Spanish Surrender, page 20
She sighed.
“What?” Paula asked.
“I hate charades.”
“So don’t play them.”
Loreto grabbed the pitcher and shook her head. “I don’t intend to.”
She wove her way back through the crowded room, having to thread carefully between tables and chairs crammed entirely too close together for the subterranean venue. The rough walls had been painted white, but no amount of bright colors could disguise a glorified wine cellar, and she got the feeling it was about to feel a lot more claustrophobic.
“Hola, Rubia,”
“My name’s Simone,” she said, without looking up.
“Glad you didn’t get lonely while I was away.” She plopped the pitcher of sangria down between the two women sitting at her table. “Bienvenido, Valentina.”
“Loreto,” Valentina said warmly, but she made no move to vacate her seat. “I thought I saw you here during the show.”
“Yes, I had to bring Simone here to see the best Sevilla has to offer.”
Valentina turned back to Simone. “This one likes to flatter.”
“Does she now?” Simone asked.
“Always so smooth with all the compliments.”
“Hmm.” Simone made a little noise in the back of her throat.
“I should’ve known she’d be here with the most beautiful woman in the room.”
“Are you referring to the bartender?” Simone asked coolly as she poured herself another sangria.
Valentina laughed, then looked from Simone to Loreto. “A little snap to this one, Reto.”
“Not snap, bite,” Loreto said. “What good is a growl if you haven’t got the teeth to back it up, right, Rubia?”
“Actually, my name isn’t ‘Blondie,’ it’s ‘Simone.’”
Valentina chuckled, and a muscle in Simone’s jaw twitched. “I admire your spark, Simone. You and Loreto are well matched. I am a performer, and I always recognize my cue to exit the stage.”
“We’re not well matched,” Simone said, a little too quickly, her voice just a smidge too high. “You’re very welcome to join me.”
Valentina started to rise anyway, but Loreto clasped a hand on her shoulder. “No, please stay. We’re all consenting adults. Simone and I have a business agreement and a personal understanding.”
Valentina shot Loreto a knowing look. “I understand.”
Loreto laughed. The comment couldn’t have been more perfect, and neither could Simone’s pursed lips as she did the math. Her eyes darkened as any doubts about Loreto and Valentina’s relationship vanished. Loreto, sensing her work was nearly done, added, “I’m happy to go back to the bar and let the two of you get better acquainted.”
Simone’s smile twitched, and her hands tightened only enough to put a minor wrinkle in the black tablecloth. Neither move constituted a major tell, but they were enough to assure Loreto that wasn’t at all what Simone wanted.
Still, Simone didn’t break easily. She managed to keep her voice completely even as she said, “If you wish. We’re both off the clock now. You’re free to go.”
Now it was Loreto’s turn to grind her teeth. Of course Simone would grant her permission to leave work, even though she hadn’t requested it or even felt like she’d need it until that moment. The power play was blatant and cheap, and a flash of anger crackled like lightning through her chest, but she tightened her mental grip. Simone was clearly acting out, which meant she was scared or flustered, which in turn meant Loreto had gotten under her skin.
Still, understanding why someone had made a shitty comment and letting them get away with it were two different things. “Does rattling those purse strings make you feel better about yourself? Give you that false sense of control you need so much?”
Valentina hopped up, her dress swishing around Loreto as she positioned herself for a quick exit. “Actually, I do think I’m going to go see what Paula’s up to. I didn’t mean to step into whatever this is.”
She didn’t wait for either of them to argue, but Loreto didn’t expect they would have. The only argument brewing now was between the two of them. She retook her seat and poured her glass full of sangria. Then sitting back, she calmly asked, “Do you want to talk about what just happened or not?”
“You just—” Simone started, then stopped.
“I what?”
“I don’t know, what’s the lesbian equivalent of a cock block?”
Loreto nearly shot sangria out of her nose as she tried to stifle a laugh.
“Is that humorous to you?”
“On so many levels,” Loreto admitted, “but you seem very serious right now, seething even, so I feel like maybe I shouldn’t laugh.”
Simone shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Your mouth says so, but your eyes don’t agree. That’s happened a lot today. I feel like maybe we’ve had a misunderstanding. If you want to start with this whole lesbian cock-blocking thing, we can, because it’s very easy to clear up. I’d happily call Valentina back over and provide you both with stellar references if you’d like.”
“Because you’ve slept with us both,” Simone stated flatly.
“Yes,” Loreto said matter-of-factly.
“And the bartender?”
“Not . . . no.”
Simone scoffed. “You were about to say ‘not yet.’”
“Does that bother you?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” Loreto said with genuine seriousness. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression last night, or with Valentina. I enjoy the company of passionate women, but I don’t consider them notches in some bedpost. And even if I did, I don’t doubt you do as well in that department as I do.”
“Don’t flatter me, either,” Simone shot back. “I’m plenty confident in my prospects. I don’t need your patronizing affirmations.”
“I’m not patronizing. I only meant that you have nothing to prove to me, and I’m not trying to prove anything to you. There’s nothing to feel jealous or insecure about, but if—”
“I am not jealous of that woman, or the bartender, or you for that matter,” Simone cut in.
“No?”
Simone pushed back from the table. “No.”
“Because jealousy would be too straightforward for you? Because jealousy would be easy enough to control? You’d only have to say you wanted me in your bed tonight, and I’d be there, but admitting that would be too much like asking, and we both know how you feel about that.”
Simone remained stone-faced, but her knuckles had gone white where she still held her glass of sangria.
“So you watch me talk to someone else, and instead of letting yourself want me, you only let yourself feel annoyed.”
Simone shrugged one shoulder. “You do annoy me.”
Loreto laughed. “And that’s what turned your annoyance to anger. You’re mad I have the power to annoy you. That’s why you faked an interest in Valentina. That’s why you made your shitty aside about giving me permission to talk to someone else. That’s why you’re all hot under the collar now. You care about me enough to be bothered when I look at another woman.” Loreto laughed as she saw the truth of her statement flash like a strobe light through Simone’s eyes. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re annoyed that you’re annoyed.”
“Do I need to be here for this armchair psychology session?” Simone asked, standing up, “or can I leave you to your delusion while I run to the restroom?”
“Come on now, sit down,” Loreto said, calmly reaching for her hand, but Simone swatted her away and stormed off.
Loreto took another long swig from her sangria. That hadn’t gone as well as she’d hoped. She’d sort of expected Simone’s cool, analytical side to allow them to have an adult conversation about their feelings, but she’d underestimated her resolve. Now they were going to have to have it out.
She stood and followed Simone across the room, catching up to her just as she pushed open the door to the single-stall bathroom.
“What the hell?” Simone snapped as Loreto shut the door behind them and flipped the dead bolt. She was too close, the space too confined. She was close enough for Simone to smell the sweet red wine on her breath and see the subtle way her pupils dilated as they landed on Simone’s heaving chest.
She had to stop this. She had to get away. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Loreto. She did, but she didn’t trust herself around her. Loreto had been right, or at least partially right, in her assertions about her anger. She wasn’t mad at Valentina or the bartender or even Loreto, and she could have admitted that if Loreto had also been right about the underlying emotion behind her annoyance. She got annoyed a lot. Annoyed was a feeling she had plenty of experience dealing with. What she felt for Loreto now, so close, so strong, so hot, felt much more like obsession.
“Qué pasa, Rubia?” Loreto asked softly, causing Simone to flinch.
“Will you stop calling me that?” Simone turned and pretended to check her makeup in the mirror.
“No.”
“Why?”
Loreto pressed up lightly against her back, causing Simone to meet the dark eyes reflected in the mirror. “Because I love the way it drives you crazy.”
They stared at each other in the mirror for several heavy seconds before Loreto opened her mouth again, but her next comment was smothered by Simone’s mouth pressing hungrily against her own.
The force of their collision threw them two stumbled steps across the room until Loreto backed into the bathroom wall, but she returned the kiss fiercely.
She grabbed two handfuls of Simone’s ass and lifted her onto the edge of the sink as their tongues wrestled for control of the other’s mouth.
Animal instinct took hold, seemingly of them both. Simone lost her sense of place and time. Her hands were under Loreto’s shirt. She raked over smooth flesh and slipped her fingertips along the base of Loreto’s bra. She loved the sensation of softness yielding within the tight confines. As she pushed the obstruction up and out of the way, without taking the time to remove it fully, her fingertips zeroed in on Simone’s nipples, hard and waiting to be lavished with attention. As she rolled one between her fingers, Loreto’s head rolled back, exposing her neck for Simone to nip and suck. Reveling in her abandon, she ran her tongue from Loreto’s proud collarbone to her earlobe and bit down lightly, while simultaneously cupping both her breasts.
Loreto wasn’t one to remain passive long, though, and in a desire to assert herself, she placed both hands on Simone’s knees and pushed them apart. The possessiveness in the move made Simone squirm on the edge of the sink, which caused her skirt to ride up her legs. Loreto glanced down at the exposed skin of her thighs and made a noise somewhere between a groan and growl. Loreto pushed her delicious hips between Simone’s splayed legs and rocked forward.
Simone freed one hand and, snagging a belt loop on Loreto’s khakis, pinned their bodies tight enough to grind into her. They rocked like that, panting, kissing, clutching, until the friction nearly sent Simone over the edge, but before she had a chance to orgasm like two teenagers making out in their parent’s basement, Loreto pulled back.
“No.” Simone gasped and clutched at the front of Loreto’s shirt. “I’m not done with you.”
Twisting the thin cotton in her fist, she jerked them back together, but as their mouths met again, it became apparent Loreto had used their time apart to position one hand between Simone’s legs. She roughly pushed aside the thin strip of lace left between them, and Simone’s breath caught as cool air hit the wet heat of her need. Loreto wasted no time covering her again and pressed one finger, then two inside her all the way until her palm cupped Simone fully.
Then she stilled and, leaning closely enough to Simone’s ear that her hot breath ran down the curve of her neck, whispered, “Move against me.”
It wasn’t a request, but Simone’s natural tendency toward defiance had left her the minute she’d seen those dark eyes in the mirror behind her. She wouldn’t deny what she wanted simply because Loreto wanted it, too.
Rocking her hips forward on the edge of the sink, she wrapped her legs around Loreto’s waist, holding their bodies together as they ground against each other. The friction between them was excruciatingly beautiful as every muscle and sinew screamed toward climax. She had no inclination to slow down or stop. She had no inclination toward thinking or even breathing at the moment. Her entire brain and body craved only Loreto, deeper, harder, faster, until, like the dance they’d witnessed earlier, they soared, peaked, and then crashed to a halt.
Chapter Eleven
Loreto eased Simone down off the sink, but given the way her legs wobbled, she should have left her up there a bit longer.
“I can’t feel any of my extremities,” Simone admitted as she braced herself against Loreto’s shoulders. “My feet aren’t working.”
“It’s okay. My brain isn’t working.”
“Obviously,” Simone said, but the hint of humor had returned to her voice.
“Are we going to chalk this little escapade up to misfiring synapses, then?” Loreto asked, not at all sure what she wanted the answer to be.
“That would be nice, but thanks to your little tirade out there, I think we’re past the point where we can lie to ourselves or each other. We’re all—how did you put it?—consenting adults.” Her eyes went wide. “You consented to that, right?”
“Yes, I mean, I would’ve said so, but your tongue was in my mouth. I sort of hoped the part where I lifted you onto the sink and pushed your legs apart made my wishes known.”
Simone gave her a wry smile and turned back to check her makeup in the mirror. “Glad I read that correctly.”
“It’s not what I came in here intending to do,” Loreto said truthfully.
“Me neither.” Simone straightened her hair. “But I think we might need to acknowledge that anytime we’re alone together, there’s a distinct possibility we might end up in this position.”
“Or any number of pleasurable positions.”
Simone reached up and smoothed a strand of Loreto’s hair, then kissed her on the mouth. “That, too, because as much as I’d like to say we’ve gotten whatever that was out of our systems, I’m a realist.”
“I don’t know if I’m a realist or an optimist, but I am human, and as long as I’ve got a pulse, what just happened here will rev it up.”
Simone nodded and unlatched the lock. As the door swung open, they found a short line had formed. Simone smiled politely at everyone waiting, and without even a hint of visible embarrassment, she strode back out into the restaurant, seemingly unfazed, both by what they’d done and the fact that several people around them clearly knew it.
Following in her wake, Loreto couldn’t help being a little in awe of her. Not many women could have body-quaking sex in a bathroom and then stroll back out into a crowded venue with grace and poise and a complete lack of fucks for anyone who might judge her. She found the quality impressive and attractive, and she intended to say so as soon as they settled up the bill. But as they climbed the stairs back to street level, she barely had time to inhale her first breath of fresh, night air before Simone’s phone rang.
They both startled at the sound, a rude reminder the world existed in places and with people outside what had occurred between them tonight.
Simone checked the screen and her brow creased immediately.
“A problem?” Loreto asked.
“My boss.”
She couldn’t tell from her tone if that was a yes or no to her question, so she stated the obvious. “It’s midnight.”
“Not in New York,” Simone said. She lifted the phone to her ear and turned her back to Loreto. “Hello, Mr. Alston.”
Loreto could hear a man’s voice on the other end of the line, but she couldn’t make out his words, only Simone’s answers.
“Yes, sir. Not at all, I’m still wide awake and . . . working.”
Loreto didn’t know whether to laugh or grimace at that assertion, probably because she didn’t know if it was an alibi or the truth.
Loreto leaned casually against the building and watched Simone pace up and down the sidewalk in front of her.
“Yes, very solid progress, I think. I actually spent the afternoon reading one of the books, or rather having it translated aloud for me.” Simone shot a little half smile at Loreto. “Yes, I thought it worthwhile as well.”
Loreto grinned and stared up at the night sky. Worthwhile. That was one way to put it.
“No, total agreement. We have to land him.”
Loreto could hear the man on the other end of the phone say something then laugh loudly.
Simone winced. “I think my assessment of the work would’ve gone a little deeper.”
Loreto arched an eyebrow, and Simone stopped to look at her, blue eyes serious as they ran up and down her body.
“No, I don’t disagree with the idea, but I wouldn’t have used the term,” she cleared her throat,“‘sex on a stick,’ to describe such a nuanced work.”
Loreto did a poor job of hiding her amusement at Simone’s discomfort.
“Right, sexuality is not a bad thing. You’ve met me, Henry. I’m no prude. I just don’t think that’s the best angle to pursue in these negotiations.”
She stopped pacing for a long minute, her brow furrowed, her lips pursed, and Loreto wondered what this Henry guy was saying on the other end. She shouldn’t care. She didn’t have any business in Simone’s business, and she shouldn’t have any opinion on the way Simone’s entire demeanor had changed from the time they’d left the restaurant to now, but they were supposed to be off the clock. Simone had said so herself. But this little intrusion offered a major reminder that Simone was never off the clock. Her entire time here in Spain was her job. Hell, Simone herself was her job. The longer she stayed on the phone listening to whatever directive she was accepting, the lower Loreto’s heart sank.
