wasn’t like them to completely ignore him, and he’d worry if it wasn’t such a wimpish thing to do. They were guys. They could take care of themselves. Rique was in Brazil, looking for a wife, believe it or not. He should have been wooing Fiona and that he wasn’t was nuts. Had he found what he was searching for yet? Or had he realized he was on a fool’s errand? What would happen when he came back? Pick up where he left off? He’d have to wait to ask him.

 

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