Spanish Surrender, page 25
Leaning close enough to fill her lungs with the scent of her bathed in incense and orange blossoms, Loreto whispered a response to them both. “Not yet.”
Taking her hand, Loreto led them back along the balcony and down the stairs, but instead of heading toward the warm pool, she turned under a large, Moorish arch and into a smaller cavern with a low, rounded roof and a hexagonal pool that shimmered with tendrils of steam.
“What fresh Shangri-La is this?” Simone turned slowly, her gaze sweeping the circular room as she surveyed the intricate tile patterns lining the thick columns.
“This is the hot bath.”
“Yeah, it is,” Simone said, her eyes falling on a dimly lit doorway opened to reveal a smaller room, big enough only to house a long, low, marble pedestal.
“It’s a cooling table,” Loreto offered. “It’s going to feel amazing against your bare skin after you get overheated.”
“What makes you think I’ll get overheated?”
Loreto met her eyes for as long as she dared before winking and heading toward the pool. “Don’t lose faith in me now.”
She eased into the water via the stairs, her body relishing the heat on her already languid muscles. She felt like she was melting into the water as much as moving through it.
“Oh, yes,” Simone groaned, stepping in gingerly behind her. “Please and thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Loreto said, lowering herself fully and holding still long enough to acclimate herself to the temperature, which hovered somewhere just above a well-heated hot tub. She hadn’t thought she could possibly relax any more than she had on the massage table, but she settled into one of the corners of the pool and spread her arms out along the outside. She nodded for Simone to join her, and then held her breath slightly as she realized what she’d done. For the second time that day, she’d invited a strong, self-assured woman into her embrace, only this time, Simone wasn’t hurt or scared. Would she still welcome Loreto’s tenderness now that she didn’t need it?
Mercifully, Simone didn’t make her wait long before sliding over to nestle herself into the crook of her arm, resting her back against Loreto’s side. Rolling her head onto Loreto’s shoulder, she asked, “How long can we stay in here before we liquefy and float away?”
“I don’t know, but let’s try to find out.”
“Deal.” A moment later, Simone said, “Five days ago, nothing would’ve scared me more than the thought of melting and floating away.”
“And now?”
“Less so. At least, in this moment.”
“What terrifies you in this moment?”
Simone shrugged. “Nothing.”
Loreto’s heart swelled with pride at having helped to provide a few worry-free moments. She didn’t delude herself into thinking they could last for long, but no matter what happened later, she would always know she’d done something for Simone that few others had been able to do.
She lifted her hand and ran her fingers down Simone’s arm from the water up to her shoulder, then back again. Her skin was soft and smooth. She wanted to take her time kissing as much of it as she could. She wanted to look her in the eyes as she slipped inside. She wanted to hold her after their passion had slipped into sleep. She wanted to see her in the early morning light. She wanted to know her at every time of day, in every mood and every situation. She knew Simone wasn’t likely to accept overtures of a deeper nature, but she also knew that wouldn’t stop her from wanting to offer them.
The thought scared her. Apparently, she didn’t have Simone’s ability to grow weightless and worry-free, no matter how soothing the water or how low the light. She’d always seen clearly how this would end. The worlds between them were too large to even contemplate, much less conquer, and even if they weren’t, she’d known from the first kiss that their time together was finite. Still, she hadn’t quite expected the ticking time clock to matter so much.
She wrapped her arm around Simone’s chest, pulling her close, and kissed the top of her head, then her temple, then, breathing in her steamy citrus scent, she kissed her neck.
The physical sensations grounded her more than her mental musing did, and her body came awake once more. Her lips reached the corner of Simone’s mouth, and she turned toward her, seeking more. The kiss was slower but no less passionate than the ones before. Where the others incinerated in an instant, this one caused the heat to spread, consuming steadily as it branched out in tendrils. Seeking more, Loreto lowered her other hand to Simone’s waist and easily lifted her. In the warmth of the water and the strength of her desire, it took little effort to reposition Simone on her lap, her long legs stretched out along the bench beside them.
Simone melded against her, kissing her in a slow, languid rhythm. She took her time, sucking at Loreto’s lower lip, tracing her tongue into the corners of her smile. She parted her lips and invited Loreto in, not escalating the pace or the pressure, but opening herself to whatever path they took. And sweet heaven, what a path. Loreto had such extravagant access to Simone’s body. With one hand, she reached up and tugged the tie on Simone’s bikini, and with the other, she pulled the suit off. Then, with both hands free and a beautiful expanse of skin before her, Loreto set about touching as much of it as she could, as leisurely as she could.
Reveling in the time they’d never allowed themselves before, she stroked and massaged and traced Simone’s spine, her side, her stomach, before easing up to cup her breasts. She memorized the weight of them in her palms, the taut skin, the way Simone shifted against her lap as she tested and teased. All the while, they continued to kiss, as if the only air in the room had to be sipped from the other’s lips.
She didn’t know how long she spent exploring Simone’s upper body before she gradually drifted downward. Tugging the two little strings at each of Simone’s hips, she finally beat the barrier that had taunted her the day before, but any sense of victory was tempered by wonder at the body now fully revealed, shimmering and submerged in the clear water. Had she ever taken the time to fully see it, to soak it in and imprint it on her memory? How many opportunities had she missed? She didn’t want to make the same mistake again. She didn’t want to view this woman through a filter any longer.
“Come on,” she whispered, standing up slowly and holding Simone upright long enough to let her adjust to the shift.
Simone whimpered at the withdrawal, but her alabaster skin flushed pink from the combination of several kinds of heat, reminding Loreto of her earlier promise. They crossed the pool, fingers interlaced, and climbed the steps on the other side before Loreto pulled her close and joined their mouths together once more.
Picking up where they’d left off, she pressed as much of her skin as she could to Simone’s as she slowly walked her back to the marble slab behind them. Cradling Simone fully in her arms, she gently lowered them both down.
Simone gasped as the cold stone grazed her skin, and Loreto felt goose bumps prick both their flesh, but the initial shock quickly gave way to heightened receptors. Every place their hot bodies collided with each other, the heat between them continued to scorch, and in every place they didn’t, coolness began to soothe. It might have been a metaphor or a larger life lesson, but she couldn’t process anything outside Simone’s body cradled in her arms.
“No one’s ever put me on a pedestal before.” Simone nipped at her ear.
“You deserve it,” Loreto said, easing back to look down at her. “You’re a work of art.”
She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw Simone’s blue eyes shimmer before she pulled Loreto’s head back down to continue the kiss. With that, they were off again, dancing back into territory she’d covered before, but this time allowing herself the luxury of exploring fully.
Simone reached up and stroked Loreto’s face, cupping her jaw in her hand and massaging her fingers into the back of her neck, increasing her pressure as Loreto’s hands did some massaging of their own. She caressed, gradually lower, in a meandering path that encompassed breasts, stomach, thighs, the curve of her waist, but not necessarily in that order, and never just once. She couldn’t bring herself to focus on any one piece of perfection for too long with so many to choose from. Until Simone let her legs fall apart and pushed her hips off the pedestal in an unspoken request no one could misunderstand.
Loreto obliged immediately, dizzy with arousal and a sense of honor as Simone once again opened herself up for her. As Loreto dipped her fingers into wetness that didn’t stem from the water or the steam around them, she marveled at how movements so similar to ones she’d made each of the last few nights could feel so different.
She set about slow-circling the center of Simone’s need, not teasing or toying so much as easing and appreciating. Simone, for her part, accepted the pace, moving her hips in time to the rhythm Loreto set, without pushing back or attempting to escalate. The passion of their previous encounters had only grown, but gone was the race, the game, the competition, leaving space for appreciation, and even awe, as their slick bodies melded together.
Breaths grew short, then sharp, between them. Simone broke their kiss with a gasp but kept Loreto’s head bowed close by tightening her fingers in the hair at the base of her neck.
“Yes,” she moaned.
“Yes,” Loreto echoed in her ear and picked up both her speed and pressure.
“You feel so good.” Simone panted. Then her eyes opened, bright and blue and vulnerable in ways they’d never made her seem before. “You are so good.”
Loreto’s stomach clenched with so much more than lust, and she fought the urge to look away from the piercing gaze. It wasn’t that she was no longer afraid of what Simone would see in her. She was simply more afraid to miss a moment of this connection between them. So she stood firm, holding Simone close, eyes locked as they built toward climax. Loreto watched the tension play across her features as she neared release, watched her eyes gleam, then cloud, as dark pupils expanded and azure turned to sapphire before her eyelids grew heavy and closed.
As her body tensed, every muscle contracting in the grip of pleasure, Simone’s eyes flashed open, brilliant, clear, and so intensely focused, Loreto forgot to breathe as the shakes and shivers running through Simone’s body reverberated through her own.
Slowly, muscles went slack, heartbeats decelerated, and breaths grew deeper, but neither one of them moved. They stayed there, tightly connected, both physically and visually, long past the time when the aftershocks subsided. The realization of what they’d done settled somewhere deep in Loreto’s core.
Despite all her attempts to anchor them with a return to the physical sexuality that had offered balance time and time again, tonight she hadn’t been able to lose herself in lust. She hadn’t been able to blur her emotions with sex. They hadn’t even had sex. They’d made love.
Simone lay on the marble pedestal trying desperately to use the cool stone as some sort of physical anchor. She wanted to stay firmly tethered to the external, but as everything moved more slowly and the blood returned to her brain, she had both the time and ability to think. She didn’t want to think. She wanted only to feel. Then again, she’d done plenty of that, only she hadn’t felt the things she’d expected, or she had, but she’d also felt the unexpected. Things she’d never felt before and certainly didn’t want to put a name on.
Loreto kissed her forehead, softly, then her temple, then her cheek as she gently lowered them into a more relaxed position, Simone using Loreto’s arm as a pillow against the hard stone.
Simone was taken aback by the tenderness of it all. She’d had plenty of sex with plenty of women over the years, but she couldn’t remember a single time any one of them had taken the time or the effort to put their own body between her and such a slight discomfort. The thought touched her in ways even Loreto’s skill hadn’t, and she snuggled in closer, inclining her head to Loreto’s chest.
“Thank you,” she murmured against warm, smooth skin.
“Thank you,” Loreto said, her voice thick and low.
She should say something more, something to convey the gravity of the moment, or to temper it. Instead, she pulled Loreto’s other arm more tightly around her waist so that magnificent body angled more fully across her own. But as they settled in, a little flash of white caught Simone’s attention.
Squinting, she looked closer to inspect a thin, raised scar a little wider and a little longer than the one she’d noticed the other night. This time the urge to ask was stronger than passing curiosity. She wanted to know what had dared to mar such perfect skin. She wanted to know if the wound had hurt Loreto. She wanted to know what or who had offered her comfort. She wanted to know Loreto.
The desire scared her, and yet so did the prospect of not having it fulfilled.
Lifting a finger shakily, she ran it down the length of the scar and back up again. “What happened here?”
Loreto didn’t look at where Simone pointed. “A cut. A long time ago.”
“From what?”
She sighed as if tired, but her heartbeat gave her away. Simone could feel it beating all the way through Loreto’s chest and into her own.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want. I don’t want to upset you.”
Loreto shook her head. “It’s nothing. I slipped . . . while climbing a fence . . . the barbed wire cut me.”
“Barbed wire,” Simone repeated, trying not to form a mental image of what that might have looked like. “I hope whatever lay on the other side of the fence was worth it.”
She felt Loreto’s smile against her forehead. “It was.”
Then she waited, silently, patiently for an explanation that didn’t come.
A week ago, that wouldn’t have bothered her. Yesterday, she wouldn’t have admitted that bothered her. Today, she’d progressed past both of those stages, but she still didn’t know what to do about it.
Closing her eyes once more, she forced herself to sit in the not knowing, to let the uncertainty wash over her. Despite what had transpired between them over the last few days, she wasn’t impulsive. She listened to the facts. She paid attention to her intuition. She trusted herself to know what she needed in any given situation, if only she gave herself enough time and the right opportunities to figure out what that entailed. Why had she fought those instincts where Loreto was concerned? What had she been so afraid of?
It had seemed so important at the time, but here, now, in her arms, safe and sated in such a perfect place, she couldn’t seem to remember what it was. Perhaps it was clarity, or maybe oblivion, but suddenly the answer seemed so obvious she had no choice but to give it voice.
“Stay with me tonight.” Then, without the slightest twinge of displeasure, she added, “Please?”
Chapter Fourteen
“Oh my . . . something,” Simone moaned as she bit into the chocolate-drenched churro. She snapped her fingers at Loreto. “Come on. Give me a word, or some sort of Spanish exclamation to describe this heaven in my mouth.”
“Madre de Dios?” Loreto asked with a laugh.
“Yes. Madre de Dios. Mother of God and all things holy, thank you for this bread and oil and molten bars of real chocolate, amen.”
“You didn’t really grow up religious, did you?” Loreto asked.
Simone shrugged. “My grandma went to church. They didn’t have churros there.”
Loreto shook her head slowly but found it hard to see blasphemy in anything so beautifully joyous.
“Wait, are you religious?” Simone asked, her eyebrows high under the blond hair she wore down this morning. It was about the fifth personal question that had seemed to pop into her head and right out of her mouth since they’d woken up together this morning, each one delving a little deeper than the previous. So far, Loreto had provided true but short answers. Have you always been a big reader? Yes. What was your first job? Babysitting. What age did you come out? Sixteen. Do you plan to stay in Spain indefinitely? I don’t make a lot of plans. Now she had to consider her relationship to God. It was a lot, really, and if anyone else had asked, she would have found a way to get away. Hell, if Simone had asked even yesterday, she may have bolted, but yesterday she hadn’t awoken with Simone in her arms. She hadn’t snuggled closer to feel her warmth or breathed deeply to memorize the scent of her.
“I grew up Catholic,” Loreto finally said. It would’ve likely been enough, but for some reason, she added, “I don’t really go to Mass anymore because of my schedule and other hobbies, but I don’t know, things got complicated.”
Simone smirked. “Was it those ‘other hobbies’ that complicated things for you?”
Loreto got the gist, and part of her wanted to explain it wasn’t her sexual orientation or escapades that got in the way of her faith, but she figured it was easier to let Simone make her assumptions. “Something like that.”
Simone didn’t seem to find anything off about the nonanswer as she took another bite of her churro. “Seriously, why didn’t you force one of these on me when we were here a week ago?”
Loreto shook her head. “Can you even imagine? You’d nearly fired me for simply walking you down a street you didn’t like the night before.”
“I did not,” Simone said, then smiled. “Maybe I did. It’s all fuzzy now. I hardly even feel like the same person I was when we sat here then.”
Loreto didn’t argue that point as she watched Simone look around the little cobblestone courtyard. It was as if she were seeing the palm trees and balconies for the first time. Maybe she was. Even if she wasn’t exactly a different person now, she’d certainly removed the blinders of privilege and productivity she’d worn then. The real question was whether she’d put them back when she remembered that her big meeting was only twenty-four hours away. Loreto found herself both bracing for that moment and trying to make the most of whatever time they had left.
