Island Affair (Keys to Love #1)(75)
Instead, he’d listened, comforted his beloved in her last days. Bestowed the forgiveness she sought as she died, leaving him to take out his pain and anger on his brother. Without achieving his own sense of closure.
Years later, Luis remained unable to trust. Or move on.
No wonder he wasn’t keen about lying to Sara’s family and had been adamant about keeping her away from his.
Mamá Alicia’s caution whispered in Sara’s ear: Cuidado con lo que pides.
Sara had wished for a way out of the mess Ric’s no-show had spawned. Now she found herself facing an even bigger, potentially heartbreaking fiasco if she wasn’t careful.
Stretching out her arm, she snagged her water off the nightstand. She took a swig, but the metallic taste of unease lingered.
“Quit stalling or you lose your turn.” Luis nudged her knee with the back of his hand.
He adjusted the fluffy pillow lodged between him and the white upholstered headboard, then snagged a raw carrot from the platter on the mattress between them.
Earlier, after disposing of the second condom, he’d grabbed a pair of boxers, then run downstairs for snacks while she peed and cleaned up in their bathroom. Sara hadn’t bothered digging out clothes, choosing instead to slip on Luis’s black tank.
If she had buried her nose in the material and inhaled his earthy scent before putting it on . . . well, he didn’t have to know. By the time she heard the wooden steps creaking his ascent, Sara had scrambled back on the bed in his shirt and a pair of panties.
He’d returned balancing a serving platter overflowing with green grapes, baby carrots, and a hunk of Gouda cheese with one hand. In the other, he’d clutched a resealable bag of baked pita chips and two water bottles.
Let her go on record as stating what an absolute turn-on it was to see a man with a body that looked like it’d been sculpted by Rodin’s talented hands, and a mischievous smile that made her pulse blip stroll into her bedroom. Especially when he came bearing food meant to silence her growling stomach.
Would you rather stay in this bed with me all week or are you still hung up on the ex who clearly didn’t deserve you?
Sara took another healthy swig of water, stalling. He nudged her knee again, and she glowered at his impatience.
She swallowed, tried to work up the nerve to ask a more personal question, then chickened out and went for another generic one.
“Okay, would you rather bungee-jump or skydive?”
“Easy. Bungee-jump.” He snagged another carrot. “I already went skydiving on a weekend trip to Orlando with Carlos a few years ago. You?”
“Skydived with some sorority sisters at a place outside Tempe when we were in college. Might bungee-jump.” She hitched a shoulder in a not-sure shrug. “I’m on the fence.”
“How come?”
She picked up a slice of Gouda and nibbled on a corner, considering. When she looked up, she caught Luis staring at her mouth. Self-conscious, she licked her lips, catching a crumble of the nutty, smoky cheese with her tongue.
Heat flared in Luis’s dark eyes, the deep mahogany deepening to a rich reddish-brown.
Sara’s breath hitched. Lust throbbed in secret places that should have been sated after their spine-melting romps. Should have been, but far from it.
Which left her with two options for how to answer his question: keeping things simple and focusing on the great sex or digging deeper and pressing for a different kind of intimacy.
“I’m on the fence because the thought of some big rubber band keeping me from certain death doesn’t compute all that well in my brain. Sure, taking risks has helped me get ahead in my career. But I’m not too keen on situations with a high probability of me getting hurt.”
Like falling for a guy who couldn’t, wouldn’t, resolve his past.
Luis bit into a baby carrot, the crunch loud in the quiet room. He chewed. Swallowed. All the while his inscrutable gaze remained on her.
“I can respect that,” he finally said.
Sara released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Uncrossing her legs, she kept her left knee bent to avoid knocking their food platter and extended her right leg to prop her foot on the pillow. All the while wondering if he understood the subtext of her answer or if his thoughts remained on thrill-seeking vacation adventures.
“My turn,” he said, and she swore she heard a challenge in his words.
Head tilted pensively, he scratched his jaw. The motion had her recalling the feel of his scruff rubbing against her sensitive skin, rough and tantalizing.
Maybe she should stop reading into their situation. Enjoy it for what it was . . . an island fling that her inability to stand up for herself with her family had put into motion. Her therapist would have a field day with this if—no, when—Sara revealed the details. She knew the danger of hiding from the truth.
“Would you rather . . . ?” He paused, and damn if the calculating look in his eyes didn’t have her wondering what he might be up to.
“Would you rather maintain the undercurrent of tension with your sister or have a heart-to-heart while you’re on neutral turf here?”
Bam!
Talk about not wasting time with subtext and just tossing a grenade in the middle of their game!
Annoyed, with herself for tiptoeing and with him for barging right into the morass of her family drama, Sara pushed herself toward the foot of the bed. Away from a discussion she wasn’t particularly interested in having.