Delicious Temptation

by Sabrina Sol

  Then maybe Eric would be coming around more often.

  Well, who says you can’t go to him?

  The nagging little voice of reason inside her head, that’s who. She’d never pursued a man in her life, especially not one with a devilish grin and reputation to match. She’d never done a lot of things and it occurred to her that might be her problem. No wonder she hadn’t had sex in almost a year. If she continued listening to what others thought she needed, she’d never get what she really wanted. And right now, that was Eric.

  Amara ignored the nagging voice and decided that if she didn’t hear from him by Monday, she’d go pay him a visit and offer to reach out to her brother on his behalf.

  At least, that’s what she planned on telling anyone if they ever found out.

  Chapter Four

  The looks and whispers began as soon as he arrived at the party to pick up his abuela. He knew what they were saying even if he didn’t hear every word.

  He’s probably a drunk now like his dad. How long before he ends up in jail? How many women has he knocked up since high school?

  The whispers didn’t hurt him, only irritated him, and he tried to shake them off as he searched for his abuela. He finally found her in the kitchen sitting with a group of women.

  “Mijo! What are you doing here?”

  “It’s already seven. Mom sent me to come take you home.” From the corner of his eye, he saw ice-cold glares being thrown in his direction.

  “I told her to come for me at seven-thirty. She was supposed to get me on her way home from work.”

  “She’s going to go to dinner with some friends so she told me to come instead.”

  “But they haven’t even cut the cake yet,” she explained and pointed to a massive sheet cake decorated with white frosting and eerily realistic blue and yellow sugar roses. “The Robles girl brought it only a few minutes ago.”

  A rugged breath escaped his lungs as all the blood in his body rushed south. It had only been a day since he’d seen or touched Amara, and that had been one fucking day too long. He was already going through withdrawals. Forgetting about her had proved harder than he’d originally thought. Perhaps if he just talked to her for a few minutes, even tried to be her friend again, then maybe he’d remember that she was too nice to ever be the naughty minx he’d dreamt about after those searing kisses.

  “Okay, we can stay until they cut the cake,” he told his grandmother. “I’ll just go wait for you outside.” She nodded and shooed him away, oblivious to the looks of death coming from the silver-haired mob in the corner.

  He walked through the open sliding glass door and stepped onto the house’s backyard patio. Blue and white streamers hung from the awning, and blue balloons dotted each wooden pillar. Tables filled with food lined the brick wall, and his stomach grumbled. But Eric wasn’t hungry for food.

  As he made his way through the zigzag of tables and folding chairs, he looked around for his target. Music blared into the evening air. Chairs scraped against the concrete as guests stood up and gathered in the middle of the large patio and began dancing. Strobe lights lit up two opposite corners of the backyard and the crowd cheered. He doubted if the guest of honor—the newborn baby boy who had just been baptized—realized that his party would go on well after his bedtime.

  The glare of one strobe light illuminated a corner of the detached garage and that’s when Eric spotted her. She stood against the wall, sipping a drink, and looking beyond bored.

  He approached her just as the song stopped. “Hey.”

  She gasped, nearly upending her drink. “Eric! I didn’t…um…what are you doing here?”

  “Catching you by surprise, judging by the look on your face.” He winked and then smiled as he surveyed the rest of her. Her dark, wild curls flowed onto her perfect breasts, which barely peeked over the neckline of a blue sleeveless blouse. Her curvy hips and ample ass were accentuated by a simple black skirt that stopped just above her knees.

  And just like that, he grew hard, thinking about what she was wearing underneath that skirt. To make matters worse, the way she peered up at him through her thick eyelashes—while licking her lips, damn it—made it nearly impossible not to think of what she could do with that tongue. If he were a praying man, he’d get down on his knees and ask God to give him the strength to walk away then and just go home.

  But he had nothing to go home to.

  And Amara was right there, in her tight, little skirt and nearly sheer blouse, looking at him as if she were offering every dirty fantasy he could think of.

  There were a lot of them.

  If he kept this up, his dick would punch through his pants. Desperate, he tried for small talk. “The cake looks nice,” he said, leaning in so she could hear him over the music. “You did a good job.”

  “Thanks!” The bright smile she gave him nearly sent him to his knees. “I had some problems with the frosting. It took a lot longer to set than usual. I was supposed to drop it off two hours ago.”

  “I’m sure it tastes amazing,” he said.

  Just like her.

  She said something back to him but he couldn’t hear because of the ridiculously loud, thumping music. If they were going to have a real conversation, he needed to get closer. Not the brightest idea he ever had, especially since he already had to lean in every time he spoke, but he didn’t see a way around it. Nor did he want to.

  He moved closer, his head next to hers, his lips hovering barely an inch away from her ear. How easy it would be to nip her earlobe and soothe it with his tongue. “What are you drinking?” he asked.

  He allowed himself to trail the tip of his nose along her neck and inhaled a whiff of vanilla mixed with other fragrant spices. Fuck, she even smelled appetizing. And that triggered a hunger to taste her again—but this time he wouldn’t stop at her mouth. His groin tightened further at the image of Amara on her back, her legs spread open, waiting for him to taste her there. A groan escaped him and without thinking, he took another step closer.

  She looked up at him, her cheeks flushed and her chest heaving with deep breaths. “I don’t know what it is, actually. Someone just shoved it in my hand. I’m not really a drinker.”

  He lifted her hair from her neck and swept it behind her back. “Me, either.” At least not anymore, he thought.

  She reached for his hand. “How are your fingers?”

  “Better,” he said, watching her turn it over in her hand. “Must have been your first aid skills.”

  Her light laugh danced between them, making him focus on her luscious lips. They were pink and glistening with whatever concoction was inside that red cup. The urge to lick the drops away barreled over any remaining resolve to keep things platonic between them tonight.

  And she still hadn’t let go of his hand.

  Fuck willpower, he decided. He hadn’t given up drinking overnight. What made him think giving up his attraction to Amara would be any different?

  He closed the few remaining inches between them, pinning her between his body and the wall. She gasped, but when she didn’t object, he pressed his body against hers.

  “What are you doing?” she breathed.

  He let his lips brush her earlobe and nipped it, just once, before laying all of his cards on the table. “I’m showing you that I haven’t stopped thinking about you. And I don’t know what the fuck it was I ever did to deserve the privilege to kiss the hell out of those lips, but I’d sacrifice just about anything right now if it meant I could do it again.”

  Even in the shadows, he could see her eyes widen. She turned to face him. “You would? I thought you wouldn’t want to after realizing who I was.”

  He couldn’t help smiling at the fact she’d nailed his response exactly. “I admit I was a little shocked. Okay, a lot shocked. And truth is, me and you probably isn’t the best idea I’ve ever had. But I’ve never been shy about telling people what I want. And, sweetheart, I want you so bad I can’t walk straight.”

  The co
lors of the strobe light danced across her face and his gaze traveled to her mouth. When she licked her bottom lip again, the heat between them intensified by a million degrees. Time to see if there was a minx inside her after all. He pressed in tight so there’d be no misunderstanding about what he was about to say. “In fact, there’s nothing more in this world that I want right now than to push you up against this wall and fuck you. But there are too many people around and someone could see us.”

  She watched the crowd for a few seconds before meeting his eyes again. Had he scared her off? Would she pull her hand away and tell him he’d misinterpreted everything? He waited for her to bring him back to harsh reality. Instead, she opened her mouth and changed everything.

  “Then let’s go somewhere so they can’t.”

  …

  Maybe it was the wanton beat of the thumping music or the ounce of alcohol in her system. Either way, she’d just told Eric that she wanted to be alone with him. And although she didn’t use the exact words, she was pretty sure she’d just agreed to have sex with him, too.

  She followed him through the crowd, not knowing where they were going. Did people notice that they were holding hands? It didn’t seem like it. Everyone was too busy dancing and having a good time. Bodies bumped into her and stepped on her feet, but she didn’t care. She just walked faster. Bumped back harder. Gripped Eric’s hand tighter.

  Amara couldn’t believe this wasn’t just one of those dreams that felt real but disappeared the moment you opened your eyes. Only yesterday she’d been fantasizing about what would happen the next time they saw each other. After being reminded, yet again, by Trina that she should stay away, she’d been more determined than ever to do the opposite. Thoughts of what they’d do together had consumed her for the rest of the day. So much so that she’d found herself in the shower after 11 p.m., seeking much-needed release via a strategically placed showerhead.

  But in the morning light, old insecurities needled at her. Sure, he’d wanted to kiss her when he thought she was just some random big-busted girl who worked in his former friend’s bakery. But the shocking realization of who she really was—not to mention her mother’s little scene—most likely doused any budding attraction to her.

  What if she had followed through on her initial plan to seduce him and then he rejected her? She’d die. Absolutely die. It had been a foolish idea to think she could handle being with a guy like Eric. She was more the speed of a merry-go-round at an amusement park, whereas he was the lightning fast rollercoaster. Her libido had been bigger than her courage, so she’d pushed the silly idea out of her head that morning as she worked on the cake for the party.

  So when Eric walked up to her, she’d told herself it would be better to pretend that she hadn’t given a second thought to what had happened between them. She’d told herself to be polite, chat for a few minutes and say good-bye for good. But the closer he moved to her, the harder it had been to walk away. Asking to see his burns had only been an excuse to touch him. Then he’d touched her. Her hair, her neck, her earlobe…God, the earlobe…rekindling the need to kiss him, too.

  And then he said he wanted her.

  All her life, Amara had done what other people thought she should do rather than follow her own desires. It was time to do what she wanted to do. What she’d ached to do ever since she saw Eric walk into the bakery.

  And now she had her chance.

  You are going to have sex with Eric Valencia. He is going to have sex with you. Don’t you dare ruin this by overthinking everything. You are a grown woman who can have sex when she wants and with whom she wants without it meaning anything.

  Because it couldn’t.

  He led her around the guesthouse next to the large swimming pool, but swore when they came upon small circles of people smoking and drinking behind it. They turned back around and continued down a concrete pathway, the music behind them but still pulsating through her. He stopped and pointed. She followed his finger toward the pathway as it curved down a grassy incline and ended at a small shed-like building.

  “There. We can go in there.”

  Amara’s heart quickened as they raced down the hill. They were both out of the breath when they landed at the building’s small, elevated porch. Eric tried the door but it was locked. “Damn it!” He looked around and turned his attention to a cluster of clay pots and figurines grouped near the doorway. One by one he picked them up, turning them over in search of something, but never once letting go of her hand.

  “No one ever really locks the gardener’s shed. There has to be a spare key here somewhere.” He turned over the one that looked like an evil squirrel and a silver key attached to a thick cord tumbled out.

  “Yes!” He grabbed it off the ground and inserted it into the lock. With one click, the door opened.

  Eric pulled her inside and used her to push the door closed. He crushed his body against hers, seizing her mouth in a frenzied, hard kiss that took her breath away. She kissed him back, opening her mouth to find his tongue. He ran his hands up the back of her thighs and under her skirt, settling on each butt cheek. With every squeeze, he thrust his groin against her belly.

  “Tell me what you want,” he growled. “I want to hear you say it.”

  Her voice caught in her throat. Whenever she tried to speak, only breathless sighs came out.

  “Do you want me touch you?” He moved his lips to her neck and collarbone.

  She could only nod. He groaned and worked at the buttons on her blouse, eventually tearing it open with both of his hands. The cool night air slammed against her exposed skin but she didn’t shiver. Eric’s hands left a trail of heat in their wake. He pulled her bra down and consumed one full breast after the other. Amara quivered, her climax building with every touch.

  When he flicked his tongue against one straining nipple, she couldn’t contain herself any longer.

  “I…oh…don’t..,” she gasped, grabbing his hair with her fingers. She teetered on the edge. Only one more thing would surely cause her to fall. But she couldn’t bring herself say it.

  “You’re going to come, aren’t you?” His breath burned hot and heavy against her bare skin. But she could only whimper a response. Despite her lack of words, he got the message. He moved one hand from her bottom to yank down her panties. “Fuuuck, you’re so wet,” he groaned as his fingers slid between her folds.

  His touch, combined with his crude words, obliterated any sense of self-control. She dug her nails into his shoulders and let go.

  Eric captured her scream with his mouth as the orgasm ripped through her. She saw stars and swirls of red and orange. Her knees gave way, but he held her up with strong, protective hands and buried his face in the crook of her neck. When the quaking finally subsided, he kissed her nose and reached down to pull up her underwear.

  Although her lust had been satiated for the moment, her pulsing core still yearned for deeper fulfillment. Why wasn’t Eric dropping his pants?

  “What are you doing?” she asked as he started to redo the buttons on her blouse. “I thought you wanted to…you know…”

  He grinned as he moved a wisp of hair from her eyes. “I did. I do. But not like this.”

  “Did I do something wrong? I don’t understand.”

  Eric grabbed her face with both of his hands and gently kissed her. “You didn’t do anything wrong. But let’s face it, you’re not exactly the kind of girl who has sex in a dirty shed during a baby’s baptism party.”

  She knew he meant it as a compliment, but that didn’t stop her stomach from turning. Her mother always complained that Amara liked to push people to say things they didn’t want to say. Usually, she ended up regretting pushing so hard. But she couldn’t help it. Just like now.

  She moved away from Eric. Then she asked the question she already knew she didn’t want the answer to. “So what kind of girl am I, exactly?”

  “Huh? What are you talking about?”

  “You said I’m not the kind of girl who
has sex in a shed. So I want to know what kind of girl you think I am.”

  “You know.”

  “Maybe I don’t. Tell me.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Tell me.”

  “Amara…”

  “Eric, just say it. I want to hear you say it.”

  “Fine! You’re a nice girl, Amara, and I’m trying really hard to be a nice guy.”

  She pulled away from him and straightened her skirt. “So let me get this straight. You’ve decided that this isn’t the right time or place for me to have sex.”

  “Well, not just you. I thought it would be better if our first time was somewhere, you know, less dirty.” He frowned. “I want it to be, I don’t know, nice I guess.”

  There was that word again. She clenched her hands into fists and struggled to not scream. She was so tired of people associating that word with her. She didn’t want “nice” sex. She’d had enough of nice sex with her old college boyfriend, “Mr. Missionary.” For once in her life, she wanted splinters-in-your-back-hair-pulling-lip-biting-crazy-hard-hot-sex.

  And it crushed her that Eric had decided she couldn’t have it—at least not with him. She was really getting sick of people who felt they knew what was best for her without asking her what she wanted.

  He touched her shoulder but she flinched as if he had slapped her. He opened his mouth, thought better of it, and closed it again.

  But when Amara reached for the door, he finally exploded. “I’m not going to fuck you in a fucking shed, okay? Why is that such a big deal? You still had a good time, right? Or was that someone else coming all over my hand?”

  That was it. Amara had officially hit her mortification limit. “You’re right, Eric, I did have a good time. Thank you very much for my orgasm. Good night.”

  She threw open the door. She kicked her way through the jungle of clay pots on the ground, not caring if they broke or ruined her shoes. Tears threatened to fall, but she rubbed them away before they left the rim of her eye. He yelled her name behind her, each time sounding a little bit closer. She just walked faster and faster up the hill until a hand grabbed her wrist and stopped her in her tracks.