Mi Carino - Risky Love Page 8

  “You came to a vineyard in a three piece suit. Those shoes of yours could probably be a down payment on a car. Look around. If you planned this you could have been a bit more relaxed in your attire.”

  After a pause he did as she asked. His gaze swept the other men chatting it up with their companions. Most wore jeans and sneakers. “I see your point. But you too are a bit over dressed.”

  Chewing off another bite of her burger she covered her mouth while she spoke. “Yeah, but I have an excuse I was at work. Doesn’t matter, though, it’s raining now. No way to prepare for the rain. You know black women don’t like to get their hair wet.”

  “Is that so?”

  She nodded. “Look for the sister in the crowd she’s the furthest away from the rain.”

  “Ah, I see. It means you too need to loosen up. The rain can be a cleansing.”

  “Is that what the rainmaker told you?” She half joked.

  “I say we see who is the most uptight.” Marcella drank the rest of her wine. She felt warm and loose all over. When he rose she smiled up at him not sure of his intentions. “Where are you going?” Diego reached for her. His hands strong and determined. At first she thought he wanted to force her to stand. She grabbed his arms to hold to him as he brought her up out of the bench. “Hey wait a second…”

  The man was strong. Without permission he lifted her higher and threw her over her shoulder. Marcella gasped, now hanging upside down. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Loosening up.” He said.

  “Diego! Put me down! Now!”

  With her hands flat to his back she lifted to see others staring in shock. This bear of man carried a screaming, kicking woman out of the pavilion. As soon as they stepped into the downpour Marcella went stiff. She started to scream all over again. “No! No! No!”

  Diego marched out to the open field that led to where the cars were parked, in front of everyone, nonplussed about the spectacle they made of themselves. The cold downpour drenched her coat making it heavy along her back and arms. The pour soaked her hair and ran rivulets of rainwater down her face. She kicked her legs in protest and hit his back repeatedly. “Damn it!” She yelled, and then chuckled in defeat. Reduced to laughter, Diego let her down slowly. The strong definition of his hard frame against hers made the glide down his body divine and her knees weak. Marcella looked up into his face. She had to squint as the rain poured over them skewing her vision. His dark curly hair flat to his head, diamond drops dripped from his long lashes. She touched the side of his jaw amazed at how much more handsome he was in that moment.

  “Is this loose enough for you?” Diego asked.

  She chuckled and shook her head hard to sling water. She blinked at him with a wide grin on her face. They stood in a winter rain in the middle of an open field and she never felt so dangerously carefree in her life. Diego’s eyes lowered to her lips. He moistened his own. He was going to kiss her. Oh how she ached for that first kiss. He wiped her hair from her brow and lifted her chin. She closed her eyes tilting her head back further. The rain cleansed her of any doubt. At that moment she felt free in his strong embrace. She didn’t care that nearly everyone stared at the crazy couple who stood in the rain. All she wanted was his kiss. His lips brushed her chin, then her mouth and she parted them a fraction with the rain-washing over her invitation for a kiss. His index finger then traveled the line of her jaw stopping at the center of her chin. His face so close she could see the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, the slight bump that marred the perfect line of his nose. The heady scent of him and the storm filled her nostrils—a mix of soil, natures wind, soap, aftershave, and industrial strength pheromones.

  He was going to kiss her. Her first kiss from a man who wasn’t Richard the louse.

  She nearly melted into the puddle at her feet when his head lowered. Then it went wrong. With her heart lodged in her throat the rain ceased, as if on command by Diego. She blinked out of the daze of her desire up at him and he smiled at her. The sun moved out and shined brighter than any star in the heavens warming her cheeks. Her stomach dropped. He pressed the kiss to her brow. “All good things must come to an end.”

  “Huh?”

  Diego released her. She had to hold on to his sleeve to keep from weaving on her feet. A chorus of applause rose from the tents and pavilions. Embarrassed, Marcella looked around at the hundreds staring and cheering for them. “Sweet merciful God.”

  “They love you.” He kissed her cheek. He took her hand and walked her back toward the car. She was freezing. The warm winter day still had enough of a chill to make her regret her actions. But she smiled despite herself and walked with him, blushing. At the car he pealed off her wet coat and suit jacket. He removed his and handed it to the driver before helping her inside.

  “My stuffed animals! I want them.” She reminded him. Diego rolled down the window and instructed the driver to fetch them. Marcella languished in a sea of contentment. However, a tinge of disappointment burned in her gut. She had caused the cautious behavior that denied her their first kiss. The last time he had been forward she gave him the smack down. Damn she wanted to kiss him.

  “Where do you live?” He cast her a side look.

  She wiped her hand down her face. The warm air from the vents blew over her, drying her feverish skin. “Back near… near the boardwalk, off of Elmore and 23rd.”

  “I want to see where you live,” he said with a secretive smile. Marcella sucked in a deep breath. Her head was still spinning; her heart suffered pangs of disappointment. But her place was empty, except for Ginger. She paused to consider what extending an invitation would imply. Did she really want to invite this man over? She had been so cautious with every suitor after Richard.

  “Marcella?”

  She smiled. Despite her inner voice’s warning she threw caution to the wind. “Yes, I mean sure, let’s go.”

  Chapter Six

  Diego dropped a hand to the elevator wall above her head and leaned forward. She was quite uncomfortable in her wet clothes. The silk blouse she wore was pasted to the black lace bra beneath revealing her full breasts. His hand lightly brushed then cupped her breast and she sucked in a tight breath. His advance felt so natural her response inevitably was the same. Diego’s touch, though firm, became gentle when he applied pressure and massaged her breast in the cradle of his palm. Marcella’s heart hammered a tribal beat of excitement within her chest. Would he finally kiss her? Please yes God, she prayed he would.

  The elevator lifted and his face drew nearer. Marcella lifted her chin. She parted her mouth for his. The doors opened. “Before I leave today, I’m making it my business to find out what is under this skirt. Do you understand?” he asked, preventing all escape.

  And there it was. He made it clear. Very clear. Crystal clear.

  “Do you understand? ¿Entiendes?”

  She nodded, her throat closed, his fingers stroked the skin just under the hem of her skirt but went no further. The doors closed. The elevator started to descend. “I need you to say it nena. Say it aloud.”

  “Yes, I understand, but um we missed my floor.” As if on cue the elevator stopped and the doors opened to a young woman who peered at them curiously. She didn’t dare join them. The doors closed. Diego nuzzled his lips against her ear. “No one gets in here,” he stroked her thigh, her skirt inching up higher.

  “Um…Diego?”

  Marcella winced at the sharp sting to her lobe as he bit down. A riot of chills spread through her ear and neck, and down to her racing heart. With a trembling hand she reached over and pressed the button to her floor and the elevator began to climb again.

  Marcella sighed with relief when he withdrew and the doors opened again, however, her legs felt like her limbs had turned to jelly. She walked out the best she could with Diego shadowing her. She looked back at him twice to make sure he was following. His gaze remained focused on her and only her. She willed her hands to keep steady when she withdrew the key. Part of her knew
if she kept their courtship at a slower pace she could retain some if not all control.

  Marcella pushed the door open and went inside feeling a bit more relaxed. After all, they were in her territory. Ginger strolled out with her tail moving lazily. Her cat stopped and looked up at her guest curiously, then turned and walked away.

  “That’s Ginger, she’ll warm up to you.”

  Diego slipped his hands in his pockets strolling through her place as if he belonged. She shed her coat while tracking him with her eyes. “I stay here alone, though my best friend Susan usually stops in and out. Her mother’s sick so um… Well she’s not here tonight. I mean we’re alone.”

  Diego kept scanning her things with his roving his gaze.

  “Do you want a drink? Are you hungry? I could fix us something quickly.”

  Diego shook his head no, running his finger over her books on the shelf. “I’m a hoarder of books. I can’t part with one that I love. Those books are my top favorites. I read them over and over. Do you read? Probably not. Men don’t seem to. Not like we do I mean. Hell, maybe they do, it’s just the men I’ve dated don’t. Not that we’re dating. I’m just sharing, um, saying… yeah, you know what I mean.” Marcella stopped herself. She was beginning to sound nutty with her constant rambling.

  Diego ignored her, scanning one item in her place then the next. She felt totally exposed. Marcella rolled her eyes and looked away. Her mood had shifted to the point of annoyance. When she glanced up again, he was done observing her things and focused solely on her.

  “Aren’t you going to say something?”

  The sofa chair behind him had a few magazines in it. He removed them and tossed them to the floor before sitting. They both had damp wrinkled clothes, but he sat down his vision narrowing on her hips. Again she caught the distinct gleam of his gold pocket watch. “I’d like to see your panties.”

  Marcella wasn’t sure she heard him right.

  Diego dropped his head back and relaxed in the chair. “Start with the skirt, do it slow.”

  How should she respond to his request? Obedience is what he wanted, and part of her felt compelled to submit. Though, the dark gleam in his sexy stare warned that once she began it would be hard to turn back. Marcella bit down on her bottom lip. She ran her hand back through her hair nervously. It was damp and tangling from the moisture outside. She wondered how she looked with only the lamplight to reveal her features. She wondered several things. For instance, why him, why her, why now?

  “Now Marcella.” He commanded.

  It would have been more appetizing if he undressed her. She actually yearned for his touch. So far he hadn’t even kissed her. Her hands felt sweaty and warm as they sometimes did when she was nervous or anxious. She closed and opened them in a feeble attempt to relax the unrelenting beat of her racing heart. Diego’s foot began to sway casually; the other remained firmly planted to the floor. It was the way he watched her. His unhurried but authoritative manner had left her yearning. Strange that the word ‘submit’ kept popping in her head each time she locked eyes with him. Strange that she found the mere idea repulsive on merit, but tempting now.

  Diego’s brows lowered. Did he sense her reluctance? Would he walk out in a huff if she refused to be ordered around by him? The mere thought of the night ending before it began forced her to act. She did as requested. With a slow hand she pushed in the button to the top of her skirt, arms behind her back, and ran the zipper south. The tightness of the band of material loosened about her waist. The skirt began to peel from her hips as she pushed it down. She stepped out of it, thankful her silk blouse extended to shield her sex, although her hips pushed out from the sides.

  “The bra bonita, I’d like to see it next.”

  Diego moistened his lips and tried hard to restrain himself. He observed with quiet stillness as she untied the scarf from her neck and tossed it. Next came her hands to the top button of her blouse, little pearl drop buttons that pushed through the softest fabric he’d ever touched. And the lace bra beneath was unveiled against her brown skin. Watching her had become his favorite sport. From the moment he saw her at El Jay’s, rushing from the restaurant, he watched her movements. Their subsequent collision had been no accident, though one look into her soft brown eyes had robbed him of his nerve. Then he caught a glimpse of her again at the restaurant, and he decided watching her would be the first part. The next? Exploring every desire, every fiery burn he carried for a woman with her unique beauty and strength. He’d consume her.

  Marcella’s eyes flashed her smile, her lips parted slightly and he inhaled her through the gulf that separated them. Such femininity should be dealt with carefully. A woman who appreciated the need for garters, along with the lacy intimate wrappings that a man hungered for, should be rewarded for her efforts. He was the man for the job.

  “Closer.” He whispered.

  Marcella did as she was told. Not her best sexy walk, she was too busy concentrating on not tripping since he made her so nervous. But she went to him willingly. She imagined there would be many things she did for him this day and night, willingly.

  Finally, he stood.

  His shadow fell over her sealing his presence into her space. He lifted her chin gently with his finger, causing her head to drop back. Would he kiss her now? At last? It should be the natural order of things. If a man desired a woman the way he evidently did her, he should make his move with gentle kisses, to make her pliable. It’s part of the mating dance. His tongue grazed hers, their breaths mingling; it became an exchange that opened doors to greater intimacy. The kind neither could turn away from.

  Yes, it was the first kiss that could enslave her, make her want to be his for as long as this was to last. So why did he prolong it? Maybe she should kiss him instead, she wondered.

  “Which one is your bedroom?” he asked.

  Marcella’s left arm went out at her side and she pointed to the partially opened door without breaking his stare.

  A dark secretive smile formed on his lips. “Show me.”

  Without question she turned and did as he asked. Diego caught her hand to slow her. She cast her gaze over her shoulder. Her hand slipped into his and she led the way. Unprepared for a visitor she grimaced at her unmade bed. Thankfully her room was darker so it didn’t highlight her untidiness. The windows all had the draperies drawn. Ginger lay on her bed, and lifted her head. The feline hopped down and slipped out. Marcella let go of his hand. “My bed’s usually made. The sheets are fresh though I changed the linen last night.” She gave a nervous chuckle.

  Diego closed the door.

  “I want you to know I’m not in the habit of doing things like this.”

  He stepped from the door toward her.

  “We’re consenting adults, my friend thinks I need some kind of affair, um, a date…to date again. So I’m um…I’m willing to date.”

  “You talk a lot when you are nervous Marcella. I’m going to enjoy you,” he said again.

  That was a relief because she felt like a rambling idiot. At least he was polite enough to not call her one. She closed her shirt over her nudity out of reflex.

  “Don’t,” he said.

  Marcella hadn’t realized what she had done. Even stranger, she obeyed. Her hands fell away. She blushed and dropped her eyes, she couldn’t think looking into his. He was before her now. His hands rested gently on her shoulders then he turned her away from him. She looked up with a jerky breath. The sight of the two of them reflected off the mirror above her dresser, it was surprisingly erotic. She was half naked and trembling with anticipation, nothing but her opened blouse and a wisp of her lacy underwear covering her dark nipples and the crest of her sex. He was tall, imposing, fully clothed and completely in control behind her.

  Strong hands peeled away her shirt. The material left her skin and a layer of her inhibitions dropped away. His hands then cupped her breasts. The muscles in her stomach clenched. His thumbs stroked the sensitive skin of her hard peaks, and she would swe
ar to anyone who asked, that at that point it was over. The attraction between them was beyond recovering, she would go the distance, physically and hopefully emotionally.

  Marcella swallowed.

  His fingers moved away, to the back of her bra, and it was unclamped. The cups loosened and fell away. She didn’t have large breasts, they were quite petite, but they were firm and perky and she was certain that men found them attractive.

  Their eyes met in the mirrored glass and she knew for certain, he found them attractive.

  “You’re exquisite.” He breathed.

  She made to turn, wanting to touch him but wasn’t allowed. “Look at yourself.” He held one breast and her neck so she could remain against him. It was hard to look her self in the eye when he fondled her nipple the way he did, but she managed. “I see you.”

  What did he mean? If he truly saw her then he knew how nervous, yet turned on she was. That wasn’t a bad thing. Soon his hand began to stroke her neck slowly. He gave what could only be made out as a chuckle in her ear, as he ran his finger over her lip. “Do you see me?” He then brushed his lips across her cheek.