The Latin Lover Read online

  “Nevertheless, it is obviously time for you to take a break.”

  “Sounds good. You going to take me out to dinner?” she asked with a grin.

  He was back to looking positively forbidding. “You have not eaten yet?”

  She rolled her eyes. “No. I’ve never quite gotten the hang of eating on American hours. I still prefer my last meal of the day to be closer to eight.”

  “It is almost nine.”

  “Have you eaten?” she asked, disappointed in advance. Since he was making such a big deal of it, she was pretty sure he already had.

  “Actually, no.”

  “Then you can take me out to eat.”

  “You are spoiled.”

  “And whose fault is that? You are the one who takes me for a meal every time you come to visit. Can I be blamed for having certain expectations?”

  “You are a minx.”

  She laughed. “That’s me. Phoebe Leonides…otherwise known as the shy one…a minx.”

  “You are never shy with me.”

  “You’re my friend. I’m not shy with my family either.”

  “You are shy around Dimitri.”

  She frowned. “Don’t bring up your brother. You’ll ruin my good mood.”

  Oh, now he looked truly offended. “There is nothing wrong with my brother.”

  “Except that us marrying each other is the dumbest idea my father and your grandfather have ever had. And I bought into it,” she said, with a healthy dose of exasperation directed at herself.

  “You do not want to marry my brother?”

  “Please, Spiros, you know me better than anyone else. Don’t tell me you are surprised.”

  “But I am shocked, byba. You made a promise.”

  She loved it when he called her baby girl. “So did he. But where is he now? Not here.”

  “I am here, seeing to his interests.”

  “He has no interest in me.”

  “That is not true.”

  “And you are here because you are my friend.” She twisted in his arms and tickled vulnerable ribs. “Admit it.”

  He laughed out loud and almost dropped her. “Watch it, byba. You are going to end up with a sore bottom rather than a sleeping leg.”

  “You’d never spank me.” And she would never tell him about the zing of erotic pleasure that went through her at the thought of being bottom-up in his lap.

  “Someone should have spanked you when you were younger.”

  “You would have thrown a fit if they had.”

  “I was naive then…a foolish boy who thought byba mou could do no wrong. Clearly I was deceived as to the sweetness of your character.”

  “Are you saying you don’t think your byba is sweet?” she asked, with a pout she’d perfected just for him.

  A look came over him that sent erotic pulses pinging through her. “More sweet than is good for me.”

  “Are you sure, Spiros?” Was that husky voice hers? “I think I am very good for you.”

  He closed his eyes for several seconds of silence and then opened them. “I think you need to change if I am going to take you out.”

  “You don’t want to be seen with me wearing my sweats?” she asked, making no move to leave her secure perch.

  “I refuse to take you where others might see that band of flesh between your top’s hem and the waist of those too provocative bottoms.”

  “My sweats are not provocative.”

  He lowered her so she was standing in front of him and then fingered the waistband of her zebra-striped velvet bottoms. “These? They cling to your perfectly shaped derrière and could stand to go further up your torso.”

  He thought her butt was shaped perfectly? Another smile broke over her face. “I’m no Urkle wannabe. I have no intention of wearing my pants up around my armpits.”

  “Who is Urkle?”

  She forgot that he hardly ever watched television—and never the American programs. “A nerdy character in an old sitcom.”

  “And she wears her sweats above her belly button?”

  “It’s a him and, yes, way above…but don’t think for a minute I’m going to. This is the style.”

  “If you bend over, I will see the swell of your bottom.”

  “You think?” He was being circumspect, but he meant the crack of her bottom, and she could not let that statement go unchallenged. She spun and bent over. “Well? See anything?” She knew darn well he didn’t. She wasn’t a tramp, and didn’t dress like one.

  But Spiros did not answer.

  She looked back over her shoulder and her breath locked in her chest. He was staring at her in a way she had only ever dreamed of. With a dark hunger that called to something deep in her womb.

  She straightened. “Spiros?”

  He stared at her. “You should not have done that.”

  “Why?” she asked, her brain refusing the evidence of her own eyes as impossible.

  He couldn’t want her. She’d loved him for too long, getting nothing but friendship back in return, for things to have changed like this. It was wishful thinking on her part. It had to be.

  Only he was still looking at her as if she was a feast and he the starving man.

  “Because,” he said, in a tone she had never heard from him before.

  “Because why?” She was nothing if not tenacious.

  Anyone who knew her at all knew that. And he knew her better than most.

  He didn’t smile at her childish prompting as he had always done in the past. His jaw was too rigid for even a facsimile of one. But he stepped forward.

  She had the craziest urge to step back. Crazy because close to him was where she wanted to be. It always had been—even before she’d known she was in love with him. Only right this second he was almost a stranger. A dangerous stranger.

  But he would never hurt her. She knew that. No matter how intense he was acting right now. And if by some miracle his attitude meant what it seemed to mean, she wanted it. She knew she did.

  So why did those internal reminders fail to dispel the weird sense of fear trying to take hold? She was strong enough to stand against it, though.

  And she would.

  He took another step forward, and another…and then he was so close she could feel his body heat in the scant bit of air between them. His scent was different up close. Not merely the expensive aftershave he wore, because she’d been buying it for him since she was ten, but another spicy fragrance that could only be him. It was warm, like his body…how could a smell be warm?

  But it was. And it was good—oh, so good. She wanted to lean forward and nuzzle her nose in his neck and just revel in it.

  She’d smelled him before, but there was a quality to his personal scent that was different now…a musk that sent a sharp ache deep into her womb. Her legs felt weak and she swayed a little, her face doing that nuzzle thing of its own accord.

  He took in a sharp breath even as she inhaled his scent.

  She throbbed in that hidden place between her legs. She’d never felt like this, even when she’d lain in her bed at night and thought about him. It was so different. Scary, but totally delicious too.

  Which was exactly how the odd fear felt—kind of yummy. And that was really odd. Fear wasn’t yummy, or fun. At least it never had been before. But this sensation wasn’t one she wanted to end immediately. How weird was that?

  Her disjointed ruminations ceased as she became acutely aware of how he filled her senses. His body heat surrounded her. Everything beyond him fuzzed in her vision, as if her eyes wanted to focus wholly on him. And his scent reached out to her, drawing her closer with an undeniable pull.

  He didn’t say anything as she rubbed her nose very lightly in the hollow of his neck. This close, she could smell the difference in where she nuzzled and his face, where his aftershave left a stronger impression. She’d always loved that cologne—that was why she bought it for him—but right now she wanted his essence. She needed to imprint him on her sensory memorie
s.

  He didn’t move. Not to get away, not to get closer. He remained utterly still.

  She met his silence with one of her own, not wanting this magical moment to end. If she never had anything else from him, no one could ever take away this moment. The first—and maybe the only—sensual encounter between two friends closer than most family.

  Taking a deep breath, she inhaled more of him, and shuddered as her breasts came into contact with his chest. He made a sound like a growl, but still no words.

  Her nipples ached behind the thin layers of her bra and her top. She pressed more firmly into him, trying to relieve that ache. It didn’t work. She only wanted more. She needed…something from him…but she didn’t know what. She’d read about this kind of thing, talked it over with her friends. She’d even tried experimenting. But she didn’t like kissing other men when all she could think about was the one she loved. Even if she couldn’t have him, her body had never allowed her to have anyone else either. No matter how hard she’d tried.

  The fact that she was de facto engaged to his brother had prevented her from dating more than a few times anyway. She always felt so guilty, though she shouldn’t have.

  It wasn’t as if Dimitri wanted her, and she was positive he wasn’t celibate. She’d seen pictures in the paper of him with a French model, though she’d never mentioned them to anyone else. He was good at keeping his name out of the media, so she saw no reason to stir trouble about the couple of times he hadn’t been able to.

  She doubted his family even knew.

  But what was she doing thinking about Dimitri when his brother—the man she loved—was standing right here? She would groan at herself if she could get enough air into her lungs. You’d think with the way she kept taking in his scent she’d have plenty of air, but she felt light-headed anyway.

  And that was her only excuse for what she did next. Lack of oxygen to the brain.

  CHAPTER TWO

  SHE curled her hands around Spiros’s lean hips and then she flicked her tongue out to taste the skin tantalizing her senses so thoroughly.

  Salty.

  Sweet.

  Warm.

  Addictive.

  She tasted him again, this time letting her tongue linger just a bit longer.

  Suddenly one of his hands was buried in her hair, pressing her face into his neck. “Bite me.”

  The guttural voice vibrated through her and made disobedience or even a question out of the realm of possibilities. She delicately nipped at his skin, sucking a little, taking more of the wonderful flavor into her mouth.

  He growled, a sound at the same time animalistic and intensely masculine.

  Then that big hand was pulling her head back, and his own was coming down. Their lips were touching. They kissed. At first carefully, as if neither could believe this was actually happening. Then they were devouring each other. Lips and teeth moving, clashing…claiming. She’d never been kissed like this. She’d never kissed this way either.

  So erotically—like they were having sex with their mouths. Making love as surely as if they were both naked and writhing together on a bed.

  So possessively—like they were marking each other for life, claiming the taste, feel and scent of one another in a molding of mouths as intimate as any other act of love.

  So intently—like nothing and no one else existed in their universe.

  She couldn’t get enough of the feel of his lips against hers, of the taste of his mouth. Of anything.

  It was all so very wonderful…amazing…unexpected.

  So perfect.

  She’d had so many dreams of this moment, and none of them even came close to the overwhelming sensuality of his actions or her own.

  Strong hands grasped her bottom and lifted her until her body was not only flush with his, but the apex of her thighs cradled an unmistakable hardness. Her own hands had been forced to let go of his hips as she was lifted, so she locked them behind his neck.

  The bunching of muscles against her and a sense of disorientation told her they were moving, but she was so focused on the kiss she couldn’t be bothered to lift her head and find out where. Then the hard wall was against her back, and that hardness was being thrust against her in a way that sent jolts of electric pleasure zinging through her.

  One right after another. Until she felt like she was going to explode any moment in a shower of sparks.

  And still the kiss went on. And on. And on.

  He tasted her; his tongue dominated the interior of her mouth; his teeth rubbed against her own. It was hot…passionate. Completely astonishing.

  Spiros was always so suave, so laid back. She hadn’t known he had this inside him. Or, frankly, that she had it inside herself. However, the shock coursing through her in no way impinged on her passion.

  His hard body held her against the wall, and despite the heat he emanated she was shivering with reaction. Desperate little noises came out of her mouth—muffled by his lips and tongue, but there all the same.

  She needed more. Oh, please. Just a little more.

  Her body tried to tell him what she needed, since she couldn’t do so with words. Her pelvis pressed against him in an instinctive move she had never practiced before. Her legs spread, making room for him to press against her feminine center more fully. And he did.

  The sensation was so intense she screamed into his mouth, her body racked with shudders. The pleasure built and built. She was sure she was going to shatter into a million pieces any second. But she didn’t. And the ecstasy did not abate either. It got bigger and bigger. She couldn’t possibly hold it all in.

  What was happening to her?

  It was so intense, so much.

  The man she loved was doing this…she was doing this. This was so much more than a kiss. This was a melding of their souls.

  The thought sent the stars inside her exploding into a supernova of delight so consuming that the world went black around the edges and then disappeared altogether.

  Her eyelashes fluttered as she woke. But her eyes did not open. Her body felt languid. Not tense, like she usually was during finals week. As she lay there she tried to make sense of where she was—when it was. She had been studying. Spiros had come. Images flashed through her mind. Then memory came flooding back in a tidal wave, accompanied by remembered pleasure, and she moaned.

  “Phoebe, byba, are you all right?”

  She opened her eyes to see a nervous-looking Spiros hovering beside her bed. He was frowning, his hair a tumbled mess of curls around his face. He’d obviously been running his fingers through it.

  She smiled, though it was an effort. She was wrecked. If a kiss could do that to her, how would she ever survive making love completely?

  She realized she’d asked the question aloud when Spiros’s frown got darker. “You are overtired from studying too many hours and not eating. You must take better care of yourself.”

  “Trust me when I tell you that today is the not the first time I missed my dinner. And I’ve never passed out like that.”

  “Naturally not. You are promised to Dimitri. You are not kissing other men. I should never have kissed you.”

  She wasn’t getting into her attempts to overcome her feelings for Spiros. He would never understand. He truly considered her engaged to Dimitri, even though no formal announcement had ever been made. And now was not the time to discuss her differing perspective on the subject. He looked so miserable.

  She pushed herself into a sitting position. “I started it.”

  “You are an innocent,” he said dismissively. “You did not know what effect your small touch would have on me.”

  That was true. She’d had no idea her touch could affect him at all—small or otherwise. “But it is not something I regret.”

  “And you should not. It was not your fault. You must forget about it. Get past it.” He was babbling.

  Spiros, Mr. Sophistication himself, was prattling on like a new student on orientation day.

&nb
sp; It would be endearing if he wasn’t trying so hard to pretend nothing of import had happened between them.

  She looked down at her clasped hands and said softly, “I don’t think I can forget.”

  How could she forget the best moments in her life? She didn’t even want to.

  “Please, byba, you must try. For the sake of our friendship, for the sake of our families. I know I should not have kissed you. It was wrong. I cannot believe I did such a thing. I have more integrity than that.” His voice had grown husky and he had to clear his throat. “For those moments I was not myself, and I took you to a place neither of us should have gone, but we do not have to allow the last twenty minutes to have a permanently tarnishing effect on our honor.”

  He sounded desolate, more hurt than he’d been in her memory. And there was no mistaking the self-loathing lacing his voice. It tore at her heart.

  Oh, man…A Petronides in full guilt mode could be scary. Really, truly frightening. She’d seen it before. Not often, mind you. The men in that family were fanatical about not letting others down. If she didn’t do something soon, it was going to get out of hand.

  “It was not your fault. I was with you all the way.”

  If anything, his expression turned more pained. “Do not say that,” he instructed her fiercely. “You are years younger than me, and inexperienced. I take all the blame.”

  “For what? It was a kiss…with unexpected results, maybe, but still just a kiss.”

  “Yes. Only a kiss. Remember that. You have nothing to reproach yourself for.”

  She wasn’t regretting anything, but she knew he definitely did not want to hear that. She’d never seen him so distraught.

  She stood up and tugged at the hem of her T-shirt. “Okay. No tarnished honor. For either of us.”

  Now was not the time to discuss her breaking off things—such as they were—with Dimitri. That was something she had to do on her own anyway. Right now she had to get things back on an even keel with Spiros. She loved him too much to watch him beat himself up like this.