Faith's brows rose. "I'm a grown woman. That's not your call."
"You've been hurt enough as it is."
"He's got a right to be mad, don't you think?"
Russ stilled. "He knows?"
"No." She rubbed at the knot of fear and regret in her stomach. "But that doesn't change anything. It's his birthday tomorrow. If he wants to ring in the occasion by working out his frustration in the sack, well... I really don't mind. It's been a long assed dry spell for me and - "
Covering his ears, her brother was up and out the door in a heartbeat.
She was reaching for the phone when he poked his head back in. "What?" she asked.
"I'll run point tonight."
Her love for him swelled and constricted her chest. "You sure?"
"Absolutely. Mom said I'm losing my 'favorite uncle' status to Johnny. Can't have that. I have a rep to maintain."
Pressing her fingers to her lips, she blew him a kiss. "You can drop him off at Mrs. Santo's house in the morning before you come in to work. And have I told you lately that you're the best?"
"I've got a nasty right hook, too. You tell Miguel that if he gets out of hand."
Chapter 2
Faith stepped out of her classic red Corvette and sucked in a deep, fortifying breath. With one forearm on the frame of the driver's side window and the other on the roof, she stared at the small bungalow behind Victorian Secrets Bed and Breakfast. Its original purpose, back when the property had been built two hundred years ago, was as the housekeeper's residence. The main house was once the governor's mansion. Seated on two acres in the middle of an otherwise modern residential area, the two story bed and breakfast had a wide wraparound porch and huge yard.
God, the place had memories. She was certain Miguel had chosen it for that very reason. To unsettle her, maybe. Which was also the likely reason for why he didn't appear when she honked the horn. He was going to make her go inside, make her face the ghosts of their past.
Faith shoved the car door closed and headed for the bungalow's entrance. Her stilettos clicked across the driveway, beating out a staccato rhythm that couldn't keep up with her racing heart. With effort, she resisted the urge to smooth the skirt of her dress. It was classic black, in a soft jersey and wraparound style. The crisscrossing halves created a plunging neckline that revealed the upper swells of her br**sts and a hint of blue lace demi-bra, the hue of which matched her eyes. The whole ensemble was new, from her earrings to her heels.
She thought of it as armor. Her only defense against Miguel was his desire for her.
Reaching the door, she knocked on the inset glass. He called for her to come in, so she entered, but nothing could have prepared her for what she found inside.
"Sorry," he said, sounding completely unapologetic as he scrubbed at shower-damp hair with a towel. "I had a business call that took longer than expected."
He was nak*d.
She closed the door by stumbling back and leaning heavily against it, her knees weakened by a lust so ferocious it made her dizzy. Brazenly unabashed, Miguel stood in the living room completely nude, his gorgeous caramel-hued skin on display, his beautiful abs and biceps flexing as he dried himself. His body was the stuff of orgasmic dreams, hard and rippling with muscle. Wide shoulders tapering down to a lean waist and hips. Maturity graced him, turning his formerly sinewy and lanky body into a powerhouse of potent masculinity. He personified the fantasy of a sensual Latin lover, dripping sex and confidence, free of any inhibitions.
Her gaze fell to his c*ck and stayed there helplessly, her mouth watering at his virility. He was half-erect and impressive. When he was fully aroused, as he was quickly becoming under the avidity of her gaze, he was a sexual god. A small sound escaped her, a needy cry as her p**sy grew slick and soft with wanting. He had been her first lover, her virginity given to him in the bedroom that waited just a few feet behind him, a room in which he'd ruined her for other men.
Sharp possessiveness sunk its claws into her, curling her hands into fists. The need to claim him, and that decadently sinful body he'd once pledged to her, was so voracious she burned with it. Mine, she thought savagely. He's mine.
The towel fell to the floor.
Faith panted through parted lips as he came toward her in a riveting display of golden skin and sinuous muscle. His eyes, so dark they were nearly black, smoldered with carnal intent. The curve of his exquisite mouth was etched with cruelty. He was so hot with lust and anger she was surprised the dampness on his skin didn't steam away.
A shiver of fear sharpened the knife's edge of her hunger. She was aching with emptiness, tense with expectation, heartbroken that they should be at this place - wanting each other so deeply they were sick with it.
"Miguel," she breathed as his hands caught her by the hips.
"I can't go anywhere like this," he bit out, sounding furious. His face was pressed into her hair, his breathing harsh against her ear. One hand cupped the back of her thigh, kneading with almost painful squeezes as he moved up and under the hem of her dress. He palmed her bare cheek before sliding around to the front, growling when he found the wet satin covering her p**sy.
Faith gasped at the electric contact, her h*ps thrusting forward without volition.
Catching her around the waist with his arm, he hitched her up hard against him. His questing fingers found the edge of her thong's elastic band and eased beneath it, sliding through the silky moisture that slickened her folds to rub her clit.
She jolted against him, her body strung so tight she thought she might snap.
"You're hot and creamy, Faith," he taunted softly, circling the clenching opening of her vag**a. "And I'm hard and aching for you. Were you thinking of me when you stepped into this thong and pulled it on? Were you thinking of what it would do to me? How crazed it would make me? Did the thought of me desperate to f**k you turn you on?"
"Of course. It's been a long time. Wouldn't want there to be any awkwardness." Her voice came out with the husky assurance of a practiced seductress, but inside she was a young woman again, madly in love and overwhelmed by a hunger that could only be appeased by a man who resented her.
He tensed against her, his arm at her waist nearly crushing her. "And I wouldn't want to disappoint. How do you want it?"
She was about to reply when two long fingers pushed into her. She bit her lip to hold off an orgasm, fighting not to embarrass herself by showing just how long it had been since a man had touched her sexually.
"So tight, mi hermosa." He began to thrust. Easy and slow. Piercing her defenses with consummate skill. "Should I drill you with my fingers 'til you come, then have you return the favor with your mouth? Save the f**king for after dinner?"
"If we don't sweeten your temper, mi tesoro," she purred back, struggling to hide her roiling emotions, "I don't think I'll be going anywhere with you."
"We'll order in, then." His dark gaze was hard. "You'll need the energy."
Faith gripped his muscular ass and cli**xed against her will, pleasure rushing through her with a violence that stole her strength. If not for his grip, she would have sunk to the floor in a quivering mess.
"Such a greedy little cunt," he muttered hoarsely. "I've never forgotten how it feels around my cock."
Her body was flushed and misted with perspiration, her p**sy still trembling around his embedded fingers. She wondered if she'd survive the night. Miguel knew how to bare her soul in a way no one else could. She let him in so deeply, it sometimes felt as if she couldn't breathe without his touch, but he was so closed off with hurt and anger she knew she'd never reach him. Not like this.
"Kiss me," she ordered, her fingers digging into the rock-hard flesh of his perfect ass.
He turned his head so swiftly, he startled her. But when he sealed his mouth over hers, there was no urgency. His tongue licked across the seam of her parted lips, then dipped inside, teasing. His teeth nibbled at the strawberry gloss she knew he loved, his low moan vibrating against her br**sts. He ate at her mouth as if he had all the time in the world, as if she was the sweetest delicacy and he couldn't get enough. Her toes curled.
"Hold on," he whispered against her lips, confusing her. Then he ripped her panties off her body, rocking her on her stilettos.
The sharp bite of pain as the elastic dug into her h*ps before breaking only fueled her fierce determination to reach the tender, loving man she once knew. She lifted one leg and anchored it on his hip, but even with three-inch heels, she was too short to take his cock.
Miguel gripped the backs of her thighs and hefted her up. Her arms encircled his shoulders, their gazes meeting. His features were stark, his mouth a hard line. His penis throbbed against her, the thick length pressed between the parted folds of her sex. She pushed her fingers into his dark hair, the thick locks feeling like damp silk against her skin. The words she wanted to say burned her throat and tongue, explanations and declarations that would only cause more pain because the end would only be the same. Instead she said the only part of the truth that might help to heal... "I'm sorry, mi tesoro."
His eyes glistened for a moment and his throat worked on a hard swallow. "So am I."
Setting his jaw, he turned from the entrance, carrying her past the couch and through the open louvered double-doors to the bedroom. Faith didn't look away as they approached the bed, expecting the room had changed as much as they both had and wanting to remember it as it had been.
One of his hands slid up her spine to cradle the back of her head. He lowered her to the mattress as if she was cherished and breakable. Her back settled onto the cool comforter and she released him with reluctance, wishing only to hold him close, to soothe him, to say with her touch and body what she knew better than to say with words. He arranged her for his pleasure, with her h*ps at the edge of the bed. He stood between her spread legs, a sexual fantasy come to life, exuding dominance and forceful masculinity from every pore.
He tossed her skirt out of the way and took his c*ck in hand. Fisting it once. Twice. Color flagging his cheekbones, a wince betraying how hard he was. She opened wider for him, her thighs falling open, followed shortly by the untying of her dress and the parting of the halves. Arching her back, Faith raised her lace covered br**sts to him, remembering how he'd worshipped them in their youth. They were not what they'd been then; her body hadn't weathered the years as well as his. But it didn't seem to matter now. A decade slipped away as if it had never come between them at all. Here she was, only hours after his return, offering herself to him with no restraint. Desperate to regain the closeness they'd shared.
"Me vuelves loca," he groaned, angling his penis to stroke the thick crown through the lips of her p**sy, up and down, nudging her swollen cl*t with every pass.
Faith writhed with need, her chest tight with a yearning she was certain would destroy her when he left again. "You're driving me crazy. Don't tease me, Miguel."
There was no time for teasing. The hours between now and his departure were too precious to waste. Her stomach knotted at the thought, the urgency of time running away from her filled her with aching fear. How had she lived without this... without him for so long?
He watched her face as he rubbed his satiny cockhead against her. "But you're so beautiful like this. I've dreamt of you just this way."
"Stop dreaming," she said between clenched teeth. "Start f**king."
There was the slightest tease of a smile, which damn near stopped her heart, then he notched the tip of his magnificent c*ck in the entrance to her body. "Say it again. Tell me to f**k you."
Deliberately inciting him, she squeezed her breast is one hand and reached between her legs with the other. She scissored her fingers and gripped his shaft between her knuckles, licking her lips in blatant provocation. "Hazme el amor."
Make love to me.
He caught his lower lip between even white teeth, his features so austerely sexual she creamed in expectation, bathing him in a fresh rush of moisture. He slid in a fraction deeper and electricity raced across her skin. It had been so long... She'd missed him so much...
He filled her with a practiced roll of his hips, stretching her delectably. The familiar feeling of utter surrender swept over her, arching her neck and closing her eyes. "Miguel."
"Christ," he hissed, shuddering as he touched the end of her, the lips of her sex hugging the wide root of his cock. "You're burning up and so f**king tight. Squeezing me like a fist."
Her hand moved to his bare hip, her heavy eyelids lifting so she could watch him move. Sex was an art for Miguel. Even as a teenager, hot with hormones and inexhaustible energy, he'd had finesse. Orgasm was a bonus for him; the buildup to getting there was what he really savored. His haste to get inside her, his crudity, told her how hurt he was and how closely he nursed that pain. How determined he was to depersonalize an act that was profoundly intimate for them. She couldn't blame him for that, not when she was responsible. She'd made a clean break between them with the best of intentions, but regardless, she'd broken both their hearts and while he'd left her with something precious, she'd sent him off with only feelings of betrayal.
With his gaze riveted to the place where their bodies joined, Miguel pulled his heavy c*ck from her in a slow, wet glide. He splayed his hands on her inner thighs, his skin so dark against hers, his grip gentle but unyielding. He held her open as he surged forward, pushing pleasure through her aching body. In a deliciously erotic display of rippling abdominal muscles and powerfully veined biceps, he f**ked her with perfect rhythm. He worked her p**sy into a blissful relaxed state so that she took him more easily, so that each push and withdrawal became more fluid.
Faith moaned, insensate with lust and longing. Her nails, short as they were, left crescents in his skin. "You're so big... God, it's so good..."
"Oh yeah," he purred, watching her with slumberous eyes. "So damn good."
He pumped deep and rotated his h*ps against her, stirring her into a frenzy with his rock-hard length. Her p**sy rippled with delight and he growled, grabbing her h*ps and lifting them into his thrusts.