finding Reese.: a SAFELIGHT novel vol.2 (SAFELIGHT Series)

by Imy Santiago

  The dress is delicate and pretty; after putting on the sexy as sin underwear, I slip it on and look into the mirror, and I’m thrilled with what I see. To put it simply, I look happy; my cheeks are bright pink, and my dark eyes twinkle. My hair is starting to curl up on its own, and normally I would resort to an up-do. This time I blow out my bangs and put some mousse in, and leave it down. With make-up and sandals on, I open the wooden door that leads to the wrought-iron balcony, and look at the streets below. Music continues to pour from the bars below and my hips instinctively sway to and fro. I close my eyes and let the music move me, and I don’t open my eyes until I feel a pair of strong hands on my waist.

  “You look so sexy dancing like that, Catalina. So fucking sexy,” he mutters as he kisses the length of my exposed neck. I practically melt in his hold, and smile wickedly when I feel his need for me pressing against the small of my back. Turning around, I stand in proper dance posture and lift my hands, inviting him to dance with me. Instead, he turns me back around and presses his body hard against mine leaving no space between us. As the salsa beat floods the air in Old San Juan, we are two lovers lost in each other’s embrace.

  MY HANDS TAKE HOLD OF Catalina’s waist as we dance to the beat of island salsa which has a heavier baseline than its ballroom counterpart. I love the smile on her face as she tries to dance with me amongst the locals at the quaint-yet-larger-than-life bar. Everyone is here to dance, and it shows. All the dancers showing off their footwork on the small and crowded dance floor are incredible. I’m impressed Catalina hasn’t shied away from me or from the crowd.

  Local guys have been eyeing up my girl since we walked into the place. Why wouldn’t they? She’s a gorgeous woman and looks more appealing when she’s around the likes of me- a gringo. The difference is this gringo knows how to hold his own on the dance floor, even here in the birthplace of salsa. Someone explained to me once that it’s not very common to see interracial relationships here, so we definitely stick out. But I’ve found the quickest way to nip that incongruence is by showing them that this Italian boy is capable of dancing and not the rigid attempts made by my counterparts who come here on vacation.

  As soon as we hit the dance floor, we are welcomed with cheers and claps which make Catalina blush the color of red roses. Song after song, we’re lost in the music, and I love the fact that Catalina hasn’t stopped smiling. Her giggles are like music to my ears, and that gorgeous, uncomplaining body of hers keeping up with mine has me biting my tongue and then some.

  The question I’ve been dying to ask keeps coming up, and to be honest I don’t know how it hasn’t slipped out already. I want to propose to her, and while I’m completely certain a future with her is all I want, a part of me fears she’ll say no because we’ve known each other less than six months. I brought the ring with me, just in case, and while I haven’t planned the proposal out I know asking her, and hearing ‘yes’ is all that I want and dream of.

  After dancing six songs back to back, I am thirsty and so is she. I grab Catalina by the hand, and we walk towards the bar. When the bartender sees us he smiles wide

  “For a white boy you can dance, my man,” says the older man, pointing his chin at me. “What can I get you?”

  “Dos cervezas, por favor,” I ask, trying hard to roll my r’s.

  The bartender looks at Catalina and smiles, “¡A pues bien . . . baila, y habla español! Te pegaste en la lotería, amiguita.” Catalina laughs and shrugs her shoulders, then moves to hug me hard. “¿Medalla?”

  I nod in agreement, and when he turns his back, Catalina whispers into my ear. “He said you can dance and speak Spanish, so that means I apparently won the lottery with you . . .”

  I laugh loud and hard, and she laughs along with me. “Damn right, babe,” I declare with a wink. Catalina shakes her head and mutters something in Spanish under her breath. I kiss her temple hard and hand a twenty to the bartender, but when he hands it back to me I give him a puzzled look.

  “Va por la casa, brother,” he says, which I understand right off the bat. ‘Your drinks are on the house.’ I step closer to the bar-top and shake the man’s hand.

  “Gracias,” I call out, to which he simply smiles and nods. I pick up our bottles of local craft beer, and we sit at a small table outside the bar. We sip our beer in comfortable silence, watching people walk by and exchanging longing looks.

  “Having fun?” I ask.

  Catalina looks at me, and the fire simmering in her eyes has me looking forward to bedtime. “You never told me you spoke Spanish, Stryder.”

  I chuckle, and placing the beer on the metal table, I answer, “I know the basics, mostly because Spanish is very similar to Italian. But when you speak it, it’s usually under your breath and so goddamn fast I can barely catch a word you say.”

  Catalina lets out a belly laugh, and almost spits out her beer. “I do not!”

  Sitting on the edge of my seat I reach out for her hand and bring it up to my lips; kissing the soft skin over her knuckles. “Yes, you do. You may not realize it, but you do . . . especially with Jax.”

  Catalina laughs harder, and says, “It’s because he’s so random and the shit that comes out of that boy’s mouth is freaking hysterical! Cut me some slack here.”

  “Ahh, I see. You’ve also murmured a thing or two while I’m inside you. Don’t think I haven’t noticed,” I deadpan, and take a swig from my beer.

  Catalina squirms in her seat, and the cheery smile she’s had on all night turns to a lust-filled gaze. Without a word I stand and wrap her dainty hand around my own, and then lead her back to the hotel. We’re barely through the door of our suite when I pick her up and wrap her legs around my waist; my hands touch the silkiness of her thighs and squeeze her shapely ass. The way she moves over me, squirming and grabbing my hair, licking and biting my neck has me in a hurry to undress her and get her into bed fast. Instead, I prop her against the wall and let my free hand tilt her chin upwards so she can look at me.

  “You mean the world to me, Catalina Pardo. For you I’d do anything, and for your love I’d do whatever it takes to keep you by my side forever.” Catalina’s breaths come out shaky, and her gorgeous eyes blink rapidly. I look down to her neck, and in the muted lighting of the room I see her pulse beating at the base of her tanned neck. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Stryder,” she whispers, looking me dead in the eyes.

  I have to bite back the four words I’m dying to ask her; I know this isn’t the right time so instead I kiss her like a starved man. Our kisses are feverish, and damn they feel so right. I tighten my hold on her and walk us towards the bed, and once there I lay her flat against the covers; her raven-colored hair, tanned skin, and slightly smudged red lips contrast sharply with the stark-white linens. I take a moment to look at her, committing this moment to memory.

  How did I get so lucky? As I stand before her beauty I can’t help but think how blessed I am to have such an amazing woman in my life. In one swoop she has commanded my heart with just her smile, and her existence inspires me to be a better man. I want things with her I’ve never wanted with anyone else before. While I stand dressed in front of her, my soul is naked before hers, and there’s nothing more vulnerable or gratifying. Her love has transformed me from a fickle, bitter man to someone who wants to do well in every aspect of my life, and when she smiles, I know without a doubt my life is no life without Catalina Pardo in it. I will do everything I can to give her the life she deserves.

  I kneel, and pull her legs towards me, removing the white sandals from her feet. I know what it’s like to have sore feet after dancing, so I give her a quick massage to soothe them. Her moans of appreciation have me a little excited, if you know what I mean, and while I want to rip off the clothing I bought for her, I also want to take things slow.

  Apart from the sounds of our breathing, the room is serene; maybe it’s because we’re far from home, or perhaps it’s her love that soothes me. Whichever it is, I’m happy.


  My lips kiss the tender spot above her ankle, and Catalina squirms with a giggle. I flatten my tongue and lick the same spot for effect, which makes her giggle again. I’m pretty sure I look like a smitten bastard with a cheesy-ass smile on his face. I put her right ankle down and repeat the same with her left.

  “Stryder . . . stop! That tickles!” Catalina pleads between laughs.

  “Shh . . . shh,” I try to calm her all while holding back a laugh of my own. Her legs threaten to kick me in the nuts, and I take a step back in precaution to shield my package. I let my fingers roam between her legs and my lips follow exactly where they left off. My heart is beating frantically with the need I have for her, and when I reach the soft spot between her legs, I push the fabric separating us aside. The Neanderthal in me feels proud at the wetness I find there; I don’t hesitate to make my presence there known.

  Using the pad of my thumb, I rub her hardened clit in small, measured circles, and when she tilts her hips up I lick her wetness like a thirsty man. Everything about Catalina has me tied up in knots; her scent, her taste, and the way her body responds to mine blow me away. Her body knows its mate. The noises she makes when I’m giving her hers renders me stupid and I fight all urges to undress, to sink myself deep into her until there’s no way of distinguishing where her body ends and mine begins.

  We exchange no words, just sighs and moans of pleasure as I devote myself entirely to her. Her body is the most beautiful in the world, not because it’s perfect, but because it is mine to behold. I know it’s absurd to do this deep-thinking as I’m sucking her clit, but the truth is if my mind is occupied, then I can control my other impulses.

  She’s on the brink, and that’s where I want her. When my mouth unlatches her little moans of protest make me grin. I want her to come with me inside her, and not after she’s had her first. I undress, making sure to grab a condom from my wallet, and as I’m rolling it down my shaft, she shakes her head.

  “I hate those. Please don’t,” Catalina says, with a heavy sigh.

  Just by looking into her eyes I can tell she’s considering the risk, but she says nothing further. It’s up to me to take matters into my own hands. We’ve had countless encounters, but now that I have plans for us I’d like for things to happen when she wants them to happen.

  I quickly remove the condom and throw it over my shoulder. Catalina reaches out to me as she tries to sit up, so I kneel on the bed and let her straddle me. My dick is more than happy with the seating arrangement and a hissed sigh leaves my chest when she positions it into her entrance. I love that feeling, when I’m slipping into her wetness, her snug warmth the perfect cocoon for my dick. We are each other’s missing puzzle pieces and when put together we make art in the most beautiful way.

  I let Catalina ride me, and each of her thrusts has me holding back the urge to let go. She knows how to work me like no woman has before; I don’t know if it’s the mental and physical connection shared between us, or she knows my body more than I give her credit for. I caress her and squeeze her beautiful breasts bouncing in front of me; I'm in a trance of sorts. Before Catalina, I was the one in control, but ever since she walked into my life we’ve found this happy medium where neither of us is fully in control of the other.

  “I’m so close,” she whispers. Her fingernails scratch my shoulders, and her pussy squeezes my dick. I move my hands towards her face, and when our eyes lock I swear I can see into her soul.

  “I want to see you when you come, Cat,” I breathe. Her mouth turns down into an embarrassed frown as she tries to break free from my hold. “No, Catalina, I want to look into your eyes. Please, baby.”

  I grip the nape of her neck with one hand, still holding her face with the other. Her movements slow as her fingers squeeze my shoulders painfully, and then the sound that leaves her throat is so violent and deep I’m instantly covered in goose bumps. Through my shaft I can feel the contractions of her pussy followed by a slick wetness all over my dick and dripping down my balls. Her eyes are locked on mine, and in them I see what I can only describe as love; she bites her lip, and I know she’s holding back from making further sounds.

  “Don’t hold back on my account, baby,” I encourage, looking into her eyes. “I want to hear you as much as feel you, and damn it, Cat, your body is screaming at me right now. Let me hear you!”

  Catalina’s eyes roll back, and, my little temptress sings a goddamn symphony that has me pushing her on her back so I can extend her orgasm as long as I can. I angle my dick to hit that sweet spot inside of her, and her mewls grow in intensity with each thrust.

  “Please, oh my God, please, oh, oh,” she chants.

  I’m cutting it close here, so I bite my lip to distract myself, and I huff in relief when she comes a second time. I wait as long as I possibly can before I break our connection and empty myself all over her belly. She looks at me with a slightly confused expression, and I’ll admit a part of me feels bad, but it’s a necessary evil. As we both come down from our highs, I pick her up and carry her into the shower with me. There’s this awkward silence between us, and I feel the urge to revisit the condom conversation we had almost three months ago. I also need to explain a few things.

  “You’re very quiet, Catalina. What’s on your mind?”

  Her eyes meet mine, and she cuts straight to the chase. “You didn’t come inside me. Why?”

  “We haven’t been shining examples of safe sex, and I know how you feel about kids so I’m just playing it safe. That’s all.”

  Her eyes turn soft and a half-smile brightens her features. “Okay, but . . .”

  “But what, Catalina?” I ask.

  “I already told you my chances of getting pregnant are extremely low, and yes, we’ve been risky, but I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t then there’s no harm.” As we’re standing underneath the showerhead I feel pretty damn happy. I know what she’s telling me without saying it. Her mindset is changing, and all the more I need to be careful about spilling my guts here. She’s okay with trying, and having that knowledge helps me breathe easier. “Are we good?” she asks, and I nod.

  “Yeah! Why would you ask me that?”

  “I don’t know, I just felt like I threw you off your game there, Stud,” she whispers, pointing towards the bed with her chin.

  I shake my head and wrap my arms around her, pressing my chest tightly against hers. “Me, off my game? Never!” I declare with a wink.

  Morning surprises us after an invigorating night, and after checking out of the bed and breakfast we go sightseeing in Old San Juan. We visit the historic colonial Spanish fort Castillo San Felipe del Morro. I tipped the tour guide a hefty sum so they could allow us into a restricted area of the fortress called La Garita del Diablo- a small sentry box Spanish soldiers used to keep an eye on incoming enemy ships. There’s a certain legend I read about online regarding a soldier who abandoned his post to secretly meet with his girlfriend in that sentry box, and naturally when I read about it, I knew I needed to sneak in a kiss, or two with Catalina. After insufferable protestation she eventually allowed me to take a picture of us kissing inside it.

  Once our tour of the fortress ends−complete with snapping countless pictures of her throughout the fort, we walk through the streets of Old San Juan, shopping for clothing for the rest of our trip. We take a walk down Paseo de la Princesa a waterside walkway, and browse the work of local artisans, even sneak a bite at one of the food kiosks. With full bellies we continue our path towards a colonial door called La Puerta de San Juan which leads to La Catedral de San Juan- the Cathedral of San Juan.

  We walk into the church and while she looks around, I take a seat on one of the pews. Older women are kneeling, praying the rosary like my Nonna used to. I sit in silence, feeling at peace, and while I’m not kneeling, I’m definitely praying for the future I want.

  I’m not the most religious of men, but I am a believer and my faith has been restore
d now that Jackson is back among the living. I deposit my wishes into God’s hands, and as I’m about to stand, I see Catalina sitting on the pew beside me with a smile on her face. I don’t know why I feel so embarrassed she caught me praying, but I do. With our hands clasped, we light a candle together, and placing my hands over her belly I silently pray for a miracle before we leave the church.

  As we walk up the cobblestone steps towards the hotel parking lot, Catalina asks, “What did you pray for?”

  I open the Jeep’s door, and with a smirk on my face I reply, “For us.”

  We start the long drive down the north coast of Puerto Rico to one of my favorite places on this island: Rincón. Many of my assignments have brought me to this beach because it is one of the best beaches in the world to surf, and many of my clients have hired me to cover competitions. While tourists love hanging out in San Juan and the surrounding areas, I prefer to hang out with the locals.

  Catalina’s raises her hands in the air, feeling the salt-kissed air breezing through the roof of the Jeep, and every so often she lets out a giggle. On her face there’s a smile that has me feeling incredibly happy because I know I helped put it there. I reach over and rest my hand on her knee. She rests one of her hands on top of it, and squeezes. Without saying a word we are communicating how much we mean to each other. I adjust my sunglasses and keep my eyes on the road, and perk up in my seat when I see the exit up ahead.

  Not once has she asked me where we’re headed. I’m pleasantly surprised and moved that she trusts me enough to lead the way. We ride down a sandy-gravel road right along the shoreline, and stop at a two-story terra-cotta house I rented for the week. It has a wrap-around balcony with a deck on the second story that boasts a view of the Atlantic Ocean with glass windows all around. It’s one of my clients’ rental properties and I was thrilled it was available.