Anything. He’d promise her anything right now, as long as she let him run his tongue all over her.
“Promise me no matter what happens, you’ll try to stay my friend. This ends, this turns out to be a colossal mistake, we both make an effort to get things back to the way they were before.”
There was a glimmer of fear in her eyes, and he wanted to wipe it away. He kissed her softly. “I can promise you that. You suck in bed, we’ll do everything we can to put it behind us.”
“I suck in bed? What about you, buddy? I happen to be awesome in bed. Amazing. Outstanding. I’ll blow your mind, and then I’ll melt what’s left over.”
He chuckled, sliding one hand over the length of her thigh. Skimming his lips along the curve of her neck, he nibbled at the delicate skin. “Someone’s full of herself.” He enjoyed the catch in her breathing way too much. He bit down a little harder, soothing the sting with his tongue.
She groaned, her head dropping back, and he wanted to move his hands, pull the pins from her hair so the waves flowed down her back. He licked the pulse point at her throat.
“Stop,” she said. Her head came up, lust and fear flickering over her face, her breathing ragged. She unwound her legs and he hissed as she slid down his body. “I wanted to go out to dinner.”
If waiting meant her desire would eliminate her lingering hesitations, he’d wait. “Any place special?”
She slumped against the wall. “Did you bring anything nice to wear?”
“Define nice.”
Instead of responding, she dug into his suitcase, which he hadn’t bothered to unpack. She pawed through the clothes, muttering to herself. Finally she straightened. “C’mon. We’re going shopping. Calle Florida’s only a few blocks away.”
“I have clothes. Why do I need new ones?”
She gave him a look. It said he was getting new clothes and arguing would be pointless. He’d gotten it from exes before. Somehow, getting it from her didn’t annoy him as much as he’d thought it would.
He let her drag him from the room and out into the heat, and they wove through the streets crowded with people leaving for home.
“There. They should have something.” She pointed to a store on the corner. Pushing through the crush, they ducked inside, and she shivered next to him as a blast of frigid air-conditioned air washed over them.
He’d done this enough times before to know to keep his mouth shut. She moved from rack to shelf to table, fingers flicking and drifting over the fabrics. He snuck a peek at a price tag and immediately wished he hadn’t.
A salesman approached her, a slick smile firmly in place, and he swallowed the growl rumbling in his chest. It escaped anyway as Mr. Slick’s smile grew and turned predatory. There was no mistaking the way the salesman’s gaze stripped her naked.
Joe was mere feet away when he saw Drea’s expression. Annoyed and aiming for a polite smile. Catching his eye, her lips spread in a warm smile and she held out a hand. “Hey. You didn’t tell me your size.”
He pressed a kiss to her palm, daring a quick nip at the delicate skin of her wrist. His reward was Drea’s sharp indrawn breath, heat flaring in her eyes.
The salesman bid them a hasty good-bye, mumbling unintelligibly in Spanish as he hurried into the bowels of the store. She glared after him. “How…crass.”
“You want to go somewhere else?”
“No.” She wandered over to a rack and began flipping through shirts. “Let’s get this over with. Here.” She thrust a shirt at him without bothering to check the size and moved on to a table full of pants.
Twenty minutes later he was close to a hundred dollars poorer and the proud owner of a new shirt and a pair of pants he was sure were going to wrinkle as soon as he put them on. There was a reason he hated dress slacks. Too much maintenance.
“Don’t worry,” she said when he mentioned it. “They’re supposed to wrinkle. They’re linen.”
They passed a drug store, and he stopped and stared at the sign. Condoms. He didn’t have any, and if she was going to stick with her decision, they’d need them.
“Joe?”
He headed into the store, Drea trailing along behind him. The store was mostly empty as they wandered the aisles. “What are you looking for?”
“Condoms.”
“Oh.” He glanced over. Her cheeks were a dull red. “Um. Can we even get them here? It’s a Catholic country. They’re notorious for being anti-birth control.” Lower lip bunched under her teeth, she darted her gaze around before settling on her feet, the flush on her cheeks spreading to the rest of her face.
A small pit opened in his stomach. She looked pretty damn uncomfortable. “D, if you don’t want to do this, you can tell me.” Please oh please don’t have changed your mind.
“No,” she whispered.
That wasn’t the rousing endorsement he wanted. He slid a finger under the point of her chin and tipped her head up. “I mean it. Say it and we’ll still be cool.”
Those gorgeous blue eyes blinked. “No. I want this.” She scooted by him and grabbed something from a shelf. “These what you’re looking for?”
He glanced down at the familiar logo. The tagline was in Spanish, and he squinted at it, as though squinting would make the foreign words suddenly understandable. They’d work. Though there wasn’t any point in buying them, because Drea was shifting on her feet, anxiety and discomfort wafting off her. Nope. Definitely no fun sexytimes for them. Setting the box on the shelf, he grabbed her shoulders and held her still.
The glimmer of fear he’d seen earlier was back. “C’mon. You said you wanted dinner.” He nudged her down the aisle, away from the terrifying condoms.
“But—” She glanced over her shoulder. “Aren’t you going to buy them?”
Was she trying to drive him crazy? “Plenty of time.” He needed a shower. A cold one. Icy, even. He kissed the promise of sex tonight good-bye.
She broke away and edged around him, grabbed the box from the shelf, and marched down the aisle to the check out. The look she shot him when he caught up was full of determination.
This was going to be a very interesting evening.
Chapter Six
When she pushed him into the bathroom and ordered him to shower, he didn’t argue. She was all over the place, up one minute, down the next, waffling between desire and fear and resignation and that damn determination. Some space, or as much space as they could get and still be in the same room, was in order.
He washed away the sunscreen and sweat of the day, trying to figure out a way to get her to relax. The best thing, he figured, would be to knock it down to basics. They were friends, and they had chemistry. Massive amounts of it. Easing her into it rather than diving right into bed heightened the possibility she’d enjoy it without regrets, but it was a double-edged sword. The longer they danced around the issue, the greater the chance she’d change her mind.
It was a chance he’d have to take.
Despite the cool water dripping off him, thoughts of a naked Drea laid out before him heated his blood, and he found himself dealing with a wicked hard-on. He flipped the tap to cold, jerking as the icy water slapped his chest.
By the time he shut off the water he was back in control. Tonight they’d go out. Have dinner. Come back and go to sleep. They had plenty of time to get to the sex. If his dick didn’t agree, well, too bad.
She didn’t say anything as she passed him on her way into the bathroom. He settled onto the bed, prepared to wait. And wait. Then wait some more.
Less than forty-five minutes later, the bathroom door clicked open. He rose and snatched up the pants she’d made him buy, pulling them on. “You—”
Goddamn. Had he said she was cute? Cute was not the right word. Lush, dangerous, and beautiful all came to mind as he stared at her.
Her dress was gray. That was about the simplest thing he could say about it. It skimmed her curves, the fabric fluid as she moved. The skirt ended an inch or so above her knees, the top d
ipping low enough to having him gulping air.
She’d left her hair down. The long brown waves of it rippled over her shoulders. He wanted to tangle his fingers in it, see it spread out over his pillow.
Her too-bright eyes had him swallowing a curse.
There was so much more at stake than their friendship here, and it was fucking scary, knowing he could be screwing up one of the best things in his life. He wanted to regret kissing her this afternoon, wanted to take back everything he’d said that had made her run off, all so she’d stop looking at him like he’d offered her a puppy and was going to take it away. Regrets were pointless, though, especially since he had a hard time regretting that kiss.
Obviously the solution was to not screw up.
He stepped closer, shrugging into his new shirt and fumbling with the buttons. Shit. He hadn’t been this nervous since high school, when he was trying to slide a damn corsage on his prom date’s wrist. She cracked a smile and brushed his hands aside, doing the buttons herself. “I promise I know how to dress myself. Most of the time.”
Her hands rested on his shoulders. “I’m sure you can.” Her tongue darted out and flicked over her lips. “Ready?”
“D.” Catching her hands before she could move them away, he kissed first one palm, then the other, then dropped them to wrap his arms around her.
She did that thing where she melted against him, her head on his chest, slim fingers gripping the back of his shirt like she thought he’d try to get away. Wasn’t going to happen. Having her in his arms was fast becoming one of his favorite things.
Reminding himself the evening was about getting her to relax and have fun, he released her, thinking the distance would help. He put a few precious inches of space between them as they rode the elevator down to the lobby, space she maintained as they headed out onto the sidewalk, where the concierge flagged down a cab.
All the way up until they climbed into the back seat of the car. She scooted over until she was plastered to his side, tucked under his arm and her head resting on his chest once more. She gave the driver directions in halting Spanish, then lapsed into silence.
She was all but vibrating with nerves. Confused, he draped one arm over her lap, hand splayed across her hip as his other hand toyed with the ends of her hair. “Want to tell me where we’re going?” It was a safe topic. He needed a few more safe topics, except what he really wanted to know was what hell was going on in that head of hers.
“It’s a surprise.”
She couldn’t get close enough to Joe. She wanted to climb him like a tree, so she’d opted for the next best thing, and even as it calmed her nerves, it stirred her up. Butterfly ninjas started throwing their shurikens around her stomach. He slid a hand under hair and stroked her back, and she sighed. She liked this side of Joe. The comforter. She wished he’d show it more often.
He rested his hand at the base of her spine. “Want to tell me what’s going on that’s got you all quiet?”
She lifted her head. “I’m scared,” she admitted. “I want you. I just…” She flapped a hand uselessly. “It’s hard for me, having sex with someone new.” Hard to judge if it was going to be the beginning of something wonderful or the act that signaled the beginning of the end, as it had too many times before.
He frowned. “I don’t want to do anything that’s going to make you uncomfortable.”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”
Settling against him, she breathed deeply, trying to calm her stomach. They could do this. She trusted Joe completely, and there was no doubt in her mind he’d do everything he could to keep his promise. She shut her eyes, imagining him braced above her, the feel of those ropes of muscle under her hands. Her stomach did flips of an entirely different kind, and her jittery nerves calmed a bit. The cab stopped in front of a noisy restaurant, music and chatter and laughter spilling over the sidewalk and in through the open windows of the car. She slid out, wobbling a little on her high, thin heels. They’d seemed perfect in the store. Sexy shoes. Fuck-me shoes. Shoes designed to tell a man exactly what she wanted.
She glanced over her shoulder, and the lust-heated look in Joe’s eyes told her she’d been exactly right. The shoes were a hit. She slipped a hand into his back pocket. When he stiffened, she tried to pull away. He stopped her by draping his arm around her shoulders. “Relax,” he murmured.
Easy for him to say.
They’d never talked about sex in all the years they’d been friends. He had no way of knowing her choice was completely out of character for her. When it came to the bedroom, she took her time and got to know her partner. She hadn’t slept with Zach until they’d been together for almost three months. Most of her girlfriends would have slept with the guy way before then. After Joe’s kisses, though, there was no way she could go slow. Not after he’d dangled the prospect of sex in front of her nose.
They had to wait a few minutes until someone noticed them and showed them to a table, and she glanced around as they wound through the dim room. A long, raised dais ran along the back, serving as a stage, a runway cutting through the middle of the space, tables dotting the edges. She grinned. Hopefully they’d have a good view of the show.
“There’s a show? Cool.” He studied the runway.
“Um, yeah,” she hedged.
Before she could say another word, the same small man she’d spent most of the afternoon chatting with over glasses of wine swooped in. “Baby, you came!” Two air kisses, one beside each cheek. “And this?” He stroked Joe’s arm suggestively. “You brought me this tasty piece of man meat? Yum!”
She burst out laughing at Joe’s expression. Comical horror slid into stoic as he allowed the man to fawn all over him. The fact her new friend had a face full of makeup made it even better.
Her giggles continued while Joe glared at her, mouth pinched as he fought off a smile. He leaned forward until their noses bumped. “Careful. Or you’re gonna get it.” He flicked his tongue out and swiped her chin, and she squealed.
She plucked up her napkin and wiped her chin. “How mature.” She relaxed a fraction more. Her body might be reacting in new and scary ways to his touch, but he was Joe. Still prone to moments of juvenilism. Still making her laugh.
He put his hand on her thigh, fingers playing with the hem of her dress while they skimmed the menus. Anxiety and desire took up swords in her stomach and started battling. Higher. Off. Don’t stop. Do. She placed a hand over his, curled her fingers around it, and shifted it higher, under her dress.
His long, slim fingers flexed hard on her thigh. He lowered his menu, the question clear in his eyes. It was a fine edge she was walking. One nudge and they’d tumble over into a swirling mass of lust and heat and frenetic energy. He’d promised her, though. Promised no matter what happened between them they’d hold on to their friendship. Above all, she trusted him.
So she nodded, and his hand slid up, stroking the sensitized flesh.
He teased her through dinner, that wandering hand tickling the back of her knee, squeezing her thigh, inching higher and higher until she wanted to slouch down and spread her legs to give him better access.
She was about to when the room went completely dark. Spotlights buzzed to life and lit the stage. Katy Perry blasted through the speakers, and her server from earlier in the day, the bearer of wine, pork sandwiches, and fashion advice, sauntered onto the stage. In full drag.
Lust took a backseat as she sat up and hooted. More queens joined in, lip-syncing and dancing a simple, bouncy routine. Lights flashed, sequins gleamed, and she squirmed in her seat, sneaking a glance at Joe.
He was watching her with patient amusement. Seeing he had her attention, he reached out and dragged her chair closer. “This is not the tango show I thought you wanted to see.” His words were almost lost amongst the catcalls and throbbing bass from what was now Lady Gaga. “How’d you find out about this?”
“Met the guy this afternoon. Told me any guy who sits through a dr
ag show is worthy of forgiveness.”
“Then I’d better get started on earning it.” He grinned and turned his attention to the stage.
You already have.
She studied his profile a minute longer. It was probably a good thing she’d never registered how hot he was. She’d have made a fool of herself, trying to figure out what to do about it. Men noticed her. It was something she’d accepted a long time ago. They noticed her, or rather, they noticed her boobs. Then they stopped thinking and spent their time trying to get into her pants. The rare ones who tried to get to know her first were the ones she dated.
Her earlier realization flashed through her mind, and suddenly Joe was the most attractive man she’d ever seen. She didn’t want to sit through the show anymore. She wanted to take him back to the hotel room and rip his clothes off.
She scanned the room. Everyone was focused on the stage, clapping, calling out to the performers, singing along and laughing. It was dim. No one would notice if his hands wandered places normally considered indecent.
Keep going. Tease me.
His hand inched higher.
Chapter Seven
Nerves clawed at her belly. Need was spiraling out of control, making her shake. As soon as they were in the cab to the hotel, she crawled onto his lap and attacked his mouth. “Want you,” she mumbled, her lips racing over his face. “Want you so bad.” Need you. She wanted to be back in the bed, rewind to that morning, to the heady sensuality of blind touch.
“D.” He gathered her hair in his hand and gave a sharp tug. “Slow down. We’ve got plenty of time.”
Slowing down wasn’t an option. Slowing down gave her time to change her mind, to talk herself out of this, this huge mistake waiting to happen. To remind her that while she and Joe knew each other well, they were plunging into untried territory. That she didn’t do this. Ever.
Maybe if she begged, he’d comply.
His mouth came back to hers, no more than a tease. “Plenty.” Kiss. “Of.” Kiss. “Time.” A bite, a scrape of teeth along her throat, a whine threatening to break free.
One Night in Buenos Aires Page 4