Fierce Pride (23 page)

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Authors: Phoebe Conn

BOOK: Fierce Pride
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“I’ve been here six years. I love being near the water.”

“I do too.”

Manuel drove her home without asking any questions, and she wasn’t certain anything she could say would make any sense anyway. Santos hadn’t moved, and she dropped the folder on the patio table. “He isn’t a member, but he was casually dressed as though he intended to take his yacht out for a cruise. I didn’t want to grill the secretary about the security at the marina, but could someone get in to sabotage your boat?”

Santos stared at her, his gaze dark. “If he’d been there to sabotage the boat, he would have been dressed in work clothes as though he had a right to be there. Besides, no one would expect me to go sailing with my knee torn up as badly as it is. I think it’s more likely he followed you. You weren’t actually in the marina, were you?”

Libby felt sick. “No, I’d just walked that far and sat on one of the benches by the parking lot to eat the orange I’d taken. He just walked up and asked if he could sit with me. I didn’t want any company and left.”

Santos picked up the photo to study it again. “There has to be something behind this we just can’t see. I’ve never cheated anyone at anything, so there’s no one carrying a grudge or I’d know about it. There are crazy fans, and the artist could be one of them. Then we have Victoria and this guy with the protestors. Did he give you his name?”

“No, and I didn’t care what his was until I got back here and recognized him in the photo. I shouldn’t have missed the opportunity to ask him.” Restless, she paced beside him on the sandy patio tile.

“Javier may get it tomorrow night at the protestors’ meeting. Would you like to eat lunch out here?”

“I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Eat anyway. I can’t have you fainting the next time something odd happens here, which will probably be within the hour.”

“They’re way past odd,” she argued.

Santos caught her hand to pull her close and lowered his voice. “I can’t think of a way to use the Hispano-Suiza with my knee in a brace. The closet with my suits would work as a substitute for the elevator if we push everything back a couple of feet.”

Libby had to laugh. “I thought the security company planned to have men working in the house this afternoon.”

Santos’s smile turned sly. “Yes, they will, but I don’t do threesomes.”

“What a shame.” When he looked badly startled, she leaned over to kiss him. “I’m teasing you. I don’t do threesomes either, but let’s wait until all the workmen have left for the day.”

Santos shrugged. “If we must.”

“Won’t worrying that Mrs. Lopez might discover what we’re doing be enough excitement for you?”

He looked sincerely sorry. “It will have to be.”

 

 

With Manuel’s help, Santos held on to the banister and hopped up the front stairs. When he reached the top, he thanked Manuel and leaned against the wall to catch his breath. Libby followed him into the hallway and waited for the chauffeur to leave by the back staircase. When they were certain the household staff was busy elsewhere, Santos unlocked the closet door.

Libby pulled the light string, entered and shoved the gorgeous trajes de luces back on both poles. “Is this enough space for you?” she whispered.

“It’s perfect.” He closed the door and locked it from inside. He leaned his crutches against the wall and, facing her, got a grip on both clothes poles. “Take off everything.”

She unbuttoned his shorts. “We’re pretending this is an elevator, remember? If someone presses the call button, I can’t step out naked.” She spread light kisses along his jaw. “It smells like your intoxicating scent in here.”

He sucked in a deep breath. “Will I lose my appeal when other men are able to buy it?”

She yanked the string to turn out the light and enveloped the small room in darkness deeper than a moonless night. She slid her hands under his polo shirt and raked her nails lightly across his abs. “I very seriously doubt it.” She unzipped his shorts to free his cock and stroked the smooth tip. “Everything about you is appealing.”

“Take you hair down,” he whispered.

She did it with one hand without releasing him and shook her head. He caught her mouth for a luscious kiss, and she moved close to trap his cock against her belly. “Sneaking sex in an elevator is supposed to be fast and primal, isn’t it?”

He brushed his lips over hers. “This elevator isn’t going anywhere, so there’s no rush. Take off your sweater.”

She heard someone moving down the hall and froze, but they walked right on by. Santos licked her ear, and she muffled a giggle against his chest. They were so close, and brushing against him filled her with a warming desire that pooled low in her belly. No longer caring what game they were playing, she pulled off her sweater, unzipped her jeans and stepped out of them.

He tossed his shirt aside. “Take off everything,” he urged.

She complied, almost. “I never take off my bra.”

“Why not?” He let go of the pole with his left hand to strain her hair through his fingers.

She worked his cock with both hands. “I don’t have any figure at all without it.”

“You must have nipples.”

“True, but…”

“Nipples are very sensitive,” he breathed out against her cheek. “Set them free.”

His voice was low, deep, seductive, and while she worried she’d be sorry, she unfastened her bra and gave it a toss. When he slid his fingertips over her breast, she gasped with the unexpected thrill.

“See, I was right, wasn’t I?” He leaned down to lick her left nipple and suck it tenderly. He blew across the tight bud to add a sudden chill.

She wound her hand in his hair. “Do that again.”

“My pleasure.” He moved to her right breast and twirled his tongue over the nipple’s proud pink tip.

She sighed as he sucked and lapped and blew to make her shiver. “We ought to hurry,” she murmured.

“Why, when our elevator is trapped between floors. We might be forced to stay here for hours.” He slid his hand over her flat stomach and down through the soft curls hiding her slit. He tugged lightly. “I remembered a condom this time.”

“They ought to have a vending machine in elevators to supply them.”

Santos nearly choked trying not to laugh. “There’s a business opportunity I’d not considered.”

He’d gone commando, but she couldn’t push his shorts past his brace. She cupped his bare butt and whispered, “You have such a fine body. It’s a shame you have to hide it most of the time.”

“I owe it all to my personal trainer.”

“She must be very good.”

“She’s incredibly talented.” He caught her mouth and held her close with his free hand. “You always taste so sweet.”

She wound her arms around his neck and rubbed her breasts over his chest. He slid his hand between her legs, and she widened her stance to welcome him. They moved together so naturally, so easily, and she loved every second of it. “Is this one of your old standards?”

“It’s rapidly becoming one,” he slurred between kisses.

She breathed in, and the darkness sharpened her senses to make his scent, touch and taste even more powerful. It was far too good to last, and knowing it wouldn’t, her eyes stung with a threat of tears, and she blinked them away. She whisked her hand under his balls and felt him jump.

“Do that again,” he murmured.

She did. He was already so hard she saw no reason to wait. She found the condom in the pocket of his shorts and ripped it open. She ran her knuckles up his belly. “We’re going to use this before I get carried away.”

“If we must.”

She rolled it down his cock slowly, deliberately taking her time to sheath him properly. She hooked her leg over his hip to open herself fully. He teased her with the tip of his cock, circling her clit and sliding along her dripping wet slit with a self-control that amazed her. She guided his hand to push him into her, but he went slowly, withdrawing and surging with a taunting rhythm. She bit his shoulder, but not hard, just a nibble and thrust her hips against him.

He froze at sounds in the hall, leaving her aching on the rim of release. She moved then, rocking him against the door. He tightened his hold to keep her still, but she twisted to carry him over the brink with her. She clung to him as he pulsed into her, riding his pleasure as well as her own. Surrounded by an inky darkness, tucked away from the world, it felt so deliciously wicked she ached all the way to her toes.

“I’m lost,” he whispered in her ear, still within her.

“We’re in your closet.”

“Not that kind of lost.”

She understood perfectly and held him tight. It wasn’t just sex to him either, but she wouldn’t spoil the moment with needless talk. When she could bear to, she broke free. He shucked off the condom, and she helped him pull up his shorts. She buttoned the button. “Don’t you dare turn on the light until I’m dressed.”

“I wouldn’t embarrass you.”

She kissed him hard. “Good. Remember that.” She felt around by their feet for her bra, found his shirt and drew it over his head. He tweaked her nipples with his thumb, and she batted his hand away. “That’s not fair.”

“Why not?”

“It just isn’t.” She bent down again and found her panties and sweater, but her bra wasn’t lying close. She donned the panties and sweater, and the soft knit rubbed her tender breasts and made her gasp.

“What’s wrong?” he asked

“Not a thing.”

She got down on the floor and found her jeans. Relieved to again be almost fully clothed, she pulled them on. She reached for the string, and the closet shone with too bright a light. “Sorry.” She combed her hair with her fingers and pulled the elastic from her wrist. Her bra had landed on the shoulder of one of his suits, and he handed it to her.

She stuffed it into her pocket. “Thank you.” She reached up to pat his hair into place. “You look great, as always.”

“Thank you. Sex gives your cheeks a pretty blush.” He kissed her lightly again. “Now it smells like sex in here.”

She hoped the scent lasted forever. “This is your closet. Go out first.”

He reached for his crutches. She saw him wince.

“Oh no, did I hurt your knee?”

“No, it hurts enough on its own, but I feel too good now to care.”

“You shouldn’t be suffering. Maybe you need a stronger pain killer.”

“You are better than any drug.” He turned to open the door and stepped into the hall. “Come on out, there’s no one here. I’m not going to be able to make it downstairs and back up. Will you please tell Tomas we’d like to eat dinner in my room?”

“I’m not sure I can navigate the stairs either, but I’ll give it a try.” She was halfway down the stairs when she looked down and saw her nipples peeking through the knit of her sweater. She quickly turned around and hurried to her room to put on her bra. Santos had gone to his room, and she rapped lightly at his door before looking in.

“Why didn’t you tell me to put on my bra before I went downstairs?”

Santos reclined on his bed, holding his guitar. “Was something wrong?” he asked innocently.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t notice how it looked.”

His grin gave him away. “Maybe I did, but I’d promised not to embarrass you.”

“You are a veritable prince.”

“Yes, I know.”

She wished she had something to throw at him but closed his door quietly and went to speak to Tomas.

 

 

Tomas insisted upon serving multiple courses, and Julian carried each one upstairs on a tray. Santos had stayed in bed to rest his leg, and Libby sat at a small table pulled close to his bed. There was a sweet potato soup topped with a dollop of sour cream that was so good she hummed through every spoonful. “Would Tomas give me some of his recipes if I asked?”

“He might. He’s very fond of you.”

“I don’t want to take advantage.”

“He wouldn’t see it that way. Do you like to cook?”

She swallowed the last drop of soup. “I’ve been meaning to learn. I suppose all his recipes would be in Spanish. Maggie could translate them for me. She might want to try some of them too.”

Julian arrived with asparagus wrapped in thinly sliced ham topped with melted cheese. He removed their empty bowls before placing their plates on the table. “Thank you so much,” Libby said. She took a bite and sighed happily. “I can see how to make this, but I suppose the art is in selecting the perfect cheese.”

He adjusted his pillows. “I’ve fixed this one myself.”

She paused in mid-bite. “You enjoy cooking?”

“Why does that shock you? I liked having my own apartment and being able to eat whenever I wanted. Do you live in a dorm?”

“No, my sorority house. It’s nice to my have friends close. I grew up with sisters, so I’d rather not live alone.”

“I doubt you’d be alone for long.”

His sly smile made his meaning clear. She ignored it. “You’re right, roommates are good for sharing expenses.”

“Not if they’re men who’d hope to do more than help with the rent.”

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