ARTESIA SITS ABOUT halfway between the caverns and home. After turning off the highway and driving us away from the main drag, Boone parks the truck in front of a long, metal industrial building.
“Is this the part where the news channel reports the last place I was seen?” I joke as we walk to the front door. At least I assume it’s the front door because there’s a faded banner hanging next to it. The name Las Chicas is barely visible on the sun-bleached vinyl.
“You’ve got to learn to trust me.” He rests his hand on my lower back.
If only he knew how impossible that request is for me.
I should have “trust no one” tattooed on my forehead. A warning to others as well as a reminder to myself.
Inside, Boone greets the woman at the hostess stand in rapid Spanish. I only pick up a few words, but smile and nod when he points to me. Colorful paper flowers and pompoms decorate the tables and walls in contrast to the nondescript exterior. Star-shaped lanterns hanging from the metal ceiling create a soft, dappled light in the large room. Most of the tables are filled with families and couples, who also greet Boone in Spanish.
I doubt many tourists would make it past the door to this place, so I’m guessing they’re all locals.
In fact, I spot Tony sitting at a large round table in the back. I wave when he sees me, not thinking of the company I’m with. He nods and grins, then not subtly at all, gives me a big thumbs-up.
Work should be interesting next week.
Lupe, as she introduced herself to me in English, brings over a plate of warm sopapillas and a squeezy bear of honey. The triangles of quick fry bread are my new favorite thing since moving to New Mexico.
After saying thank you, I drizzle a piece with honey and take an enormous bite. Mumbling with my mouth full, I declare, “So much better than bats.”
A sticky dollop of honey slides off the end of the triangle, landing on my wrist.
Before I can reach for a napkin, Boone lifts my arm to his mouth. My eyelids peel back and my mouth hangs open when he gently sucks the honey from my skin with a soft, open mouth.
When he looks up at me, lips still pressed to my wrist, his eyes are dilated with intensity.
If lust has a look, Boone is mastering it right now.
“Do they have food to go?” I ask, my voice husky and my pulse racing beneath Boone’s mouth. He must feel the rapid beat of my blood. All his talk of loving bats and caves and . . .”Wait, you’re not a vampire are you?”
He lifts his head and stares. “Excuse me?”
“You love bats and took me to a cave on our first official date,” I blurt out. Evidently all filters and rational thought have left my brain.
“You’ve seen me eat food and be in full sunlight.” He doesn’t fight his laughter, letting his head fall back. “You’re not serious. Are you?”
“You’re impossibly handsome and you were just kissing my wrist and giving me a look like you wanted to eat me.” My defense sounds crazy even to my own ears.
“Lucy, what am I going to do with you?” He picks up a sopapilla and bites it with his average-sized canines.
“Take me back to your bat lair and ravish me?” I suggest the classic end of a vampire’s seduction.
“Once again, I’m failing at doing this dating thing in proper order. I took you to the bat lair after ravishing you in public, and in broad daylight, in case you forgot.” He stares at me like he could undress me solely with the power of his vision.
I’m sure I’m blushing from the memory and can’t meet his eyes. “I haven’t forgotten.”
Like I’ll ever not remember.
“Me neither,” he whispers so low I barely hear him. “This is a proper date, in case you missed the clues. We’re going to have dinner first.”
First.
My heart stalls for a beat before a thrill flutters through my body, settling between my thighs.
I am so doomed.
I’m thinking about my underwear as we drive back to Roswell.
Boone’s holding my hand and I’m trying to remember if I’m wearing cute panties.
Off in the distance a storm illuminates a thundercloud with lightning. Above us stars sparkle.
“I love how wide the sky is in New Mexico,” I say, distracting myself from trying to covertly check what’s going on in my pants.
“Isn’t the sky the same everywhere? Same atmosphere, same planet?” he asks, glancing over at me. The dashboard lights cast him in a soft glow, which highlights the sharp angles of his face and the strong line of his jaw. He looks otherworldly.
And I might be wearing regular, old Saturday underwear.
“You haven’t been to upstate New York. If there’s a thunderstorm, the whole sky is gray. Not like here where there’s room for stars and storms simultaneously. I love driving and seeing the line of rain off in the distance.”
“Do you miss home?” he asks
Such a loaded question. “I miss my family.”
The full truth, but not the whole story.
“But not where you grew up?”
“No. Too much snow and not enough excitement. My life felt like living in an old dream that belonged to someone else.”
Taking his eyes off the road, he studies me for a minute. “That’s an interesting way to describe your childhood.”
“How would you describe yours?” Defensive Arts 101: Ask the questions, don’t answer them.
“Normal enough.” He laughs. “I wasn’t super popular. Wasn’t an outcast. Was in band. Played baseball had no illusions of going pro. Smart enough to go to college.”
“Wow. You’re really boring,” I tease him because his description is almost as vague as mine. “You’re so Archie.”
“Is that good or bad?” he asks, completely missing my reference.
“Good guy. Almost too good.”
“Hmm.” He rubs his knuckles along his jaw. “Don’t most women want the bad boy?”
“We want the bad boy who’s good to us, which I think makes him the good guy in the end. I’m not really an expert.”
We’re passing the South Park cemetery and I get distracted by the lights glowing among the grave sites.
“Is it weird to love a graveyard?” I inquire, leaning forward to see around him.
He doesn’t hesitate answering me. “Yes. Very.”
“I love all the cheerful lights and the colorful, plastic flowers. Makes death feel less depressing. Too bad it’s closed for visitors at night.”
“You know this how?” he asks, eyes wide.
“I tried to go one evening at dusk. Got shooed away by some old guy locking the gates.”
“You’re a little obsessed with the dead, you know?” He twists to press a quick kiss on my cheek because I’m basically leaning over his lap at this point. Seatbelt be damned.
If anything, I’m obsessed with the undead or possibly dead, but I keep this to myself. I’ve shared enough weird for the day.
“How so?” I sit back in my proper seat.
“The whole vampire conversation earlier?”
“More like the undead, if that’s your argument.” I tip my head because it’s the truth.
“Touché.”
We arrive at my little apartment complex and I show him where to park in the back in my never used guest spot. Wanda might recognize his truck if she’s peering through her kitchen curtains, but I’m hoping she’s out or asleep.
“You want to come in?” I ask, realizing I assumed he would. Hence the underwear thoughts earlier.
“Are you inviting me to your lair?” He leans close enough I feel his breath against my lips.
Instead of answering him with words, I kiss him.
He unbuckles his seatbelt and shifts closer to me, sliding his arm between me and the seat to pull me against him. All the while, sweeping his tongue against mine and dominating my mouth with his. His large hand cups my cheek, angling my head to his liking.
The ghosts of my teenage hormones flair back to life and I try to curl around him, needing friction, more kissing, and less air between us. I attempt this while still strapped into my seat.
Breathless, frustrated, and trapped, I pause mid kiss. “Not to be too forward, but I have an apartment right over there that’s slightly larger than this truck.”
He clicks the button to release me from my bondage. “I can’t promise to behave outside of the confines of this cab.”
I have my door open and I’m outside before he decides to be a gentleman. “I want the thunderstorm Boone, not a version who gives me a peck on the cheek at my door.”
He follows me to my door and I’m so nervous I forget how to unlock it. I press my key fob at the handle and click.
“Here, let me.” He inserts the key in the lock and twists to open the door.
“Right. Tab A goes inside Slot B. Got it.” It’s been so long since I’ve had sex, I needed a basic reminder.
Boone looks like a giant inside of the small space. My cool antique love seat looks like a couch for little kids next to him. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back. Read a book. Or grab a drink. Glasses in the cupboard. Beverages in the fridge. There’s water in the faucet.”
I’m a terrible hostess.
I jog down the hall to the bathroom. With a sigh, I realize I’m wearing nice black underwear that even matches my bra, and won’t have to make a quick switcheroo in my room. In the mirror, I notice my face is flushed and my eyes are extra bright. I look like I’m high, but in a good, happy way. A quick refresh and fluff, and I’m as good as I’m going to get without a full shower or spa day.
As I feared, Boone is perched on the settee. He’s holding a book in his hand, which he returns to the shelf when I approach.
“Is it me, or is this thing small?” He stretches his arms along the back and can touch both ends.
“I think people were smaller when it was made.” I stand in front of him, not sure if I should squeeze next to him or sit on one of the kitchen chairs.
He makes the decision for me when he slides his hands around my thighs and pulls me forward. Guiding me to straddle him, he stares up at me. The lust I saw spark in his eyes at dinner is a brush fire now. He moves one hand to the back of my neck, bringing my mouth down to his.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs right before pressing his lips to mine.
My heart is a hummingbird, beating so quickly everything blurs. The combination of his words, hands, and mouth should require an adult warning. The man knows how to kiss. He’s not diving for lost treasure behind my tonsils or thrusting at me like an excited rabbit. His kisses are deep, long, and full of promise. I’m not sure I won’t combust before we get naked.
Boone takes his time exploring my mouth while his hands roam over my body. He’s a man with all the time in the world.
It’s sexy as hell.
He may be taking his time, but my body is impatient for what comes next. It remembers how his bare skin feels and wants more.
Last time we made out, he was ninety-eight percent naked. Tonight, I want to go for a perfect score.
“Lucy,” he whispers against my mouth, “I think a spring in your tiny couch is trying to violate me.”
His words don’t make sense to my sex clouded mind. I lean away and ask, “Violate you how?”
“I’m being poked in the ass by something. Did you grow an extra hand?”
I wiggle my fingers where they’re twisted in his messy hair. “Nope.”
He shifts and then grimaces. “We need to get up.”
In a smooth motion, he grips my ass and stands. I wrap my legs around his hips, then peer over his shoulder.
A small silver coil of a spring has penetrated the velvet. “You weren’t kidding.”
He spins around and glowers at the violator.
I so want to make a joke about little green aliens and their probe obsession, but I’ve made myself a promise to avoid all things aliens.
“Where’s your bedroom?” He walks toward the hall that leads to my room and the bathroom.
A few steps later he lowers me down to the bed. I pull him over me, craving his weight on top of me. My thighs open to make room for his hips, and when he settles against me, I moan. Loudly.
He chuckles as he drags his scruffy face along my jaw.
The scrape of his one-day beard inflames my skin, but it’s not the kind of friction I want.
I tip my hips up to meet him, slowly rocking against him. Now it’s his time to moan.
He catches my grin with his mouth, kissing me until I’m breathless.
My hands slip beneath his T-shirt, and skim over his warm skin. After the caverns, I returned his shirt and now I curse the extra layer of fabric. I give up exploring his muscles to undo the buttons. He sits back on his haunches, allowing me better access. As soon as the last button is loose, he shrugs off the chambray and then pulls the white tee over his head.
“Your turn,” he says, sneaking his own fingers beneath the hem of my shirt.
My bra is simple black satin, nothing fancy or sexy, yet Boone’s eyes widen as he stares down at me. Guess he likes what he sees. Bending lower, he skims his lips over the peak of my nipple through the thin fabric. The warmth and pressures makes me arch my back in a silent plea for more.
Shifting back, he frowns.
“What?” I whisper, nerves sinking like rocks in my stomach.
“It’s a beautiful bra, but I want you naked.” He arches an eyebrow while he traces a line down to the button of my jeans.
A moment of shyness makes me hesitate. I have a squishy belly and my hips are too wide. He’s perfectly proportioned and all muscles. What if he sees me fully naked and doesn’t find me sexy?
“Lucy?” Softly saying my name, he cups my cheek to get my attention. “Are you having second thoughts?”
“No. Are you?” Waiting for his answer, I hold my breath.
“No, I’ve been fantasizing about seeing you naked since the afternoon at the lakes. I love that bikini but it’s been torturing me for weeks. You’re so sexy.” His hand drops to my chest and he drags a finger over the arch of my bra, between my breasts, going lower until he traces a circle around my belly button.
Standing, he unbuttons his jeans and lets them drop to the floor. He’s wearing dark gray boxer briefs and there’s no way to ignore his erection tenting the soft fabric.
“In case you were having doubts about me finding you sexy, I think this is proof.”
I love his shy but confident smile.
Lifting my hips, I shimmy out of my jeans and underwear. He pulls them off my body before dropping his boxers. My bra is the last to disappear.
Like the rest of him, his cock is beautiful. I reach out to stroke the hard velvet of him. He groans and twitches beneath my touch.
“Condom?” I ask.
“Not yet.” He slowly crawls up my body and then drops kisses as he moves back down. A kiss to my belly button. A kiss to my left hipbone. When his mouth skims over the apex of my legs, I part them slightly in invitation. I feel him smile against my inner thigh before he places soft kisses over my center. His tongue presses against my clit and I arch my back.
Like his kisses earlier, he’s not in any rush. Kissing and licking me in a slow, intentional rhythm until I’m a twisting, begging mess.
With a soft nip to the soft crease near my thigh, he slides in a single finger, then pulls out, before adding a second. His other hand finds my breast and teases my nipple. The combination of his mouth and fingers pushes me closer to the edge. I want to yell out how much I love his manual dexterity but bite my knuckle instead.
My hips rise to match the rhythm of his fingers. So close to breaking apart, I buck and squeeze my legs around his head. He flattens his hand on my sternum, stilling me. When he licks my clit, I explode. This is what a new star forming must feel like. Stars sparkle their light behind my eyelids as pleasure ripples through my body in waves.
His fingers still inside me as he guides me back down to earth.
“You’re a dangerous man,” I whisper, pulling him up to my mouth.
He’s chuckling when I try to kiss him, but doesn’t ask for explanation. “I’ll be right back.”
I’m not even sure what I mean. Sure, I could become addicted to the things this man can do to my body. But he’s a bigger threat to my heart.
He returns with a condom and opens it.
“Let me,” I ask, taking it from him. Stroking his length, I slip the condom on.
I fall back to the pillows and he follows, settling his body between my hips. I love feeling the weight of him. He brushes the head against my slick opening, once, twice before thrusting an inch inside. It’s not enough. When he stills, I open my eyes.
“I’m already on the edge. Give me a second.” His lids are closed and he moans, slipping in another few inches.
He couldn’t have said anything sexier. Knowing I turn him on to the point of almost losing it within seconds gives me a heady rush. I don’t want this be over, so I still, waiting for him to regain control. I’m rewarded with a deep thrust and a sexy groan from him once he’s all the way inside.
“Fuck.” The word rushes out on an exhale.
Finding a rhythm, he begins to thrust deep and hard. I wrap my arms around him, holding on as our bodies rock together. Still sparking small flashes of pleasure from my first orgasm, my body quickly builds up to a second one.
“You’re close again?” he asks, slowing down, sliding almost all the way out.
“Don’t stop. Please,” I beg.
He thrusts in deep, and at the same time presses his thumb against my clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. “That. Do that again.”
With a muffled grunt, he does.
It’s all too much and I feel my body coil in anticipation of another release.
When I tighten around him and pulse, his rhythm falters. With two quick, deep thrusts he buries himself deeper. I open my eyes when he tips his head back with a deep moan. Watching him lost in pleasure is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever witnessed.
Falling forward, he rests his head on my shoulder—his heavy weight a welcome crush that grounds me back in reality. “You okay?” he asks, placing a kiss against my collarbone.
“Mmm,” I mumble. “When can we do it again?”
He laughs and gently rolls his hips. “I’m still inside of you, but I’m going to need a few minutes.”
I kiss him before he slips out of bed to deal with the condom. When he returns, I stand and kiss him again, slipping by him to use the bathroom.
When I return, he’s propped up on the pillows in my bed, looking comfortable.
“Come back here,” he commands, patting the spot next to him.
“How many condoms did you bring?” I crawl beside him.
His chest rumbles with his amusement. “Two.”
“I like your optimism.” I kiss his pec.
“I like your optimism better.” He strokes his hand down my back.
“Huh?” I ask, drowsy and confused.
“I saw the new box in the bathroom,” he whispers and pinches my butt. “We should pace ourselves.”
I don’t tell him I’ve had that box for months, never having a need to open it. Instead, I straddle him and begin kissing a path down his chest.
He’s more dangerous than I first thought.
I’m going to need a tinfoil hat for my heart to protect myself from Boone Santos.
Four.
That’s how many condoms we use.
I’m impressed with myself. Four is definitely a new record for me.
Twice last night, once at dawn, and one in the shower. Boone nearly cracked his head when he slipped on the wet floor getting the box.
If he wasn’t already standing by his truck kissing me good-bye, I’d have to come up with some excuse to kick him out. My body is a tender buttercup after four rounds of sex with Boone.
The man has stamina. He must be part cyborg.
And I’m out of sex shape.
He’s hard again as we make out in the parking area. My horny brain is suggesting I invite him back in for round five while my poor vagina is waving a white flag and calling for a time out.
I don’t listen to my head.
“I need to go before I throw you in the truck bed and have my way with you again.” His hand cups my breast underneath his shirt I’m wearing. Yes, I stole it again and I have no plans to give it back.
Twisting away from him, I peer into the back of his truck “I’m going to pass. Looks dirty and thorny.”
He stares into the bed. “Yeah, that’s a terrible idea. I forgot what a mess it is back there from driving on the dirt roads.”
“Is that why your truck’s always filthy?” I swear he has half a tumbleweed back there.
“Probably. I spend a lot of time on unpaved roads out in the desert. And honestly, I couldn’t care less if my rig’s clean on the outside as long as I can see out the windows.”
I wonder what his place looks like. If he’s a neat freak inside with a yard full of weeds. There’s so much I don’t know about him.
“When can we go on our second date?” he asks, kissing my cheek. “When’s your next day off?”
“Saturday, and you’re in luck because I have no plans.”
“You do now.” He lets his mouth linger over mine, not really kissing me until I press my mouth against his.
I hum into the kiss, but press my hands against his chest. “Be gone with you.”
“See you in the morning for breakfast.” He slowly releases me.
In my post sex haze, it takes me a minute to realize he means at the diner.