Island Affair (Keys to Love #1) - Priscilla Oliveras Page 0,70
Moonbeams streamed in, stretching across the bed like a lazy lover.
Lying on his back, Luis folded his hands on top of the sheets and stared up at the ceiling. He wanted to ask about her tradition. What it was. What it meant to her. How it started.
Hell, he wanted to know everything about her. That increasing need, the fear of it taking off in a blazing fire he couldn’t contain, made him keep those questions to himself.
Sara shifted beside him. Her arm brushed against his, and Luis immediately tensed. Hyperaware of her nearness.
“Sorry,” she murmured. The sheets tugged as she slid away.
An awkward silence joined them, another unwanted bedmate.
Luis forced himself to lie still. Measuring his breathing. Ignoring the faint citrusy scent that perpetually lingered on her skin. Sleep eluded him. For the second night in a row, he accepted the fact that, thanks to the enticing woman lying only a few inches away, he wouldn’t get much rest.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“Everything.”
He shrugged, then realized she probably couldn’t see his reaction in the dark. “No problem.”
Sara’s soft chuckle sounded in the quiet; then she rolled onto her side to face him. Luis swiveled his head to find her watching him, her right arm bent at the elbow, tucked between her head and the pillow.
Her beautiful face with its classic features was a pencil artist’s study of light and dark. The moonlight reflected in her eyes, tiny bright squares in the shadowed pools. The corners of her mouth curved in a teasing, impish grin.
“What?” he asked.
“No problem? Seriously?”
He shrugged again, uncomfortable under her teasing scrutiny. Secretly admitting that being with her had quickly become a big problem, only not in the way she probably thought. Finding it more and more difficult to maintain the emotional detachment that enabled him to excel at his job. Or not blow up what remained of his tentative relationship with his younger brother.
More important, it kept him from making the same mistake of falling for the wrong woman again. Someone who took his trust and love and twisted them into grotesque weapons used to deeply wound him.
“You’ve put up with my sister’s bluntness and, call a spade a spade, her snobbery,” Sara continued. “You’ve buddied up with my brother. Bowled over my parents, especially my mother. And survived our hypercompetitive family game night. Most men would have hopped in a speedboat and gunned the engine to get away.”
“I’m not most men.”
Her grin widened, the flash of her straight white teeth drawing his attention to her mouth, her kissable lips.
“No, you’re definitely not like most men. And for that, I’m immensely grateful.”
“Yeah?” Despite his better judgment, Luis found himself rolling onto his side to face her. Mimicking her position, he tucked his left arm under his head.
They weren’t touching. In fact, a good six inches separated them. And yet the quiet of a house tucked away for the night, the moonlight bathing them in soft shadows, and their hushed conversation created an air of intimacy that pulled at Luis. It drew him to her like a fishing hook ensnared in his chest, slowly reeling him in.
“Yeah,” she murmured. A lock of her golden tresses slipped across her cheek when she nodded.
Luis reached out to gently comb her hair away, tucking it behind her ear.
Sara’s lids drifted closed and it took all his willpower for him not to lean in, sample her sweet lips. A good-night treat he hungered for.
Reluctantly he pulled his hand away, leaving it in a tight fist in the space between them on the bed.
Eyes downcast, Sara feathered her fingertips over the back of his hand. Once. Twice.
Luis held his breath. Wanting more. Craving all of her. But firm in his conviction that he not make a move unless she made it clear she wanted him to. The moment she did—
The warmth of her soft sigh filled the small space separating them. She set her hand next to his. Her thumb caressed the side of his pinkie finger and damn if it wasn’t both the sweetest and sexiest sensation. Blood pooled low in his body, urging him to throw caution to the high-seas wind. Let her know he was interested in taking this pretend relationship to a very real, very satisfying place.
“So, let me clarify. Thank you, for being such a stand-up guy,” she said softly.
He nearly groaned in frustration. Talk about a splash of ice water on his libido and the un-stand-up-guy impulses he barely held in check.