Fierce Passion

by Phoebe Conn

  Before leaving, she fed the kittens and corralled them in the guest bathroom. Gathering her courage, she drove her Porsche to El Gato to pick up their dinner and parked the car around the block from Alejandro’s studio. Fearing she was imagining more problems than she actually had, she carried their dinner bag up the stairs.

  Alejandro opened the door on her first knock. He stared at her, looked much too closely and then broke into a wide grin. “You’re even prettier than you were.” He reached for her waist and pulled her into a loving hug. “You disappear so often, I don’t want to let you go.”

  “I’m here,” she assured him. She patted his back, felt the muscles play under her fingertips and found his strength wonderfully reassuring. When he dropped his arms, she didn’t back away. Barefoot, he wore a knit shirt and shorts rather than attempt to hide the bruises and scrapes running along his right side, but when he turned toward the table, he limped. She was certain he’d been hurt worse than he’d admit. “Do you fall off your bike often?”

  “No, thank God.” He’d cleared the end of his worktable and made brown paper placemats. He had laid out napkins and utensils and had pulled up two chairs. “I’d just like to look at you for a while. Do you mind if we wait to eat?”

  “Not at all.” She stowed the café bag in his nearly bare refrigerator and took out a bottle of water. “I like looking at you too. We ought to sit down, though. Do you want to use the futon?”

  He took her hand and walked her to it. He lowered himself slowly, and she sat on his left side, stretched out her legs and crossed her ankles.

  “It’s nice to see you in something other than black.”

  She drank a sip of water and licked her lips. “Thank you. Tell me what you’ve been doing all week.”

  He reached for the water bottle and took a drink. “Classes, projects that have to be completed on time, nothing fun at all. I’ve been to Palma. I wish I could have been there with you.”

  “Me too.” She couldn’t believe he’d eyed her so closely and not thought she at least looked familiar. Looking forward to the night, she wouldn’t admit anything he didn’t see, however.

  He set the bottle aside and laced his fingers in hers. “Tell me about the shoot. Did it go well?”

  “All in all yes, but not entirely. It doesn’t matter now, though.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. “I work with different people every week, and I never know what to expect. I may think I know, but there are always surprises.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Not good ones?”

  “No, never good ones.”

  He brought her hand to his lips. “Don’t I qualify?”

  The devilish glint in his light eyes made her laugh. “Yes, you’re a delicious surprise.” She leaned close to kiss him, and he lay back and pulled her down on his chest.

  “If we don’t get too rambunctious, I’ll be fine,” he promised.

  “What if I get rambunctious and you just lie back and enjoy it?” She ran her fingertips down his arm in a teasing caress.

  He moaned way back in his throat. “I’ve really missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you too.” She slicked his hair out of his eyes, ran her hands down his belly and unzipped his shorts without breaking eye contact. “Condoms?”

  “Pocket, but I don’t want you to think…”

  She silenced him with a lavish kiss that made him breathless. “Let’s not think.” She leaned back to pull his shorts down his legs and took care not to brush his skinned knee. He’d gone commando, and she raked her fingertips across his bare belly and watched him grow hard. “Take off your shirt.”

  He yanked it over his head and threw it aside. “You ought to remove something.”

  “Maybe after dinner.” She pulled her hair out of the braid and leaned over to swish the gentle curls over his chest and hips.

  He grabbed hold of her shoulders. “How can you talk about dinner?” he asked in a choked gasp.

  “All right, I’ll forget food for the moment, but we’ll have to eat eventually.” She played her fingers over his hairy chest. He looked like a real man, not a carefully waxed and manicured model. The next time she brushed her hair over him, she moved lower to straddle his left leg and slid her fingers around his rock-hard cock. “You’ve got a real mouthful here, but I’ll give it a try.”

  “Ah.” His voice ended in a grateful sigh, and he grabbed her hair to hold her close.

  She teased him with soft licks, savoring the smooth head before sucking him in deep. Circling his shaft with gently twisting hands, she lured him nearer and nearer to the edge before sitting back. She pulled her hair free of his grasp, tickled his balls and pinched his nipples. “You liked what I did last time. Now you’ll know what’s coming.”

  When he could only manage a strangled moan, she bent down to swirl her tongue over the sensitive spot where his shaft met the head, and again took him deep. She held him so he couldn’t thrust down her throat, rubbed the spot behind his balls, and pressed down with her thumb to delay his climax. He could only stand a few seconds of that erotic torture, and she slid his cock out of her mouth and pressed it to his stomach. She raised her thumb to give him another world-shattering climax and watched his cum spew across his belly. She wiped it up with a tissue from her pocket.

  After rolling off the futon, she washed her hands in the kitchen sink and called over her shoulder. “I feel like eating, but you can take your time. I love the placemats.”

  Alejandro mumbled incoherently as he fought to regain his breath. He stared up at the ceiling. “You must have had a lot of practice with that technique, whatever it’s called.”

  Indeed she had, and with a master. “I doubt it has a name, but I’m discreet and never name my lovers.” Earlier, she’d slid the elastic band from her braid onto her wrist and used it now to make a low ponytail. She took the El Gato bag from the refrigerator. “If you want to eat, you have to wear clothes when you come to the table.”

  He propped himself on an elbow. “This is my studio, and I make the rules.”

  She found plates and carried his sandwich and beer to the table. She warmed her vegetable-filled pasta in the microwave. “You ought to please your guests, especially considering how easily I please you.”

  “You think I’m easy?”

  The silly question made her laugh. “Of course, you’re a man.”

  He eased himself up and pulled on his clothes. “I think I like the Goth girl better. Can you bring her back?”

  That hurt, and she was angry with herself for not thinking he might have a favorite. She shrugged as though he’d been joking. “I’d still be the same person.”

  He came to the table, and when he found his favorite sandwich, he sat back. “We didn’t exchange more than a half-dozen words that first Sunday, and you remembered what I like?”

  “Goth Girl has a great memory. Thank her next time you see her.” She took the chair beside him and had a bite of her dinner. The pasta held a comforting warmth, but her feelings were still hurt.

  “No, wait. I’d rather you stayed one person, and you’re so pretty with your blonde hair. How long did it take you to grow?”

  It was a question she’d been asked a million times, and she didn’t want to sound annoyed. She forced a smile. “I’ve had long hair since I was a child and trim the ends once in a while. Now tell me something. You must be at least six-three.”

  “I’m six-five when I stand up straight.”

  “Perfect.”

  He finished chewing a bite of his sandwich. “You wouldn’t describe me as gangly and awkward?”

  “No, not at all. You have an athlete’s grace, and you’re better looking than most of the male models I photograph.”

  He dipped his head as though embarrassed. “I’m not any good at standing still, so that career is out for me.”

  She played with a strand of pasta. “It’s still nice to find a man who doesn’t have to look up a
t me.” She licked a bit of tomato off her lip. “It makes for a nice fit.”

  “I believe it. If I could climb the ladder up to my bedroom, we could try it.”

  She’d brought her water to the table and took a long drink. “There’s no need to rush. I fed the kittens and don’t have to hurry home.”

  “Good. We can spend the whole night together. I don’t suppose anyone’s died from too much sex.”

  “Sure they have. Men have heart attacks all the time. I’ve heard more often with a mistress or girlfriend than a wife.”

  “Have you ever been married?” he asked.

  She finished a bite of grilled zucchini. “No, I haven’t.”

  He frowned slightly and looked more serious. “What about your boyfriend who died? Would you have married him?”

  Her breath caught in her throat, but it was unfair to both of them to think about Miguel when they were together. “Yes, but now you’ve depressed me thoroughly. Let’s leave that subject closed and just eat.”

  He gave her shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. “I’m sorry. I always ask the wrong questions.”

  She curled her hand around his wrist. “I’d like to really know you, but I don’t want to know about other women unless they were circus performers who had some unusual tricks we could try.”

  He jerked his hand away to grab his napkin. His mouth was full, and he couldn’t laugh, so he shook his head and swallowed. “No, you’re the wildest woman I’ve ever met, but I like it.”

  “Wild?” She regarded him with the enticing sultry glance she used so successfully in ads. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

  “It was.” He glanced at her plate. “Don’t you eat anything other than vegetables?”

  She smiled. “I also eat fruit. You could call it the fruit-bat diet.”

  His gaze turned quizzical. “How could you recommend the restaurant’s filet mignon?”

  She toyed with another piece of grilled zucchini but didn’t bring it to her mouth. “We don’t discuss other people, remember?”

  “So your dates, who shall remain nameless, said it was good?”

  She set her half-eaten dinner aside. “Nothing matters, Alejandro, but here and now. Life is fleeting, and we should enjoy the moment and not worry about the past.”

  There were only a few crumbs left on his plate, and he turned his full attention on her. “You sound like a fortune cookie.”

  “True, but it’s good advice. Now tell me something about Moorish art. The buildings on Palma are so beautiful, and it’s difficult to believe they’re seven hundred years old. Was construction that much better then?”

  His brows dipped in disbelief. “You want to talk about architecture?”

  “Why not? I’m curious, and you’re an expert, aren’t you?”

  He nodded. “The Moors had superb craftsmen who built with local stone, and their measurements were so accurate that once built, their structures will stand indefinitely. If Spain were a country with frequent earthquakes, all we’d have now would be intriguing rubble, but the ground here is solid.”

  “There’s no difference between one architect and another, though, is there?”

  “No, they all combined the same elements. Now we can build whatever we want, or whatever we can convince someone to pay to build, but my little boxes won’t last seven hundred years.”

  “They’re meant as family homes, so they won’t have to,” she assured him.

  He finished his beer and set the bottle aside. “Now I’m curious. Why do you go around in a Goth disguise?”

  She smiled and hoped it would distract him until she could come up with an answer that made sense. “It’s just fun. I work in advertising where we often make one thing look like another. On Sundays, it’s fun to disappear into someone else, and it doesn’t hurt anyone.”

  “I suppose not, but if there had been another table with a vacant chair at El Gato, I would have taken it and missed knowing you.”

  “A tragedy,” she replied flippantly, but the possibility truly saddened her.

  “For me, if not for you,” he insisted.

  She reached for his hand and gave him a quick squeeze. “Truthfully, for me too. One of the models who went to Palma is looking for a man with substance. She’s not talking about money, but good character, someone really worth knowing. You’re in that category, but I won’t introduce you.”

  He looked at her askance and scoffed. “I don’t believe I’ve ever impressed a girl with my character.”

  His skeptical expression told her much more than he’d meant to. “Maybe you’ve met the wrong women.”

  “You could say that.” He caught her hand before she could pull away. “I want to take you out, go places, do things. We don’t need to stay here.”

  “Out,” she repeated softly. “I love holding hands in movies. Do you like that?”

  “Of course. I still want to take you to the port.”

  “That’s always fun. But we needn’t go anywhere until you’re better.”

  “I’ll be fine by tomorrow night. Let’s go to dinner again. Let me pick the place this time.”

  “Do you know someplace quiet, out of the way? Someplace tourists never see. I want to be able to talk the way we did last Sunday.”

  A slow smile slid across his lips. “Someplace romantic?”

  “Yes,” she insisted. “If you like places with crowds and loud music, go with your male friends.”

  “I don’t like crowds and loud music, and most of my friends are married now. We haven’t gone out looking for hookups with girls for a very long time.” He coaxed her onto his lap. “I love having you here, but I’m not some kid you have to blow each time you come in.”

  She slid her fingers through the soft curls at his nape and widened her eyes in mock innocence. “You didn’t like it?”

  “A dead man would have liked it, but I don’t want to stop there.” He kissed the line of her jaw, sucked her earlobe to make her giggle and gave her a long, slow kiss. “I think there’s some ice cream in the freezer.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Later.”

  “Will you tell me where you live so I can pick you up at your place?”

  She rubbed her forehead against his. It was such a simple request and so natural a step she couldn’t say no. She could substitute Miro prints for her framed magazine covers and welcome him in. “I’ll give you my address when I leave. I’ll meet you downstairs and invite you to come in and see the kittens after dinner.”

  “Fine.” He ran his tongue over her lower lip. “I’ve been dying to see the kittens.”

  She laughed into his kiss. Everything about him felt good. She bet he had been gangly and awkward when he was a kid, but he’d definitely outgrown it. She ended the kiss to catch a breath. “I wanted to be ballerina. I actually had the talent, but by twelve, I was too tall. It was a huge disappointment.”

  “I know disappointment.” He kissed her throat and unbuttoned the top button on her shirt and then the second. She had on lacy ecru lingerie, and he sat back as he unbuttoned the last buttons and eased her out of the shirt. “You have the most beautiful underwear.”

  “And not a single pair of black boxers,” she teased. “I think we should go back to the futon before you fall over backwards and dump us both on the floor. I don’t want to see you hurt any worse than you already are.”

  “Good plan.” He eased her off his lap and stood. “Maybe if I went very slowly, we could go up on the loft.”

  She kicked off her flats. “Why don’t you save your energy? We can climb up there the next time I’m here.”

  “You so sure I’ll invite you back?” He pulled his shirt off over his head.

  She peeled off her jeans and rolled them up to set aside. “You better, or I’ll leave the kittens on your doorstep.”

  “You’re threatening me with kittens?” He caught her hand and spun her around so he could unfasten her bra. He slid off her thong and stared at her heart-shaped pubic curls.
“Do you change the shape with the seasons?”

  She unbuttoned his shorts. “I rather like the heart, but I suppose I could turn it into a little house just for you.”

  He laughed so hard he nearly tripped taking off his shorts. “I’ve never inspired that level of devotion in anyone.”

  “Don’t gloat. You haven’t inspired it yet.”

  “I’ll regard it as a challenge,” he growled against her throat as he eased her down on the futon. “You have the most beautiful skin.” He kissed the inside of her elbows and sucked lightly at her breasts. Clean-shaven, he rubbed his cheek against her delicate nipples without leaving a scratch. He licked her belly button to make her giggle and then slid his fingers into her. He stretched out to kiss her inner thighs. “You smell so good. Do you put perfume behind your knees?”

  “It works, doesn’t it?” She slid her fingers through his hair.

  “Everything works with you.” He twisted two fingers inside her and licked her slit, teasing her open with the tip of his tongue. “Am I doing all right?”

  Ana opened her eyes and smiled. “You’re doing beautifully, but you can’t stop until I tell you to.”

  “Is that one of your rules?” He stroked her with his thumb.

  “One of them. You’ve created the most delicious ache.” She placed her hand over his. “I like your mouth better.”

  He drew in a deep breath, and licked her until she writhed beneath him and thanked him with a soft sigh. He pulled on the condom he’d had ready and thrust into her slowly. “You’ve such a glorious heat, like bubbling honey.”

  Raising her arms above her head, she thanked him through a breathy sigh. He taunted her with deep thrusts and carried her into another shuddering release. When he buried his face in her hair, she wrapped him in her arms and held him tight as though she’d never let him go.

  Chapter Five

  Alejandro got up during the night and found a blanket to cover them, but Ana slept too deeply to stir. They remained in a blissful tangle until dawn, and she awoke still smiling. She eased herself out of his arms, dressed and, as promised, wrote her address and phone number on her placemat. Before leaving his studio, she took several photos of him hugging the twisted blanket as tightly as he’d held her. She left quietly and drove herself home. Fatima arrived soon after she’d left the shower.