Faith in You (6 page)

She raised her head and the brightness of her smile drove away the dark of the night. “I want you. All of you, body and soul, Paul.”

“You have me.”

Chapter 8

Paul rose with her, water sluicing off their bodies, leaving a trail behind them as he walked to the house. She held onto his shoulders, continuing to smile at him as he strode through the French doors and into the living room. For a second she started to slip and he bounced her higher against his chest and settled her more securely in his arms.

She tightened her hold and leveraged herself so she could whisper in his ear, “I could get used to this.”

He bent his head and kissed her cheek. “So could I.”

In a few short paces he was moving up the stairs, nearly running along the steps with her until he was at the door of his bedroom. He hesitated then, glancing at her. There was no hesitation in her gaze, only desire and love.

He walked her to the bed and stopped, giving her time to reconsider. His bed was a gorgeous mahogany sleigh bed, covered in a rich, olive-colored silk brocade bedspread, and tossed with a half-dozen or more pillows in matching colors and fabric. She wriggled in his arms. “We can’t. We’ll soak it.”

Paul smiled, turned, and fell onto the bed much the same way she had pulled him into the pool earlier. “So?” He bent his head, nuzzled the side of her neck, earning an encouraging moan from her.

Carmen loved the feel of his mouth on her and the length of his body as she rested against him. He was so big, so hard. She sat up and straddled his waist. He looked at her quizzically and would have spoken, but she laid her hand on his mouth. “I want to touch you. All over.”

He nodded, raised his arms, and crossed them behind his head. She sucked in a breath, unprepared for all his blatant masculinity. The muscles of his biceps and triceps were bunched. His pectorals were firm, developed. They created a small valley in the middle of his chest. She laid her hands there and his heart beat a tattoo against the palms of her hands. She stroked her hands across his chest, through the fine line of blond hair, to his paps. They hardened beneath her fingers and she skimmed her nails across them, eliciting a groan, and a shift of his lower body up into hers.

“Relax,” she urged, bent, and tongued first one and then the other.

Beneath her his body tensed and he shifted his hips upward, but she gave him no quarter. She sat up again and ran her hands up the sensitive skin of his underarm. He wriggled then, reaching down to stop her hands. “Ticklish?”

Paul smiled at the devilish grin on her face. “A boy has to have some secrets, darlin’” he drawled and shifted his hands to her thighs where he stroked his hands up and down lazily as she continued her explorations.

She skimmed her hands to his shoulders and down his arms to his hands. Taking hold of them, she moved them to her waist, then up to her breasts. She held them against her, cupping his hands until he cradled the firm globes.

“Sometimes it’s fun to find out secrets,” she said.

Her hands continued to rest against his as he teased her nipples with his fingers. “Secrets like whether this is --”

“Nice,” she finished for him on a groan and dropped her head back, arching her body into his hands.

“Very nice.”

Paul’s hands shook as he treasured her and his body ached painfully. Worse, he wanted more. More of her secrets. More of her body bared to him, given freely to him. He encircled her waist with her hands, rolling with her until she was trapped beneath him and his arousal was pressing into the soft rounded flesh of her belly.

He slipped to her side and bent his elbow until he could rest his head on his hand. He looked down at her for a second, then reached up, stroked one breast.

Carmen watched him intently studying her and her blood raced through her veins, flushing her body with warmth. Dampening the intimate spot between her legs. She moved her legs, trying to find some position that would ease the tension building there.

Paul smiled above her and moved his free hand until it stopped just below her navel. He spread his fingers and with the size of his hand, he nearly covered her entire midsection. “Will you tell me what other secrets you have? What other things that you like,” he said and moved his hand lower.

Her breath barely managed to come out of her chest, but somehow she muttered a hoarse, “This,” and with her hand, moved his down, between her legs to the place that ached so. That wanted the touch of his hands … of his lips.

Carmen trembled as he answered part of her wish then, rubbing his thumb across the nub hidden in her brown-black curls, pressing against her gently while at the same time he bent his head, took her nipple in his mouth, and suckled.

She held him against her, shaking as the tug of his mouth on her breast created an insistent pull between her legs. Restlessly she arched her hips, and he answered by slipping his finger inside, moving in her until the pull intensified, spread throughout her body, leaving her gasping and shaking.

“Paul,” she groaned and gripped his shoulders to find some stability as everything around her seemed to be dissolving.

Paul fought the urge to bury himself in her moist quaking depths but knew he was on the edge of his own control as a drop of moisture escaped him. “Carmen,
mi amor
,” he said huskily, pressing his arousal against the side of her hip.

Her eyes snapped open and she met his gaze and he knew she wanted the same thing. “Are you protected?”

“I haven’t slept around and I’m on the Pill,” she replied shakily and he slipped between her legs, but paused.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, his heart somewhere in his throat as he waited for her answer.

She smiled tenderly, reached up, and ran her hand along the nape of his neck. “I’ve never been more sure.”

He slowly entered her and her body welcomed him, but not just physically. As her wet and heat urged him on, her soft heart-felt moan entered into his soul, wrapped itself around him, and he knew he’d never be free of her.

He moved, made the union of their bodies complete, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, opening her eyes. He saw her love then, her acceptance, and it was nearly his undoing.

Carmen cradled his jaw and lifted herself until she reached his lips. She kissed him, murmuring, “I love you.”

He groaned, drove into her again and again as he melded his body with hers until they were both shaking, their bodies on the edge, barely holding on.

“You’re mine,” he said against her ear, so softly she wasn’t certain she had heard him. Her climax stole over her, leaving her body trembling and her insides thrumming with the force of her release.

She gasped, drew a shaky breath as he groaned and arched his back as he came inside her, his heat joining hers deep within. He repeated it then, more urgently. “You’re mine, Carmen. Body and soul and I won’t ever let you go.”

Carmen held him tight, cradling his head against her breasts as his breathing slowed. She kissed his forehead and knew he still didn’t understand. He might not want to let her go, but then again, she didn’t want to go. She was his, but he was hers just as much. She just hoped that in time he would come to see that.

Chapter 9

Paul listened to the slow, steady beat of her heart, his head pillowed against her breasts. He felt at peace, content. He opened his eyes and enjoyed the view. Her breast was rounded, firm. Not too big, but not too small. Just right, he thought, just like the rest of her. Her nipple was still tight, slightly reddened, and he flushed, knowing it was from his lovemaking.

Lovemaking, he repeated to himself. What a glorious word. He’d had sex before, although not indiscriminately. But this, the lovemaking, had eclipsed anything he had experienced before. Left him sated, both physically and spiritually. And despite that feeling of repleteness, there was still a hunger inside him to experience more of her. To have her close to him all the time.

He raised his hand, cupped her breast and lazily stroked his thumb across her nipple, needing to touch her.

“Can you stay?” he asked softly.

She stroked his hair and traced the shell of his ear with a finger. “I wish I could,” she said with a sigh.

He nodded, understanding. Her parents would be expecting her at home. Slowly, regretfully, he raised his head and shifted so he was level with her. “Can you stay a little longer?”

Carmen smiled, stroking his chest. “I think we have some more time before my parents call out the Army to find me.”

Paul chuckled, but didn’t blame her parents. If he had a treasure such as this at home, he would want to safeguard it too. Bringing his lips to hers, he moved them against her mouth, wanting to learn everything about it. The bowed curve of her upper lip. The full, tempting lower lip. The sweet minty breath that exhaled a promise of love against his lips.

“Paul,” Carmen sighed, meeting his exploration of her mouth with her own, finding a strange intimacy in the meeting of their lips. An intimacy as intense as that of his loving her, she realized. He was making love to her with his lips, his mouth, his tongue without touching any other part of her.

Her breath mingled with his, grew choppy, unsteady as he teased her mouth, nipping at her full lower lip with his teeth. Soothing them after with a light swipe of his tongue.

Her insides warmed, clenched, empty of him until his tongue filled her mouth, mimicking their earlier lovemaking and she met him, dancing her tongue across his, grabbing the back of his head to hold him close, and yet still needing more of him.

The emptiness between her thighs was unbearable and wanted the hot fullness of his big body buried there. She pleaded with him, “
Por favor, mi amor
.”

He groaned and entered her, and she came instantly, her breath harsh against his as her climax ripped through her. His hoarse shout was against her lips a second later as he joined her to complete their union.

#

Carmen hesitated at the door of her home, biting her lower lip. She glanced uneasily at Paul as he waited in his car. He wouldn’t leave until she was safely inside. He was that kind of gentleman. But she didn’t know if she would be safer inside or outside.

It wasn’t late, barely ten o’clock. But if her parents were up, correct that, if her mother was up, she wouldn’t be able to get away into her bedroom without some conversation. She wasn’t sure if she could endure even the simplest query. Not while her body still thrummed with the aftermath of their lovemaking. Not when she felt a glow of love she was certain everyone could see.

Taking a fortifying breath and another longing glance at Paul, she waved and stepped inside, and locked the door behind her. Her mother was sitting on the couch, skimming through the latest copy of one of the tabloids.

“Carmen?” her mother called out and looked up over the rim of the half-lenses on her reading glasses.

Carmen smoothed her shorts, pasted a smile on her face, and walked in. “Hi, mom.” She dropped a quick kiss on her mother’s cheek and attempted to continue on to her bedroom, but her mother clearly had other ideas.

“Did you have a nice day?” she asked, patting the space beside her on the couch.

Carmen relented, dropped her book bag by the side of the couch, and sat next to her mother. “I did. I got a lot of studying done and --”

“I may be old, but I think I can see what kind of studying you did,” her mother jumped in, but there was little censure in her voice. “Why him?”

Carmen avoided her mother’s gaze and toyed with the hem of her shorts. “Mom. I don’t know what you mean.”

“Look at me, Carmen.” The order was pleasantly stated, but a command none-the-less. Carmen raised her face, turned and met her mother’s gaze. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Lord, this is worse than I thought. You love this man, don’t you?”

Carmen rubbed her face, wondering what could be there that made it so obvious and finally answered. “I love him. I’ve never felt this way before.”

Her mother tsked, shaking her head. “He’s not one of us.”

“Julio Rivera was ‘one of us’ but you didn’t approve of him either,” she stressed.

“He wasn’t good enough for you,” her mother replied hotly, waggling a finger in Carmen’s face. “This man isn’t either.”

With an exasperated sigh, Carmen replied, “The way Connie wasn’t good enough for Victor? Her mother didn’t like us even though she was ‘one of us’.”

Her mother huffed and grasped for a reply, her small hands moving through the air as if she could pull the words from there. Finally she said, “If he respected you he wouldn’t have ….” Again she stopped, her hands growing even more animated.

Carmen helped her out. “Even Saint Connie did it before --”

An angry slash of her mother’s hand through the air silenced Carmen from going further. “If this man respected you, intended to do right by you, he wouldn’t be afraid to face your father and me. He wouldn’t just drop you off and slink into the night.”

Carmen smiled then. “He’ll be here tomorrow to go to church with us and have dinner. Is that enough?” She rose and left her mother sitting on the sofa, knowing there was nothing she could say against Paul any longer.

#

Paul sat on the hard pew and listened to the calming drone of the priest as he celebrated Mass. Raised as an Episcopalian, the Catholic liturgy was different and yet similar in some ways. Still, it had been so long since he had stepped into a church, he doubted he could pinpoint the differences.

Carmen sat beside him, softly muttering the responses to the liturgy, singing slightly off-key to the hymns. She was peaceful here, different in a way he had not seen before. As the Mass progressed, she helped him through all the times to rise, sit and kneel. When the priest had indicated that they should all give each other a sign of peace, she had embraced and kissed both her parents, then turned to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek. But she grabbed his hand afterwards and continued to hold it through the remainder of the service.

When they rose to exit, she gave him a shy smile and introduced him to her priest as they walked out the door and followed her parents down the steps and up the block to
Calle Ocho
. Their house was just a few blocks away and as they strolled, she continued to hold his hand, leaning close to him.

In less than twenty minutes they were back at her parents’ home and Carmen’s mother excused herself to prepare a quick snack for them.

“Dinner’s still a couple of hours away,” Carmen explained and likewise excused herself to go help her mom.

He sat there, feeling decidedly uncomfortable until her father softly said, “Connie says you’re a nice man.”

Paul squirmed, thinking that if Connie knew what he had done yesterday, that endorsement might not be the same. “It’s a pleasure to work with Connie. She’s a very bright lady.”

Her father’s eyes narrowed and he settled himself deeper into the chair. “Carmen’s a
lady
as well,” he said, the emphasis not lost on Paul.

He nodded again, grasping his hands together tightly. “Yes, sir. She is. You should be very proud of the daughters you have raised.”

The older man shifted in his seat and leaned forward. “Take care of my Carmen. Do you understand?”

For a moment, Paul didn’t know what to say. There was no doubt he would take care of her. He treasured her, needed her, wanted her. He might have even been able to get out the L word, only it stuck in his throat still. Despite everything that had happened between them yesterday and all that he felt for her, there was still a part of him that couldn’t voice that to this man. It was still too private and new and he wanted to savor it deep inside himself. He wanted to share it with Carmen until she, too, was ready to shout it out to everyone. Until then, he would guard it within himself, nurture it until it was strong enough to survive on its own. “I care for her a great deal,” he answered honestly and the older man seemed to relax.

“Do you know how to play dominoes?” her father asked, motioning to a small card table in the corner of the room where a slew of black and white tiles were strewn haphazardly along the table top.

Paul studied her father’s demeanor, sensing he wouldn’t appreciate Paul’s concept of what one did with dominoes, namely setting them on their ends in a line so you could trigger a chain reaction. “No, sir. I don’t. But I’d like to learn,” he replied.

Her father rose, sat at the table, and grunted, “Sit.” Paul took a place across the table from him, and Carmen’s father shuffled the pieces with hands hardened and scarred from years of tough work.
A laborer’s hands, proud and sure
, Paul thought. Yet gentle, almost reverent as he doled out several dominoes to Paul, explained that he had to look at those pieces only and determine which ones he had and how he would lay them down.

Paul listened intently at first, but grew distracted through the long explanation of the possible combinations. He struggled to focus on her father’s voice and instead heard the sing-song Spanish of Carmen’s voice as she conversed with her mother in the kitchen. A loud snap dragged his attention to the game.

“Ready?”

Carmen’s father had set the opening domino in the center of the table and placed his dominoes in a little contraption. There was one on the table next to his elbow and he took the long slim bar and slipped his dominoes in the groove that held them upright. He glanced at his pieces, thinking the basic premise was simple. All one had to do was match the dots.

Of course, it would have been that simple if after a dozen or so moves later he hadn’t found himself without one to lay down. “Now what?” he asked.

The older man grunted again, pointing a finger at the pile of dominoes on the tabletop. “Pick until you find one.”

Paul chose one, then another, and then another. Six more tries until picked up a piece he could use. Dominoes overflowed his holder and he did the best he could to organize the excess.

Carmen came out of the kitchen at that moment, followed by her mother, their hands laden with plates of food. She laughed as she saw the pile of dominoes before Paul. “I see dad’s teaching you the hard way.”

“That’s not nice,” her mother admonished.

Her father grunted at both of them and Paul was glad that he was not the only recipient of those monosyllabic responses.

“Dad, we’re starting over and I’m helping Paul,” Carmen warned and the older man nodded, started to get ready for the next game.

Carmen handed Paul a small plate loaded with all kinds of appetizers, pulled up a chair, and sat next to him. She explained the snacks. Ham croquettes, creamy and hot.
Papa rellenas
. Small balls of mashed potatoes rolled around a spicy ground meat filling. Calamari, breaded in flour and fried in olive oil, with a final twist of lemon for zest.

Paul grabbed a calamari ring. “Isn’t this squid?” he asked, but enjoyed the taste of the seafood and lemon.

“Yes, it is. Now are you ready?” she asked, holding up a croquette for him to take.

Paul bit into the breaded cylinder and the ham-flavored creamy center burst in his mouth. “Mmm. This is good.”

He sat back and watched as Carmen picked her pieces, poaching them from all over the scattered dominoes on the table. She gazed at the pieces and leaned close to him to explain what she planned. He listened and was surprised she had actually mapped out moves for at least five or more turns away.

Across the table from them, her father and mother sat together, intently studying their pieces as well. Then Carmen’s father inclined forward, selected a domino from the reserve pile, and again laid it in the center of the table with a loud snap.

“I hate it when he does that,” she said and laughed in his ear, explaining their options. He listened to her instructions, enjoying the thinking of her quick mind and her physical proximity. A potent combination. She was nearly in his lap, but it was necessary so they could study the pieces.

“I think I could learn to like this game,” he whispered, dropping his hand on her thigh.

“Behave,” she warned and pinched a spot above the waistband of his pants.

Paul nodded, laid down the piece they had mutually decided on, and gave his attention to the game. But nothing could have prepared him for the intensity of the play. He listened to Carmen as she decided what to do and realized the strategy could be quite complicated. He also realized they were fanatical about the game.

In the long run, he and Carmen won, and her father shook his head, accepted his wife’s condolences and his daughter’s teasing gloating.

“I haven’t beaten her since she was a young girl,” he admitted, his father’s pride overshadowing any personal grievances.

Carmen rose, walked over, and dropped a kiss on his cheek. “I had a good teacher, Dad. You
were
the best,” she kidded and her father beamed with happiness, hugging her hard before releasing her to start preparing the dominoes for another game.

Paul was spared, however, when Connie and her husband walked in as the old man slammed the first piece down. Everyone protested that it was time for dinner and he shrugged, rose.

As he walked past Paul, he surprised him with a hearty slap on the back. “Paul, is it?”

“Yes, Mr. Gonzalez?”

“No, Roberto, please,” he replied and motioned for Paul to precede him into the dining room. “Remember this, Paul. You’ll never win, so don’t try or you’ll be disappointed.”