Chapter 23
Steph
As always, Carlos made sure I was securely settled in the passenger seat of his car before he closed the door. Unlike always, though, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to my lips before stepping away. It was brief, but searing, branding me, heating my blood and making me yearn for more.
"I've thought about doing that every time I helped you into the car," he murmured. His gaze flicked to my eyes to gauge my reaction, checking to make sure I was okay with it.
"I've wanted you to do it every time, too," I whispered, barely in control of my breath as my mind suddenly brought up everything else I wanted to do to him. With him.
He let loose a full 200-watt grin, all but laughing as he glanced over his shoulder to the house where I noted gaps in the curtains, most likely caused by nosy Manosos taking their fill once more. "Maybe not in front of my parents place," he murmured, slowly closing the door between us.
"Maybe," I agreed to myself, watching him stride around the front of the Porsche, and wondering if I'd spoken my thoughts aloud, or if he was having thoughts of his own. Either way, I was getting hot and bothered just thinking about it. I'd had to glance back to the house again and those slivers of light slipping between the curtains to finally get my heartrate down. I definitely was not going to give the Manosos a show, let alone the rest of the neighbourhood.
Carlos slid behind the wheel then, strapping himself in and coaxing the engine to roar to life. Before he pulled away from the curb, though, he reached over, grabbed my hand and brought it to his mouth, placing a kiss right in the centre of my palm, then settled it on his thigh so that my fingertips were mere inches from his zipper. And just like that, my thoughts were whirling away from me once more.
When he pulled into the parking lot behind my apartment building sometime later, the soothing classical music dying along with the sumptuous vibrations from the engine, I realised I'd been lost in thought since the moment Carlos had steered the car away from the curb in Newark.
Blinking back to reality, I hastily reached into the footwell for my purse, turning my head to the side in the same movement to try gauge Carlos's mood. I usually tried to make conversation while we drove, but tonight I'd completely blanked out, making me an utterly useless passenger. Mom would give me an earful if she ever found out. When someone is doing you the courtesy of giving you a lift, the least you can do is share a pleasant conversation with them to pass the time. Dickie's mood had always soured if I was quiet too long in the car, assuming that I was mad at him. He wanted to know every detail of my life, what girlfriends I was seeing and when. In retrospect, it was probably so that he could plan his trysts for when I wasn't around.
Carlos's face was impassive as he levered himself out from behind the wheel, fixing the collar of his jacket as he closed the door, and made his way around to my side where he opened the door and silently offered me a hand. God, I'd offended him. This relationship was doomed if we couldn't even make it past the drive home from family dinner. My lip was between my teeth as I straightened in front of him, trying to pluck up the courage to say something to explain my silence. But my mind was still overrun by the images accompanying the train of thought that had derailed my usual Burg manners, and I was finding it hard to get all the carriages back in the right order.
I had my head down, busying myself with the clasp on my purse that had come undone during the drive, when his warm, calloused hand slid under my chin, lifting my face so that I had no choice but to meet his gaze.
"Deep thoughts, Babe?" he asked, brows furrowing as he ran a thumb over my lower lip, gently teasing it out from between my teeth.
"Yeah," I murmured, my breath coming unevenly under the weight of his stare. "Sorry for zoning out."
The corner of his lips twitched down a fraction of an inch before lifting into a half smile that was still enough to send butterflies fluttering through my stomach. "Nothing to be sorry for," he assured me. His hand was still caressing my face, making it almost impossible to concentrate. I'd had just a small taste of what this man could do with his lips, and I wanted more. I found myself so transfixed on his mouth as he spoke, admiring the shapes and angles and imagining what they would feel like against not just my lips, but my body, that it took a moment for his words to filter into my brain.
"We've both been given a lot to think about tonight," he said. "But let's get one thing straight right now."
I jerked at his serious tone. He had my full attention. "Wh-" I started to stammer, but he cut me off.
"You never have to apologise for talking or not talking in my presence."
"What?" That wasn't what I was expecting to come out of his mouth.
He let his hands drift down to my shoulders, slowly gliding their way down so that we stood holding hands, like a couple of teenagers. "Earlier, you apologised for what you deemed as talking too much on the way to my parents'," he pointed out. "And just now, you apologised for not talking on the way home."
I nodded, because that was exactly what I'd done. "Mom taught me to always-"
One of his hands released mine so he could lay a finger over my lips, preventing me from finishing my sentence. "Doesn't matter what your mom taught you," he said. "From what you've told me about her, she has a very narrow opinion of how the world should work that doesn't fit so well with the reality we live in. So, if you need to talk, talk. I'll listen. And if you need to think, I'll sit with you in the silence while you do."
I almost wanted to cry. That was one of the most supportive things anyone had ever said to me. He wasn't trying to get me to conform to his rules. He just wanted me to be me, and do what I needed to do in the moment. "You are really nailing your first night as official boyfriend," I told him, leaning up to kiss him.
"I have a couple months to catch up on," he replied, taking advantage of my closer proximity to wrap his arms around me. "If I'd known you were open to a relationship with me I might have acted on my feelings sooner."
Curious, I lifted my chin so I could see his face in the yellow lights illuminating the parking lot. "How sooner?"
He grimaced at that, and I assumed this was one of those questions he was going to deflect. As he adjusted his hold on me, tucking me under his arm, and leading me inside, I was wracking my brain for a new topic to quell the new silence between us. We were in front of the elevator, waiting for it to descend from the sixth floor when he finally let out a sigh and said, "If I'd managed to pull my head out of my ass instead of assuming you were with Marco for a year…"
I gasped, partly from surprise that he'd answered at all, partly from the information he'd just revealed. "That long?"
The elevator doors sprang open, but we made no move to enter it, staring into each other's eyes instead. "Since the moment I laid eyes on you," he said quietly. "Since your laugh entered my chest and shook something loose inside me that I haven't been able to put back."
I had no idea what to say to that. Had I found him immediately attractive? Of course. A woman would have to be dead to not be attracted to him. But a lot has happened in the last year and a bit. Not least of which was the fact that I'd been emotionally devastated when I met Ranger, having just caught my then-husband having sex with another woman while I was in the apartment just hours earlier. There was no way I'd have been up for a relationship at that time. And given how standoffish he'd been over the following visits, would I have even considered it? Then again, if he'd understood that Marco and I weren't together from the beginning, would he have been so standoffish?
I lifted my head to find that he'd apparently ushered us into and out of the elevator while I'd been distracted, because we were now standing in the hall outside my apartment. How long had we been standing there while he waited for me to finish my thoughts?
Hastily, I started digging in my purse for my keys only to have Carlos stay my hand and gently scooch me aside, holding up my keys in his other hand with an amused expression ghosting over his face.
"Did you -" I started to ask, but as I cast my mind back, I acknowledged that the act of passing him my keys to unlock my apartment and do his little security sweep when we arrived at my door had become such a habit that I must have done it without thinking. "No, but I did," I muttered to myself in answer to my unfinished question about how the keys had ended up in his hand as he disappeared inside.
By the time reappeared a minute or so later, my mind had drifted back to Carlos's feelings for me. He tugged me over the threshold and relocked the door, sealing us both inside, and I voiced the question that had been on my lips before I was distracted by the keys. "Is that why you were so angry at Marco at Christmas?" I asked as he removed his shoes and tucked them under the end table - apparently he was planning on staying a while… Like all night? I shivered at the very idea. "It was less about Marco's actions and more about the fact that you could have allowed yourself to be closer to me over the last year. You'd missed an opportunity to get to know me?"
He crossed his arms over his chest, hip leaning against the table as he considered me. "I assure you it was all about Marco's actions, or the actions I'd perceived he'd taken, in the moment that I tackled him to the ground."
"Bobby and Elena said he pulled you down with him," I pointed out, attempting to do that single raised eyebrow thing I'd seen some of the guys at work do.
He shook his head, that smile returning to his lips as he closed the distance between us once more. His hands came up on either side of my face, but instead of gently caressing the way he had earlier, his thumbs pressed against each of my eyebrows, one pulling down while the other pulled up. Guess I hadn't quite managed the expression. "Agree to disagree," he informed me. "But I was outraged on your behalf until I was informed of your lack of relationship with my brother."
His thumbs slipped away from my brows as his fingers delved into my hair. I wanted to finish the conversation, but if he was going to be touching me like this, I doubted I'd make it much further. Licking my lips and taking in a hitching breath, I tried to keep my attention off his mouth, but found that looking into his darkening brown eyes was just as fatal. I could feel the memory of his lips on mine, the promise of more in his gaze, and my god did I want it. But I needed to get the information first.
In an effort to prevent myself from getting lost in the possibilities of what came next, I laid my hands on his chest, ensuring a barrier of my arms between us. But even that ratcheted up the heat of desire pooling low in my belly as I felt his accelerated heart rate, the heavy rise and fall of his ribcage as he inhaled and exhaled.
Focus, Stephanie!
"So then, you gave me the job because you felt guilty?" I asked, surprised at how low and sultry the question sounded. There was nothing sexy about the question, but you wouldn't have known it from hearing my voice and seeing the way he reacted: eyes widening, nostrils flaring, a slight jerk of his body. It was good to know I wasn't the only one affected, at least.
"I offered you the job because you needed one, and I needed an office manager, for which you are qualified," he said. His voice was steady, but he was staring hungrily.
"So-" I tried to ask another question but he'd apparently had enough.
"Babe," he said firmly. "Can we just accept that everything that's happened up until now was necessary for us to be together and leave it at that?"
His words stirred a new curiosity in me. He'd never made outright statements like this during our weekly dinner not-dates, but he'd hinted at a belief in something larger than ourselves steering a bigger picture. He believed in God, sure. Was raised Catholic like me, and we all knew the lingering effects that could have. But this was different. "Do you believe in fate?" I asked, even as my hands began to rub absently at his chest.
Something akin to a purr rumbled from his throat. "I believe there are certain events that are inevitable."
"Such as?"
Carlos's gaze dragged from where he'd been holding my own captive, down to my mouth, lingering there for a long moment, before travelling back up to my eyes. "I'm going to kiss you."
Yes!
"I should hope so," I laughed, allowing my hands to snake up and around his neck, locking together so that we were forced to press together. We were so close that the intoxicating smell of his cologne permeated my senses, drawing me in even more. "We've been together almost five hours now, and you've only kissed me four times."
As though this was all the permission he'd needed, he used his hands, still tangled in my hair, to guide my mouth to his, slanting those surprisingly soft lips over mine for long moments before adjusting his hold on me, his hands ghosting down my back and sides to caress my ass and press me tight against him. There was no mistaking his desire. And then his tongue was sliding past my lips and someone was moaning. Probably me.
"Un beso por cada hora que estamos juntos," he murmured against my neck when we came up for air what felt like hours later. I was so lost in the sensations he was stirring up. Didn't know where he started and I ended. Didn't want to know.
"What does that mean?" I asked breathlessly, letting out a small gasp when he blew on the spot he'd just been laving.
"All the kisses you want," he said raggedly, delving in again, nipping at my earlobe, my pulse point. If it weren't for his hands on my body I would have been a puddle on the floor, my every bone turned to jelly.
"I should learn Spanish," I murmured absently, tipping my head to the side to give him better access.
He lifted his face, catching my gaze once more and sending a fire of arousal shooting through my body, straight to my already blazing core. "I'll teach you," he offered, the husky quality to his voice making me think he liked the idea of me speaking the language.
I sweeped an errant lock of hair out of his face, never once breaking eye contact. "How do you say more?"
"Más."
"Más," I repeated.
He grinned. "With pleasure." He used his grip on my ass to lift me, guiding my legs to lock around his hips as he carried me through to the living room where he plopped down on the couch, his lips back on my neck the second we were no longer in transit, and while I was happy to have his attentions resume, I was a little confused.
"Why not the bed?"
He pulled back again, his brow furrowed this time as he sucked in a deep, steadying breath. "I'm trying to go about this the right way, Babe," he explained. "This is only our first date, and it wasn't even a romantic one. I don't want to rush things."
"Carlos," I groaned, leaning my head against his shoulder, because while we'd agreed to start the date counter from tonight, I couldn't just ignore the weeks of growing sexual tension that had lead up to this moment, nor the fact that the second he'd finally kissed me in the greenhouse, it had opened a floodgate of desire that I'd been just barely holding down. And judging by the insistent bulge behind his zipper, I thought it was safe to say he was in a similar state. "You're killing me."
He chuckled, simply wrapping his arms around me in a hug and resting his chin on the top of my head. "Trust me. It's a murder-suicide. But I want to prove to you that I want you for more than just your body."
I jolted upright, staring down at him. "You mean you don't think the fact that you've been voluntarily spending time with me, telling me about yourself, teaching me to cook, shows me that you like me for who I am, that you care about me, and not the pleasure I can offer you?"
Carlos's lips pressed together. "I wouldn't put it quite like that," he said. "But I still want the opportunity to take you on a real date before we fall into bed together."
And how could I say no to that? If I'd offered myself up to any other guy they would have jumped at the chance to bed me and be done with it. Carlos wanted to do this right, and deep down, under my raging hormones, I had to admit the chivalry was refreshing. "Okay," I agreed, shifting so that I sat across his lap instead of straddling it, leaning against his chest and fingering his collar. "Are you free tomorrow night?"
"Babe." His tone was amused, but it didn't answer my question.
"Well, are you?" I pressed.
