I wake up with a stir as I feel something shift against me. Not something.

Someone. Esteban.

My brain is suddenly flooded with memories of the sweet and sexy extended lovemaking session from last night, and I shiver thinking about the cool air hitting the skin on my back last night as I rode him…during our third session. Blood rushes to my cheeks, but a satisfied smile stretches across my face, even though I can’t open my eyes yet. I don’t want to.

The sun is peeking through the curtains and it hurts my eyes. I really need to invest in some blackout panels for the windows.

Esteban’s arms come around me and I cuddle against him.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he says kissing the top of my head, and my eyes fly open. The words are so familiar and new at once.

“What did you say?” I mumble, my voice getting caught in my throat. My nose prickles and tears fill my eyes. Oh, why on earth am I getting emotional so easily?

“Good morning, sweetheart?” he asks. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No.” My voice comes out raspy, and I clear my throat. “You’re saying all the right things,” I say softly, lifting myself up, caressing his face. He stirs and pulls back, giving me a long look. Ugh, I probably look like a mess. I run my fingers under my eyes, hoping it’s enough to fix the smudged makeup.

He takes one of my hands in his. “Stop worrying about the way you look. Let me help you. Open your eyes, Ines,” he commands, and I do as he says, begrudgingly.

He wets his thumb and runs it gently under my eyes. I frown, mostly because this already has the potential to become one of the strangest, most bizarre morning-after moments I’ve experienced.

“There. It’s not that bad. I suppose it will look better after a shower. Wanna take one together?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

I let out a laugh and shake my head, covering my face with one hand.

He pulls it away and holds my arm up, shackling my wrist. “Stop this and let me look at you.” I grumble, and he laughs at my frustration. But now that I look at him, I can see that his hair is sticking out in every direction. I feel better knowing I’m not the only one who looks like a hot mess and I hold back a laugh.

“Come closer and let me fix your hair!” I say, reaching out with my other hand.

His eyes widen, and he raises his eyebrows. His expression turns into one so embarrassed and goofy, I have to bite my lip to stifle the laughter bubbling up in my chest.

“Oh, gosh. Is it messy?” he asks. His slightly worried tone is completely endearing, and after he tries in vain to fix his disheveled hair, he leans in closer, so I can do it. “I probably should get a haircut.”

“No, you don’t. Not yet anyway. I like the way it looks. I like your hair,” I tell him and bite my bottom lip to put an end to the word vomit.

“Thank you.” He smiles, eyes fixed on me as if he’s trying to make out if I’m real or not.

“It’s as black as the feathers of a crow.” He frowns. “Not in a bad way. You know how a crow’s plumage is so black it almost looks blue when the light hits it?” He nods. “That’s how your hair looks. The deepest, richest of black. The most beautiful hue of black out there.”

“Spoken like a true artist,” he compliments me, and I frown, mostly out of surprise. “So, what was up earlier? Why’d you get all out of sorts when I said, ‘good morning, sweetheart’? Did you hate that?”

I shake my head no and I scrunch up my lips in a pout.

“Quite the opposite,” I blurt, but then I feel my heart overtaken with such emotion that I have to take a deep breath. “That’s what my father used to say to my mother every morning,” I confess, avoiding his eyes because I feel a bit self-conscious. He grabs my hand and kisses it.

“I like it,” he responds, but I can’t bring myself to look at him. “Look at me, Ines.” Our gazes lock and I’m immediately lost in his green eyes, full of promises for what’s to come. Trust me, I won’t break your heart, they seem to tell me.

I want to believe him. I do.

I run a hand through his hair again, studying this beautiful man who’s so taken with me. After a few seconds of staring at me, he frowns.

“What’s wrong?”

“I thought your parents emigrated here from Spain?”

“They did.”

“And your father greeted your mother with ‘good morning, sweetheart’?”

I let out a soft laugh. “Most mornings. They were learning English and often they spoke to each other in English, so they could practice. But sometimes, I’d hear him tell her, ‘Buenos días, mi amor.’”

“Mi amor,” Esteban repeats, rolling the r on the last syllable. “I like that. Buenos días, mi amor,” he says in a deep, rumbly tone, before placing a soft kiss on my forehead. The ache that spreads in my chest is the sweetest kind of pain I’ve felt in a long time. I love how Esteban wears his heart on his sleeve and is so open with his emotions. I adore how playful he is this morning.

I caress his face when he pulls back. I could spend all day in this bed with him, but then I realize he probably has a million things to do.

“When is Vida Dulce’s official opening?”

“A week from Friday.”

“You probably have so much to do.” He nods. “Am I invited?” I ask against my better judgment.

He lets out a buoyant laugh. “Do you really need to ask?”

“Of course.” I lift myself up on my elbows. “We went out last night for the first time. I haven’t dated anyone in a long time, but I know it’s not okay for me to invade your personal life.”

“Invade away,” he teases.

“I’m serious. What if you want to keep me hush hush like I’m your dirty little secret?”

“Absolutely not. You might be my dirty, sexy little thing,” he whispers against my ear, making me shiver, “but I certainly don’t want you to be a secret. I can’t wait for everyone to meet you.” He bites his bottom lip and looks at me like he’s ready to have me for breakfast.

“Who do you mean by ‘everyone’ exactly? Are you going to parade me around town?” I tease.

“Maybe,” he replies in a gravelly voice that makes him sound stupidly sexy. His eyes light up with mischief.

My kind of mischief, apparently, as his hand travels slowly down my belly, and then his fingers make their way to my already wet folds. He teases my clit just long enough to make me hungry for more, but I don’t even have time to relax when he flips me around and slaps my ass.

“Ouch!” I protest.

He climbs on top of me and covers me with his body, his hands cupping my breasts.

“Let’s take a shower and then I’ll take you to breakfast, mi amor,” he says so close to my ear my body erupts with goose bumps and my mouth goes dry.

“Sì, senor,” I whisper back before he slaps me on the ass one more time.

If there’s one thing I learned so far this morning, it’s that Esteban Garcia can either be the most tender lover or a fucking tease, and my body lights up like a Christmas tree with either version of him.

 

 

“So, what happened between you and the boy last night?”

I purse my lips, trying my hardest to hold back my smile, but I can’t. I hide my face behind my cards. My heart is warm and fuzzy at the mention of him, and images from last night—and this morning—flash across my eyes.

Everything was just as perfect, just as intimate as it had been in my dreams. Last night he was sexy and romantic, and this morning he was a playful smart-mouth who did unbelievable things to me in that tiny shower. I am pleasantly sore. It was hard to say goodbye to him after breakfast. I told him I understand he’s very busy right now, but he wanted to make plans for later tonight. Dolores raises her eyebrows, impatiently waiting for my response.

“Dolores, he’s most certainly not a boy.” I give her a teasing look, waggling my eyebrows and laughing, hiding my rosy cheeks behind my cards. Dolores laughs along, shaking her head.

“Ayayayai, miha. You got me. You’re right. Esteban is quite the man. You’re lucky I’m not a bit younger, or I would have competed for his heart, fair and square. I was quite the looker, back in my day.”

“Dolores, you still are,” I tell her softly, grabbing her hand. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Gracias, Ines, but I’m definitely too old for your lover boy.”

I bite my lip. Thank goodness for that. I don’t know how I would feel if I had to compete for Esteban’s attention. I’ve never been the jealous type, but just the thought of it makes my blood boil.

It’s only been a few hours, and I miss him so much already.

“Ines, andale! It’s your turn to get a card.”

“Sorry, I got…distracted.”

“Daydreaming about him already, eh? He must be as…tasty as he looks,” she says winking.

I shake my head, smiling, embarrassed and delighted at the same time.

It’s nice to chat about this with someone who’s become a bit of a confidante, a bit of a motherly figure for me over the last few weeks. Dolores offers the insight of someone with more experience, but because we’re not related by blood, she has the perspective of a friend, more than a relative who’d urge me to be overly cautious in this situation.

“He was…oh, goodness.” My breath catches in my throat and I have to swallow before I can even say a word. “The night was everything I could have dreamed of.”

I shiver, closing my eyes, thinking about his kisses and about the last one he’d left me with this morning.

I place my cards down on the table and grab my phone.

I’m about to shoot him a message, but Dolores takes it out of my hands.

“What the…?”

“Ines, I shouldn’t be the one telling you this. You need to make him wait, querida. You’ve already given him your panocha.”

“My what?”

“Your vagina…your hooch. What did your mama call it?”

“Not that,” I tell her, holding back a laugh.

“You need to make him wait…just a little. You’re not a spring chicken, after all.”

“Haha, thanks for the reminder.” She puts the phone down on the table and I eye it, almost thinking about snatching it back. I know she’s right, but I’ve never been one to play games. I like Esteban. I was crazy about him before I had any real reason to be in the first place. Now that I know my instincts weren’t that far off, I just want him. “If he hasn’t texted yet, I know it’s because he’s busy.”

“That’s the number one excuse.”

“He really is, though. He said the inauguration for his new restaurant is in a week’s time and they’re trying to finalize everything for the party. Besides,” I say in a low, shy voice, “I don’t think he’s the type to make up excuses. And either way, we already made plans for tonight.”

“Ay, sì? What kind of plans?”

“He’s swinging by later tonight…”

“It better not be a booty call, Ines!” she exclaims.

“What do you know about booty calls, Dolores?” I laugh.

“I know enough,” she says, waving her hand in dismissal.

“Don’t worry. Esteban and I are grabbing a quick bite and then—”

“Then?”

“You know…I think I’ll give him my panocha again, since he liked it so much the first time.”

“Ines, you are playing with fire. Just be careful,” she says, shaking her head.

“Do you really think I should worry about Esteban? Has he broken many hearts in town?”

She shrugs and raises her eyebrows. “A couple, I think. But I don’t know that much about it.” I purse my lips, hoping my instincts aren’t wrong after all. I can’t see Esteban as someone who’s going to hurt me or trifle with me.

“I don’t know, Dolores. You should have seen him last night. He could have boasted and gloated about his restaurant and didn’t even admit it was his until I started pressing him about it. He’s not like the others.”

He’s not like Brad at all, who was always about status and showing off at work and at home. It came with the territory, but so many times I wished things were simpler. I wasn’t about the flashy, extravagant lifestyle. I had grown up the only daughter of two registered nurses. Immigrants at that. Both my parents enrolled in school when they moved to the States and had gotten their nursing licenses. Lavish homes on the hills were not on my radar, especially after losing my parents so prematurely. Being a decent person and having a fulfilling life mattered more to me than the dollar amount in my or anyone else’s bank account.

When it came to our personalities, Brad and I couldn’t have been more different. I like to think that in the beginning those differences were what attracted us to each other. He was the focused, ambitious young attorney and I was the free-spirited artist desperate to belong.

We’d met at a party when I was seeking some reprieve after seeing my mother deteriorate so rapidly in her hospital bed. At the time, Brad had been a breath of fresh air. He was funny, a bit cocky, and made me forget about everything else, especially how cruel life could be. I was so lost when my mother passed. With no family in the States, I had no roots, nothing to ground me. Brad was so patient with me and loving in a way that I hadn’t experienced.

I take a deep breath, thinking about how he hadn’t been like that in years. Once upon a time, he’d been a good man to me. When we got serious, he became the center of my universe. I realize now how wrong it was, but back then I had no compass, no guiding light. I’d just lost my mother, and I needed something, someone to ground me. Someone like him, from a good, stable family with a decent dose of ambition seemed the perfect fit.

But he wasn’t.

Maybe Dolores is right. Maybe I shouldn’t give into this thing with Esteban so easily. It looks like I’m falling into the same pattern all over again.

Is falling for Esteban too quickly as much of a mistake as it was falling for Brad?

I want to follow Dolores’ advice, but the burning fire in my heart tells me I have no choice. I can’t hold back when it comes to Esteban. Not right now, anyway.