The Love of a Latino (22 page)

“Amor,
I am going to put you down now. I just need you to
calm down and talk to me. Will you do that?” It was a while before she shook
her head in agreement and Raphael sensed she too was trying to get her body
under control.

 “Bien…”
Cautiously he lowered her to the soft sand, his large
body still in defensive mode. As a precautionary measure, he released her and
stepped back.

When she finally faced him,
all traces of the desire that had just passed between them were gone. In its
place was the angry face that greeted him a few minutes ago. Choosing his words
carefully he spoke. “Now,
Amor,
do you wish to explain what your earlier
behavior was about? Is there any particular reason you attacked me?”

 She looked him dead in the eyes
and delivered the deadly blow without so much as flinching, “Two words Raphael
Cavos, Constance Martinez.” Raphael swore silently as her words sunk in. She
knew about Constance.
Dios mio,
this was the consequences Sean Patrick  had
mentioned.

****

He stood there with the
stupidest blank expression on his face; she wanted to punch him again. The
anger simmering inside her was a horribly uncomfortable new feeling. Dahlia would
have never thought she could be as violent as she had just been, but seeing him
again so suddenly, knowing that there was another woman in his life had done
something to her.

Noticing the slight
discoloration on his jaw where she had punched him, she groaned inwardly. She
should never have hit him. Violence was something she detested. Plus, her
knuckles were killing her now, but then what did you expect when you wanted to
play Evander Holyfield? She would apologize, but she would let him stew a
little first.

“Cat got your tongue,
Raphael?” She dropped the well thought of question.

“You know about Constance.
How did you find out?”

He seriously did
not
just
ask her that question. “Does it matter
how
I found out, Raphael?  What
you should be doing is saying what you have to say, so I can go home and you
can get back to your ‘little, live in lover.’”

Dahlia was so proud that she
could stand and face Raphael like this despite all the emotions that were
surging inside. First and foremost was that green eyed monster called jealousy.
Knowing that her husband had a lover, someone he touched the way he once touched
her was torture beyond hell—then came the hurt, the pain of knowing that he
could move on so easily even after vowing his love for her. And of course, there
was the anger. She was blatantly angry that he would flaunt his affair so
openly without a care in the world that she would find out and what it would to
do her. Oh yes, she was mad as hell.

When he finally spoke it was
in a very controlled voice. “Dahlia, in spite of that wonderful show you put on
a while back, I know you are not a woman who enjoys a scene. It is a thing I myself
abhor. So before the couple that is staring at us as if we’ve gone mad, starts
pulling out their cameras, can we please go to my room so we can talk about this?
I do not fancy being the next big thing on
YouTube.”

“Really? I would have thought
that would be something you enjoyed, seeing that you have been plastered all
over the internet with your
girlfriend.”

“Dahlia, Constance is not my
girlfriend!”

“Girlfriend, lover, mistress,
same thing.”

“Dahlia…” He gritted. “Can we
please
go upstairs so we can have a proper conversation about this?”

“I am not going anywhere with
you, Raphael Cavos.”

“Woman, I swear to God that
if you do not shut that beautiful mouth of yours and start walking to the
hotel, I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you there if I have to.”

“You would not
dare.”
She cried in disbelief.

“Try me!” He challenged.

She did challenge him,
silently that is. She glared at him for a very long time until she finally
stomped her foot in frustrated defeat and did one of the most childish things.
She stuck her tongue out at him before turning in the direction of the hotel
and marched off, Raphael’s chuckles following her all the way.

****

Raphael followed Dahlia to
the hotel, an amused smile playing on his face. As she flew past the confused
receptionist, Raphael waved to the girl behind the desk signaling that it was
alright. She strutted past the elevator and took the stairs instead. Not
bothering to argue, he silently followed. At the top of the first flight of
stairs it must have dawned on her that she didn’t have the faintest idea where
she was going, because she stopped, looked left then right before she turned to
glare at him. Stopping behind her he plastered another dumb look on his face,
hiding the serious urge to laugh at her expression.

“Are you going to tell me
which room, or are we going to stand here the whole day?”

“You know which room, Dahlia.”

He saw something flicker in
her eyes as understanding dawned. Yes, she certainly knew which room. Her eyes
clouded over quickly as she turned and continued her stomping all the way to
their destination, Raphael following at a much slower pace. She stopped outside
the room, arms crossed over her chest, tapping her sandaled foot impatiently
waiting for him to open the door. He took his time. Strolling to where she
stood, he retrieved the key from his pocket, unlocked the door, swinging it
wide open for her.

When she whooshed pass him he
couldn’t help but sneak a peek at her bottom once again.
Dios,
his woman
was sexy as hell. Shaking his head, he smiled again as he followed her inside,
closing the door, and locking the world out.

****

This was it, the final
showdown. The things that would be said in this room were going to be the deciding
factor in her marriage.  Raphael stood with his back to the door, his eyes
trained on her. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell phone, dialed
and then put it to his ear.

Dahlia felt awkward listening
to the one sided conversation mainly because her husband chose to carry it on
in Spanish. A few of the words she understood.
Sí-
yes, then her name,
diez
minutos-
ten minutes. That was about all. God, she really needed to learn Spanish.
At the end of his conversation, he tossed the phone on the nearby entrance
table.

“That was very rude of you.”

“What was rude of me,
Amor?”

“Speaking in Spanish when you
know I can’t understand what you are saying.”

Coming closer, a crooked
smile on his face he informed her, “Maybe,
Amor,
you were not meant to
understand.” Unexpectedly, he grabbed her wrist. She tried to yank it away but
he held it firm.

“Be still; let me see your
hand, Dahlia.” He commanded, bringing her hand up to examine her knuckles. He
swore vehemently when he saw the bruises. “Look at what you have done to your
hand.” He accused.

“I am fine, Raphael. It
barely hurts,” she lied.

“Do not
lie to me, Dahlia. My face is still throbbing from
where you hit me, so I know you must be in pain.” Still holding her hand, he
dragged her to the bar despite her protest.

“Will you let go of my hand?”

“Will you shut up and let me
take care of this?”

Biting down her next words
she watched as he wrapped some ice in a small towel and then proceeded to apply
it to her knuckles. She winced at the first touch but welcomed the soothing
sensation that followed.

When he did things like this
it was so easy to forget everything else. She had practically assaulted him and
even though he was in pain he was, instead, attending to her self-inflicted
wound. This ability to put her needs before his was something she loved about
him. It was so difficult to envision this loving passionate man as a man that
would so thoughtlessly hurt her by taking a lover.
What was wrong with her?
She had almost forgotten the reason his jaw and her knuckles were bruised.
Constance Martinez.

With renewed vigor, she
yanked her hand away. Nothing had been resolved. He still hadn’t explained
about Constance or said why he was here. “We came up here to talk. So talk! I
would like to go home before it gets dark.”

“Patience, Dahlia. You will
have your answers soon enough.”

“You know what, Raphael? I do
not have time for your games. If you are going to continue to act like this I
am leaving.” Swirling around, she headed for the door. She had barely gotten it
open when Raphael’s long hand closed it from behind her. Turning to face him
she huffed, “Let me go.”

“No!”

Frustrated at the way he was
behaving she brought both palms up to his chest to push him away, but instead
he grabbed both of her wrists, pinning them against the door on either side of
her head.  Pressing his large body against her much smaller one, he trapped her
between him and the door. Determined to be set free, she started struggling but
when his hand tightened on her wrist and she felt his arousal against her
stomach she stopped. Looking up at him she noticed the familiar glint in his
dark eyes—passion!

In an attempt to break the
spell he was weaving around her with that look, she snapped, “Do you get
aroused this quickly with your girlfriend?”

“Do I sense the green eyed
monster, Dahlia? Is my sweet wife jealous?” He breathed against her neck, his
voice strained with passion.

Swallowing, Dahlia licked her
lips. “Do not put words in my mouth, Raphael.”

She felt him smile against
her neck before his lips went to her ear. “Believe me,
mi amor;
I can
think of a lot of
other
things I would like to put in that sexy mouth.”

Her knees buckled, he
chuckled. “Easy, sweet one.” He dragged his lips across her jaw and whispered
against her lips, “By the color of your cheeks, I know you are not quite ready
for that. So how about we start with this?”

“Raphael…” She moaned before
his lips opened to possess hers.

Dahlia saw stars. She had
completely forgotten the things this man could do with his mouth.  Resisting
him was useless. Those firm strong lips pressed against hers, teasing the
sanity out of her. At the insistence of his seeking tongue—she opened, allowing
him in. He caressed the recesses of her mouth, his tongue flickering in and
out, tasting her lips. His teeth gently nipped at the tender skin. Dahlia’s
hands slipped out of his grasp to bury themselves in his hair, as she drew his
head closer so she could have more of him.

His large hands came down to
span her waist as he pressed closer, his arousal hardening more. He moaned, she
whimpered. Spinning her around to face the door, Raphael’s lips feathered
against her neck. She gasped in pure pleasure when he found the familiar spot
where her jaw met her neck. Pushing back she gyrated against his hardening
length, forcing a growl from him. Palms flat against the door she kept up the
pace. Raphael’s hands moved away from her waist, one travelling up under her
top to cup her breast. The other finding its way to the snap off the pants she
was wearing. With a flick of his wrist, she felt the button give and the zip
lowered.

His mouth continued to punish
her skin, until she angled her head so he could once again claim her lips as
his hands slid into her panties to find what he was searching for. His other
hand teased her aching nipple. At his first touch, various colors swarmed
behind her closed lids. If he continued touching her this way, she would have
an orgasm right there. Unable to take anymore, she wrenched her lips from his
and spun around to look at him. His lids were heavy with the weight of passion,
his lips pulled tight as he fought to stay in control. She was doing this to
him. Claiming his lips again, she continued to kiss him, backing him against
the sofa until he collapsed on it. Straddling him, she positioned herself on
his arousal and began to work her waist again.

“Amor,”
Raphael groaned, grasping her waist once—moving to
match her rhythm.

Dahlia reveled in the
knowledge that she could reduce this proud man to
this.
He was her man,
her husband. Leaning back, she reached down and pulled the purple top over her
head, exposing her body to him. Dahlia smiled when his pupils dilated and his
breathing became labored. Yes! He may have started this but she was in control
now.

Lowering her head she placed
her lips against his neck. Her wet tongue darted out to skim his firm skin.
Beginning at the vein that was throbbing out of control in his neck she licked
all the way up to his ear. Raphael bucked beneath her gyrating hips when her
tongue delved into his ear, then retreated to tease, the lobe.

“Dios,
Dahlia. What are you trying to do to me?” Raphael
grounded out
.

To answer his question she
flicked her head so her hair fell to one side. Bringing her head down, she
touched her lips to his neckline. He brought his hand up to cup her breast, but
she pushed them away.