The Best Bet

by Hebby Roman

But he didn’t ask. He’d forced the issue earlier and made her cry. He didn’t want to do that again. With Adriana, he needed to go slowly, very slowly, drawing her out bit by bit. But that took time, lots of time—a luxury he didn’t have unless he got the job at UNLV and returned to live here.

  “My parents moved to Las Vegas for my mother’s career, and I was born,” she continued. “My mother had met my father in undergraduate school and when she finished her degree and became a nurse, the University hospital offered her a job in Vegas. My father got a job in one of the casinos. And my brother is following in my parents’ footsteps, pursuing a medical career. He’s in the last few weeks of his residency.

  That’s about it. As you know, I didn’t choose medicine.” She made a face and laughed, but the laughter was forced. “Must be a recessive gene because I can’t stand the sight of blood. Business management was a safer choice.”

  Just as he’d thought, the bare outline and nothing more. She’d left out all the important parts: how hard it had been on her father to leave medicine, the impact on their family moving for her mother’s career, and why Adriana had picked business management when there were plenty of other subjects that didn’t involve blood?

  He knew her mother’s death had affected her, but he sensed that wasn’t all of it. What could be so painful in her past that she wanted to distance herself from him and refuse to open up? There was one safe question he could ask. It had struck him when she’d mentioned business management.

  “But you’re still following in your father’s footsteps in a way,” he said. “Didn’t you say he’s in management, too?”

  “Yes, that’s true, though I never thought of it that way. My father’s been a great help to me,” she added. “He found the job for me at Xanadu and negotiated my hours so I would have time to go to class and study. He even hired a housekeeper, so I wouldn’t have to take care of the house.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “You live at home with your father?”

  “That’s not so strange, you know. It’s what a good Latina girl does until she marries.”

  He shook his head. “We’re more progressive in Texas.”

  “Oh, yeah? What about your two sisters? Do they live at home?”

  Really? She was going to confront him with that? But he should have seen it coming, though it didn’t make any sense. He’d told her that his sisters were still in high school. Adriana was long past high school, and she was definitely old enough to have her own place.

  “Of course they both live at home. But it’s not the same. They’re still in high school.”

  “Will your parents allow them to go away to school?”

  “If they want to.”

  “If they go away, they’ll stay in supervised dormitories, won’t they?”

  She’d turned the tables on him again. Gazing at her perfect heart-shaped face, he couldn’t help but admire her. She was quick.

  “Probably, for the first couple of years. After that, I’m sure my parents will let them get apartments.”

  “Is that what you and your twin did in college?”

  “Yes.”

  She wagged one slender finger at him. “Don’t be so certain it will be the same for your sisters. It’s different for men in our culture. Women are protected and kept at home. You’re a professor in sociology, with an emphasis on Mexican-American culture. You know I’m right.”

  He sighed. “Yeah, you’re probably right. My parents are very protective of my sisters. But I’ve known other Mexican-American women who . . .” He faltered, seeing the warning look in her eyes.

  She scowled at him. “I don’t want to know about your conquests, Rafael. It’s indiscreet and not what a gentleman would talk about. ¿Entiéndes?”

  There she went again, climbing up on her soapbox to preach, blowing the situation all out of proportion. He didn’t want to be paranoid, but it felt like she waited for him to say the wrong thing so she could pounce on it.

  “I wasn’t going to tell you about my ‘conquests.’ I was going to give you some examples of friends who—”

  “Friends, is it? That’s rich. More like lovers, I would guess.” She arched one eyebrow and licked her lips.

  He jumped to his feet. “¡Basta! That’s enough. That wasn’t what I was going to talk about. What do you take me for?”

  He thrust his hands in his pockets and paced across the grassy hill, wanting to walk off his anger. After taking several deep breaths, he turned and faced her. “What gives you the right, Adriana?” His voice shook, but he didn’t care. “What makes you the moral voice of mankind?”

  He pushed his hand through his hair and gazed at her, wondering what made her tick. She dressed provocatively and her kisses were anything but innocent. But it was like a push-pull kind of thing with her. She seemed to invite him closer, only to withdraw it at the last moment. Or was he crazy and imagining all of this?

  As hard as he tried, he just couldn’t get a reading on her. And she’d hurt him again, wounded him with her moralizing, making him feel as if he were on trial and trying to prove himself once more.

  She opened her mouth to speak, shook her head, and closed it again. Lowering her head, she purposely ignored him, while concentrating on pushing the tamales around on her plate.

  “I would like to meet your father,” he said.

  She lifted her head. “Why?”

  “Did he make you this way? Accusing and moralizing and thinking the worst of people and—”

  “Stop!” she shouted.

  She was in his face before he could finish the sentence. Her hands came up, her bright red fingernails raised in warning, like a wildcat’s claws poised to strike. He grabbed her wrists and held her talons away from his face.

  “What did I say? Is it too close to the truth?” This wasn’t like him, pressing his point home, purposely antagonizing her. Somehow, she managed to bring out the worst in him, along with the best.

  “Don’t you talk about my father,” she hissed.

  “Why not? You’ve put me down since I met you. Someone made you this way, Adriana.” Having said that, he just kept going. “And who made you shrink from life? Who made you put a barrier between yourself and everyone else?”

  Her head came up, and her indigo eyes spit fire. “You’re wrong, so wrong about me, Rafael. And now it’s you who’s moralizing, telling me how to live my life. It’s none of your business where I live. You don’t even know me.” She twisted her wrists in his grasp, and he let her go.

  So much for going slow and easy, for winning her trust, bit by bit.

  “But it is my business. I might not know much about you but I want to. You’re right that we haven’t known each other for very long but that doesn’t change the way I feel about you. The way I’ve felt since I first met you.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I care about you.”

  “You don’t care about me, Rafael, because you couldn’t. You don’t know me, so how could you really care about me? Oh, you’re drawn to the package—I get that.” Her chest rose and fell rapidly. “But if you really cared about me as you say you do, you wouldn’t probe my personal life and tell me what’s wrong with me, as if I had some kind of sickness.”

  He rocked back on his heels, surprised by her vehemence. She’d just made him feel like a scumbag. And maybe she was right. Maybe he was just drawn to her beauty, and her aloofness posed a challenge to him. Or maybe he was rushing things because he knew they didn’t have much time.

  He was trying to see it from her perspective, but por Dios, it was hard. After all was said and done, she could only give him what she was willing to give. If he couldn’t get to know the internal Adriana, if he couldn’t learn what made her tick, like he’d wanted to, then he’d accept what she was willing to offer.

  And even though he might have led a fairly sheltered life, but he wasn’t completely naive. From the way Adriana had kissed him to the sexy way she dressed, both last night and today, and the sweet way that she’d nestled against him
earlier, the tell-tale signs were all there. She wanted an affair, nothing more.

  And he could do that. Couldn’t he?

  Por Dios, he’d be happy to accommodate her. More than happy. Just the thought of it aroused him, turning him hard as the concrete wall of Hoover Dam.

  Okay, so he’d play it by her rules. But deep inside, he knew he’d never quit trying to understand her; never quit trying to convince her of how much he cared. He closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms, capturing her mouth with his.

  Chapter Six

  Adriana welcomed Rafael’s kiss, surrendering to his strong arms encircling her and to the wondrous sensation of his mouth covering hers. Closing her eyes, she savored the feel of his lips against hers, tenderly molding and gently exploring.

  It had been a long time, too long, since she’d given herself to the touch of a man. Suppressed needs rushed through her, making her dizzy. Her arms came up and twined about his neck, pulling him closer, relishing his masculine strength and his hard muscled body pressed against hers.

  This was how it was to feel like a woman. And it had been such a long time since she felt like a woman—an eternity of time.

  Too soon, he broke their kiss and gazed into her eyes. His brow was furrowed, and uncertainty lurked in the depths of his decadent chocolate-colored eyes.

  “I’m sorry for the way I acted earlier.” Gently, he stroked her face from her forehead to her chin, running his fingertips lightly over her skin. She shuddered at his touch.

  “I don’t know what got into me,” he admitted. “I don’t usually act like that. But we have so little time, and I wanted to get to know you. I realize it was rude on my part and I—”

  “Don’t,” she interrupted, placing her index finger across his lips. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t say anything wrong.”

  Except about my father.

  He didn’t know her father, couldn’t know him and the sacrifices he’d made, the dreams he’d given up for his family. But to have Rafael’s strong arms around her, to feel the warmth of his chest pressed against her breasts, she was willing to overlook his mistake.

  “I don’t know why I made such a federal case of it.” She shrugged. “A bad habit I’ve picked up at work, I guess.”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he kissed her restraining finger. Growing bolder, he ran his tongue up and down the length of it. And then he moved to her second finger and ran his tongue up and down it. Each in turn, he licked her fingers and then, one by one, he pulled each of her fingers into his mouth and suckled them gently. His eyes never left hers.

  She leaned back against the circle of his arms, relishing his tongue and lips on her sensitive skin. The spicy scent of his aftershave, combined with the male smell of him, teased her nose. Shimmering waves of heat washed over her. Her stomach fisted and lower, the warmth spread.

  And her gaze locked with his.

  Daring more, his tongue darted between her fingers, brushing the tender junctures with feathery strokes, turning her insides to water, making her knees tremble.

  She gasped, her eyes widening.

  His gaze held her fast, a tender trap. The chocolate color of his eyes deepened, and the darker pupils dilated. She shifted on her feet and wriggled in his arms, the feel of his catlike-rough tongue on the skin of her hand so intense that she wanted to scream. She started to pull away, thought better of it, and stood perfectly still, closing her eyes and sighing.

  He kissed the palm of her hand and trailed his mouth up her bare arm, kissing and licking as he went and then blowing lightly on her wet skin. The sensation was almost unbearable, so exquisite in a titillating way. She shuddered and the blood heated in her veins, moving thickly through her limbs like honey.

  His lips and tongue circled her neck, gifting her with butterfly strokes, wetting her sensitized flesh, and nipping at her ear. She loosed her hands from his neck, swayed, and gripped his shoulders. Holding on tight, she gave herself over to the too sweet pleasure, feeling her breasts grow heavy with need, swelling with passion. Her nipples hardened and pushed against the cotton of her halter top.

  She leaned into him, and her sensitive nipples rubbed against the fabric of his shirt. Holding him this close, she could feel his lean muscled body beneath the flimsy cambric cloth. She thrilled, holding him close like this. A slow curl of heat started in her stomach, spiraling downward, making her ache for him.

  She knew she was affecting him, too. Both their chests heaved up and down, like runners crossing the finish line. Their hearts beat double time, tapping out the rhythm together. And they clung to each other as if this would be both the first and the last time.

  Despite the cool mountain air, a fine sheen of perspiration covered her skin. And lower, the liquid heat just kept building and building. She could feel herself contracting, the muscles at the apex of her thighs gathering themselves.

  OMG, was she going to climax in his arms, just from him licking and sucking her fingers? She’d never been so turned on in all her life.

  She pulled him closer and their mouths fused. She could feel his mounting passion, too. The hard bulge of him strained against her abdomen. Thinking about his arousal, she felt a gush of liquid between her thighs, wetting her panties. She was so hot and so needy that it hurt.

  He cupped the back of her head in his hands and gently traced his lips over her face, pausing to softly kiss each closed eyelid. His cheek rubbed against hers, scratchy and rough from his beard. She let him taste and explore her, reveling in the strength of his arms juxtaposed with the tenderness of his kisses. Being in his arms was like going home and discovering a whole new world at the same time.

  Her lips opened beneath his, drinking him in, welcoming him. The joining of their mouths was warm and moist and supple. Their lips fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. He explored the contours of her mouth, nipping and nibbling, rubbing his tongue over her lips but not seeking entrance.

  She opened her eyes and sighed. He took the breath of her body into his mouth. Their lips clung together, and an unbearable hunger rose in her like a wild thing. She opened her mouth wider and thrust her tongue inside his mouth, initiating the intimate contact. Her nails curved into his shoulders, claiming him, branding him as hers.

  He returned her hunger, met her passion with his own. His mouth pressed down harder, more insistent now. His hands dropped and he held her at the waist, bending her back against the brace of his arms. His tongue plundered her mouth, too, delving deep inside and circling, mating with her tongue.

  His hands on her waist were like steel vises, pulling her down, urging her to kneel. They tumbled together onto the quilt, a crazy jumble of legs and arms. He lost no time in pulling her close and recapturing her mouth.

  Lying beside him, she felt the hot shaft of his desire between her thighs. Mindless with need, she pressed herself against him and moaned in the back of her throat. His hands came up and brushed across her halter top, skimming the outline of her breasts. Arching her back, she thrust her breasts against the palms of his hands, silently begging for more.

  He cupped her breasts through the thin material. His fingertips grazed the naked skin beneath her arms, leaving a scorched path across her sensitive flesh. Reaching under her halter top, he stroked her naked breasts.

  His fingertips splayed over her nipples, caressing and arousing them to hard buds. Her legs thrashed and her vagina muscles cramped and tightened. She grew even wetter down there, so wet that she was afraid he’d touch her there and ... know. Know how much she wanted him.

  Know that he was driving her crazy with desire.

  Burrowing closer, she opened her legs, cupping the outline of his manhood between her thighs. Now it was his turn to moan, deep in his throat. He found the knot at the back of her halter top and undid it, eagerly tugging down the strips of fabric until her breasts were bared.

  He lifted his head from her mouth and gazed down at her naked chest. His eyes were fully dilated, liquid and dark with de
sire. “Qué lindas,” he murmured. “So beautiful.”

  His hands came up and encircled her breasts, stroking and caressing. She closed her eyes again and gave herself over to the sensation. His hands soothed and taunted, cherishing the rounded fullness of her breasts. His fingertips found her nipples again. Like a classical guitarist, he plucked her nipples, playing the strings of her desire like a wild untamed flamenco.

  Then she felt the warm, wet adhesion of his mouth on her breasts, replacing the trailing touch of his fingertips. The sensation of his mouth hit her like an exploding rocket. She lurched up and buried her hands in his soft, wavy hair, pulling him closer.

  Greedily, he suckled her breasts, ringing the aureoles with his tongue, pulling her nipples deeply into his mouth, only to nip them gently between his teeth and then lave the tiny hurt away.

  Adriana melted, puddled beneath the sun. Her reason had departed, all rational thought gone, leaving her a mindless jumble of sensation: of raw, demanding nerves and hot pulsing needs. Her hips bucked of their own accord, lifting off the quilt.

  He must have understood her need because he gentled her with his hands while his mouth worshipped her breasts. He cupped the juncture between her thighs and she shuddered, as she realized he must feel how hot and wet she was. But right now, she just didn’t care.

  He applied pressure with the palm of his hand while his fingertips started a delightful friction, rubbing the cloth of her shorts over her clitoris. She rode the crest and plunged headlong over. The pleasure was swift and sharp, a wave of pure sweet release, crashing over her and sweeping her away. The mountainside spun away. Suddenly, she was soaring with the eagles in the sky, drifting on a cloud of pleasure.

  He lifted his head from her breasts and buried his face against her neck, urging her, “Take the pleasure, mi amor. I care about you, and I want to take care of you in all ways. Por favor, let me give you pleasure, Adriana.”

  The after waves of her climax rolled over her. He was sweet, so sweet. And his tender words should have reassured her, but they didn’t. She knew what her surrender meant to him—not a simple release but something much more.