Dancing in a Hurricane (34 page)

Mark stared back, a vicious look on his face.

Sixto looked at Rafe. "Sorry, brother. You're welcome here any time." He tipped his head at Mark. "Your friends are too, as long as they're not talking shit."

Mark jumped up and knocked his beer glass over, shouting, "Ya dirty spic. Go back to Cuba and try to earn as much as you do here in my country."

Sixto was too shocked to be pissed. He'd known a few bigots in his life but not many were as hotheaded as this jerk.

The owner of the club got up from his stool at the end of the bar and walked over. "What's the problem?"

Rafe looked at his friend like he was looking at a stranger. "Sorry,
socio
, no problem here. We're just leaving." He stood and took Mark's arm. The man jerked out of his grip and stormed out of the building.

Sixto watched him go, making sure he didn't double back and take a swing at him. Damn good thing Bree hadn't gotten serious with him.

Rafe held out his hand to Sixto. "
Lo siento
, brother. You won't see me back here with him again."

Sixto shook his hand. "
Dale
,
socio
." The two lifeguards left and the owner sat at a barstool.

"Didn't that puny shit see what a big motherfucker you are?"

Sixto smiled. "He has a problem with us spics, Carlo. Why the hell does he live in Miami?"

They laughed and Sixto fixed his boss a Mimosa.

***

Bree lay on a shady chaise by the pool, reading. A movement in the house caught her eye. She looked up.

Sixto opened the patio door from the living room. He walked out, set a case of beer on the bar, and glanced over at her.

He looked so hesitant that she smiled despite her plan to make him suffer just a little more. She set down her book and stood, teetering slightly on her matchstick-heeled sandals. When his eyes traveled down her body, she pressed her hands against her thighs to keep herself from nervously adjusting her bikini. Or worse, covering her lady parts.

A soft breeze from behind blew her hair around her arm. Walking toward him, she narrowed her step, not used to the heels. "I got your flowers."

He nodded, swallowed, and stared at her legs, her feet. When his eyes met hers, the desire in his gaze made it hard for her to draw a breath.

"Am I forgiven?" he asked.

She stopped in front of him. "You are."

He reached for her and she stepped into his arms.

"Try again?" she asked as she put her hand on his chest, feeling the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

His hands glided up and down her arms, as if he didn't trust himself to touch anywhere else. "Bree."

She slid a hand up his arm and onto his neck. "That's a good start." Her heels lifted her to almost his height. She urged him closer, tipped her head, and kissed him.

The groan from his chest was all she needed to hear. She opened her mouth on his, slipped her tongue between his lips, and licked his tongue. The sensation launched a firestorm of desire in her belly.

He pulled her closer, his hands finding a safe spot on her back.

She moved her hips, feeling his hard shaft pressing against her hip. With every ounce of her love for him, she kissed him, leading, showing him how much she wanted him, too.

She slowed the kiss, ended it with butterfly brushes of her lips on his. "Sixto?"

He breathed heavily, his eyes still closed. Slowly they opened and revealed the sweet, lovely chocolate brown color she thought of as his emotions shining through. Her heart skipped.

"Yes, Bree?"

"Thank you. For the flowers and the card. I don't know how you did all that on a Sunday morning, but I am impressed."

He smiled and ran his hand through her hair. "God, you can't imagine how tense I've been. I thought I blew it."

She kissed his chin on the pale spot where a scar showed through his day's growth of beard. "It was a mistake." She kissed his jaw, just below his ear. "We're going to make plenty of mistakes." She whispered in his ear, "I'll always forgive you."

He growled and kissed her neck, squeezing her tightly against him. "You're perfect, Bree. What did I do to deserve you?"

She closed her eyes, tipped her head to encourage him, and let the heat of his passion flow into her, through her. Weak with desire, she had to hold herself up, her hands on his shoulders.

He kissed a trail from her neck, up along her jaw to her lips. He kissed her, possessively, thoroughly sexual, intimate, as his tongue learned every sensitive spot in her mouth.

For a while, she traveled out of her body, the extreme pleasure swirling her brain until it felt like her head filled with clouds. He gentled the kiss, cooling her down, sipping masterfully on her lips, tickling, nibbling.

"Wow," she said, her eyes still closed. "You're really good at that."

He chuckled, kissed her once more, and put his forehead on hers. "It's never been this good for me, Bree."

"Mmmm." She looked into his eyes. "It's the added dimension of the unknown."

He rumpled his forehead. "I think I know what you're saying." He stepped back, ran his hands down her arms to where her hands rested on him. Taking her hands, he said, "We should talk."

She nodded and turned, but her gaze caught on the case sitting on the bar. "Sixto. You bought non-alcoholic beer?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I want to cut back." He looked at her. "Rico mentioned my drinking, too."

She grimaced. "I didn't realize you were having a problem."

He stared at her. "Just since you came."

She the shock numbed her. "Me?"

Taking her hand, he led her to the shady section of the patio and pulled a chaise next to the one she'd been sitting in. They sat facing each other, her knees captured between his. He held out his hand, she placed hers in it.

He took a breath and slowly let it out. "I've been fighting the attraction." Staring at her hand, he ran his fingers over her knuckles.

She waited. He wasn't the type of man she would rush. It took him this long to admit he had feelings for her and she wanted to hear everything that rolled around in that genius mind of his.

He looked into her eyes. "Yesterday, I said it was more than physical."

She nodded, savoring this perfect moment.

"I don't know how much more, or where to go from here. But Bree…" His grip tightened. "I don't want you to see anyone else."

Her heart thumped against her chest and her throat choked with emotion. This was more than she expected. "I won't Sixto. Just you."

He nodded, looking far too serious. "I'd like us to date for a while."

She didn't like how he phrased that. "Okay. What does 'for a while' mean?"

He shrugged. "You have your rules about intimacy and monogamy."

"I do. They still apply."

His lips thinned. "I want you to think about those rules and what we talked about a few weeks ago. How intimacy can expand the scope of strong emotions."

What was he getting at? "When you say it like that, it sounds clinical."

He let go of her hand and stared at the sky. "Yeah, I'm reverting to what I know from text books because…" Emotions ran across his face: fear, uncertainty, and resignation. He lowered his head and looked at her. "This is a lot deeper than I've ever been."

She could see he had difficulty admitting it. "Thank you for telling me." She touched her hand to her chest. "I have feelings for you as well."

His mouth quirked in a half smile. "I can tell. You have one of those faces."

She laughed. "No I don't."

"You do, but that's one of the things I like about you. You don't hold things back." He brushed his fingers across her knee and looked into her eyes. "Like right now. You want our relationship to be intimate, but you know it's too soon."

"You're right about it being too soon. But I don't believe in sex before a real commitment. Like an engagement."

He sighed. "That's what I was getting at. A relationship can only go so far on emotions. Men and women are meant to be physical with each other and that's what takes the emotion to a higher level."

She could see his point. If she and Kyle had been intimate for a longer time, would their relationship have survived her sister's prank? Would they have been engaged at so young of an age? In hindsight, had they rushed to get engaged so they could have sex? They were both lonely and it seemed a good idea at the time.

She sighed and moved closer to him, putting her hands on his knees. "I promise to think about it. But please…" She furrowed her brow. "Please don't push me."

"
Cariña
." He ran his hands up her arms. "I won't." Sliding his hands down to her waist, he stood, pulling her up with him. He laughed as his erection bumped her. "No matter how many cold showers I have to take."

She rolled her eyes. "And don't try to guilt me into it either."

He let her go, held up his hands in surrender. "I promise to behave myself."

She grabbed his hands and wrapped them around behind her. "Not all the time." Tilting her lips up to his, she kissed him gently and he returned the kiss passionately, his breath mingling with hers, his groan louder than her sigh.

"Bree."

"Yes, dear?"

He smiled. "That bathing suit. ¡
Es tremendo
! I need a cold shower. Now."

She bit her bottom lip. "Put on your trunks. I'll open a couple of N-A beers. Let's get in the pool." She whispered, "I need a cold dousing, too."

***

Marisa sat on the edge of her parents' peach-colored bathtub watching the plus sign appear on the drugstore pregnancy test. "Damn it!" She hurled the stick against the door. She propped her elbows on her knees and dropped her head in her hands. The worst part was that the baby wasn't Rico's.

When she told Victor she was leaving him, he was inconsolable. He begged her to go to counseling with him, but she knew he wouldn't follow through—he'd promised before. She gave Disney a month's notice and every day of that month, he pleaded with her to stay. He romanced her, brought her flowers, chocolates, gifts and they made love every morning and every evening—

"Oh, God!" Her head shot up so fast she almost fell backward into the tub. He used condoms, hadn't he? Yes, she remembered him sliding one on every time. She offered to use her diaphragm, but he insisted. He wanted to take responsibility for their birth control so she didn't have to worry… Would he have tampered with the condoms? Was this just another way of his trying to control her?

A jagged slice of panic shook her, the same feeling she got when he struck her. Her stomach threatened to heave. What now? Her family wouldn't disown her, but it would be uncomfortable. No, if Victor found out,
that
would be uncomfortable.

She put the test stick back into its box, dropped everything into the drug store bag, and hid it under her shirt. Sneaking into her room, she shut the door and put the bag in her purse—she'd dispose of it later. Right now, she had to talk to someone. The one person she trusted. Her baby brother.

Fifteen minutes later, she pulled up to his house. She tossed the bag with the test in his trashcan, hid it under a bag of garbage. The bag she brought into the house with her held a dozen of Sixto's favorite
pastelitos
.

Walking into Sixto's home, she smelled something delicious. Her brother was cooking. She slid her sandals off and went to the kitchen. He had his back to her, stirring something on the stove. She snuck up to him and grabbed him around the waist, needing a hug.

"
Cariña
, what are you doing home so early?" He turned and his eyes opened wide. "Crap, Marisa, I thought you were—"

"Bree." She punched him in the arm. "What are you doing calling her 'dear'?" She smiled. Her brother finally came to his senses about Bree.

He shrugged and went back to his cooking. "We're dating."

It surprised her that he admitted it. "Dating?"

"Yeah." He looked at her, one eyebrow up. "You know, boyfriend/girlfriend."

"
¡Callarse!
" She picked a slice of pepper from the pan. "When did this happen?"

"After the party."

"I'm happy for you two. How's it going so far?"

"Hard." He poured whisked eggs into a pan coated with butter. They sizzled and he stirred them quickly.

She laughed. "Are you talking about the relationship or your unit?"

"Both." He sounded frustrated.

"She's very traditional, you know. What did you expect?"

He slid eggs onto two plates, covered them with sautéed vegetables and cheese, and put slices of buttered sweetbread next to it. "I expect to have a lot of sexual frustration for the next few months." He nodded toward the counter. "Sit."

She did and he slid a plate in front of her, gave her a fork and napkin. She asked, "A few months? You think you'll be married by then."

He snorted. "Fuck no!" He walked across the kitchen.