Never Again: a second chance romance (Quicksand Book 3) Page 6

  Carlos cupped Carmen’s face in his hands. She hadn’t bothered with make-up today. Nude lips and bright eyes sucked him in and twisted the knife of longing that would surely remain stuck in the middle of his chest for a very lengthy period.

  “I’m so glad we ran into each other again. This is just the beginning, okay?” he said.

  “Don’t disappear on me.” She said the words as a joke, but he didn’t miss the underlying worry in her gaze.

  “I love you. You messed up letting me back into your life. I’m not going anywhere.”

  That made her smile, exactly what he was going for.

  “Love you,” she whispered.

  He placed a quick, gentle kiss on her lips, though he wanted to hold her tight and kiss her hard and long. “Bye, mi amor.”

  “Bye, mi corazón.” With her hand still in his, Carmen climbed into the back of the vehicle.

  Carlos stole another quick kiss and forcibly made himself step back and let her go. He shut the door, and Franklin pulled away from the curb. His stomach pitched low as he watched them leave. He waved and she waved from the back.

  He missed her already.

  9

  Carlos swung his legs over the side of the gray sofa and yawned. Sofia lay snoozing on the windowsill and watched him between slits for eyes.

  Miraculously, his afternoon nap, expected to be only an hour or so, had lasted several hours. That was good, because his rest had been spotty at best since Carmen left a week ago. Her face plagued his dreams, and the emptiness inside him wouldn’t go away. This miserable state was nothing new. After he moved from Toronto, thoughts of her used to mess with his sleep, fueled by regret and guilt and the very real knowledge that he’d lost the love of his life.

  With the sun long gone, shadows filled the apartment, broken up by the street lights outside the windows. He trudged wearily into the bathroom, washed his face, and took a leak before going to the kitchen. Restless and not knowing what to do with himself, he stood in front of the refrigerator and stared at the contents.

  Water. He’d have a drink of water.

  He poured some from a pitcher and drained half the glass. Then he dragged over to the corner to his bed and climbed under the sheets.

  He hadn’t expected Carmen to be back in his life, but now that she was, he wanted more dinners, more walks to the market, more television watching, and more of her in his bed. More of her breath brushing his arm as she slept and more of her bright smile lighting up the dark corners of his lonely, empty heart.

  Carlos grunted and twisted restlessly. He punched the pillow and resettled on his side. “Come on, sleep. Help me out.”

  But sleep didn’t come. Instead, more thoughts of Carmen and the distance between them filled his head, yet he couldn’t help but smile as he remembered her in the kitchen, humming and fixing coffee. Her walking around in a pair of shorts and a tank, showing off her toned legs and arms and looking so damn sexy she distracted him from work. Her climbing on top of him in the middle of the night, one hand braced on his chest, the other cupping her own breast as she rode him to ecstasy.

  His dick swelled as his loins filled with an uncomfortable heaviness that he’d have to relieve if he wanted to get back to sleep tonight. He thought about Carmen’s soft lips and her soft skin and her soft hair and the alluring scent of roses and groaned.

  Carlos rolled over and pulled out a bottle of cheap lotion he kept in the drawer of the table by the bed and squirted a good portion into his palm. He stuck a hand down the front of his pants and covered his semi-erect penis, then closed his eyes and tightened his fingers around his hardening flesh.

  His imagination took control then, projecting an image of Carmen’s head cocked back, her throat arched in a blatant invitation to his tongue. As he envisioned licking her skin, he squeezed and massaged his stiff erection to get closer to relief.

  Impatiently, Carlos shoved the waistband of his boxers lower around his hips to get himself better in hand, but he didn’t rush. No need to rush. He wasn’t a teen hiding in the bathroom, engaging in an act that had to be completed quickly and furtively before anyone burst in and caught him.

  Closing his eyes, he moved his hand slowly, savoring the moment. His quick shallow breaths filled the air. Using his thumb, he rubbed the sensitive tip and imagined Carmen’s hand—

  The phone vibrated on the nightstand, and his eyes popped open as he was yanked from his fantasy.

  Goddammit. He slammed his hand on the device and glared at the screen.

  It was Carmen. The anger disappeared.

  He accepted her request to FaceTime. “Hey.”

  “Hi.”

  Her soft voice made his loins ache even more. Like him, she was in bed, propped up against a multitude of pillows on pastel-striped sheets. She wore a paisley silk head wrap, and he saw the thin straps of a yellow pajama top.

  Carlos normalized his breathing. “You okay?”

  “I had a long day.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  And she did, telling him about work, the phone calls she’d had to make, her nerves when she had to chastise someone but knowing it was a necessary evil of being one of the people in charge.

  “Is the work getting easier?”

  “Yes and no. Some days are easier than others, but that’s part of this whole exercise of immersing myself in the company. I have to learn until all of the decision-making and daily tasks become second nature, so I’m assimilating.”

  “You look tired, mi amor.”

  “I am, a little. But I didn’t want to go to bed without talking to you first.”

  Carlos smiled. “I’m glad you called, because I was thinking about you.”

  “You were? What were you thinking?”

  “About how glad I am that we reconnected. About how much I miss you.”

  “I’m glad we reconnected, too.” She briefly closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, her languid expression reminded him of how she always looked when she was…horny.

  Noting the odd movement of her right arm, he asked, “Are you touching yourself?”

  Carmen’s brown eyes looked right into his. “Yes.”

  “Why?” he asked in a hushed whisper, barely able to get the word out.

  “I miss you. And you know I love the sound of your voice.”

  He could barely breathe now, he wanted her so bad. “Carmen, you can’t do that.” Knowing that she pleasured herself merely because they were talking would slowly drive him insane. “Carmen.” He wanted to sound stern, but he sounded weak as hell. Because she made him weak, and he badly wanted to join her in self-stimulation.

  “I can’t stop.”

  She moaned, and that was his undoing. His hand returned to his penis, which had softened during their conversation because he’d done the right thing by listening as she talked. But she’d suddenly changed the rules, and he gladly returned to the moments before she called.

  “Carlos,” she whispered, her voice sounding pained with longing.

  Once again, he stiffened under the clasp of his own hand. This time, though, he had the benefit of seeing Carmen live, hearing her voice, and watching her reactions.

  “Pull your top down,” he said huskily. “I want to see your breasts.”

  Without a word, she put down the iPad and he heard rustling. Still on her back, she bent one knee and propped the tablet against her thigh. She’d done as he asked, and he had a clear view from her waist to the top of her covered head.

  He watched as she rubbed a hand across breasts and played with the dark nipples. They were swollen and erect, and the need to suck one into his mouth pounded through him like the relentless beating of a drum.

  Precum leaked from his shaft, and he swirled the liquid around the sensitive tip as sexual tension tightened his stomach muscles and made his balls ache. Watching her was the best kind of torture. He could see but not touch.

  He moved restlessly, hips lifting off the bed with a regular rhythm as he rubbed a
nd squeezed, watching the love of his life getting off a thousand miles away. Touching herself. Moaning and biting her bottom lip.

  “I’m right there with you, mi amor. Do you feel me? Do you feel my hands between your legs?’

  “Yes.” Her eyes shuttered closed.

  “You’re so wet, Carmen. You’re so wet, I want to taste. Let me slide my tongue over your clit. Let me taste.”

  “Yes. Please taste.” She moaned, and her head flipped from side to side.

  “Spread your legs and let me taste.”

  She took a sharp breath, and when she opened her legs wider, the tablet fell sideways onto the mattress, giving him a lopsided view of her half-naked body.

  “Squeeze your breasts,” Carlos whispered.

  She roughly squeezed her breasts with a hand that he wished belonged to him.

  She turned onto her side, her full breasts filling the screen, and he automatically drew the phone closer to his face in an immediate response to get one of the swollen nubs into his mouth. He stopped mere inches from the phone and groaned in annoyance. He was damn near ready to lick the glass.

  She made beautifully sensuous noises that filled his ears as she used one hand to massage the soft flesh and the other to stroke between her thighs.

  “I want you to come.” Carlos swore as he listened to her pant and whimper.

  He picked up speed, moving his hand with urgency up and down his hard shaft. “I won’t stop until you come. My lips are on your breasts, my hand between your legs. I won’t stop stroking or kissing you until you come.”

  “I’m coming…Carlos.”

  Her climactic cry was stifled in the pillows, and he came, too, with a loud grunt and shudder. He gripped the pillow as cum squirted between his fingers onto the sheet. Groaning, he let out a shuddering breath that immediately released the tension in his muscles, causing him to collapse onto the mattress with a satisfied sigh of frustration. He’d finally released the sexual tension, but he remained frustrated because he would have preferred to come buried inside of Carmen.

  If she were here, he could squeeze her in his arms and breathe the scent of her skin as he buried his face into her damp neck.

  Damn.

  Carlos wiped his hand on the sheet and rolled out of the damp spot. He’d clean up later.

  He found his phone buried in the linens near the foot of the bed where he must have flung it in the midst of his orgasmic rush.

  “Carmen.”

  With a little moan, she stretched and reset the iPad so he could see her face. In the frenzied chase toward ecstasy, she’d lost the silk covering from her head and revealed her hair, which fell across her brow and covered one eye.

  “Thank you,” she said with a sleepy, satisfied smile. She looked like a woman who’d just had some good sex.

  He laughed softly. Sweet yet so carnally uninhibited, Carmen was a seductive combination that he could never resist. What man in his right mind could?

  “Thank you,” he said, swiping his thumb where her mouth was, wishing he could actually touch her instead of the hard glass.

  She settled onto her side. “I’m coming to see you in two weeks.”

  “Isn’t that too soon? How will you arrange that?”

  “I’ll figure it out.”

  “Carmen, I don’t want you to have problems with your family because of me.”

  She was impulsive and tended to act on her feelings. On a good day, he loved that about her. On a bad day, her behavior was problematic because issues could arise if she didn’t sort out the repercussions of her actions.

  “I won’t. It’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

  “I can’t help but worry. You were my everything before, and you’re my everything again. I don’t want to risk losing you.”

  “You didn’t have to lose me the first time, and you definitely won’t lose me again. I’m yours for as long as you want me, Carlos.”

  He really didn’t deserve such love and devotion. “What if I want you forever?”

  “Then I’m yours. Forever.” A beatific smile came to her face. “I better go to sleep. Good night, mi corazón.”

  “Good night, mi amor.”

  10

  Carmen pulled into the circular driveway of her parents’ house, a mansion inside a gated community that rested on plenty of land in an exclusive neighborhood with excellent schools, such as the private school her brother and sister attended.

  She parked her silver Range Rover, a tricked-out vehicle she received for her twenty-fifth birthday, one she’d appreciated at the time but now seemed ostentatious. Keeping in touch with Carlos made her more aware of the excesses in her life, and though he never gave any indication that he judged her, she often wondered what he thought about her lavish lifestyle.

  Don’t call.

  She physically ached to hear his voice, but since her return to Toronto, they’d talked every day—sometimes twice—once in the morning and again at night. She hadn’t heard from him today and knew he’d be busy tonight getting ready for an art show. She wished she could be there to support him, but she’d simply have to be patient and wait until tomorrow to hear his voice and find out how the event went.

  Carmen entered her parents’ house. She’d moved out months after Carlos left Toronto, leaving behind her mother, father, and two younger siblings to finally live on her own. It had been scary at first but a necessity, a move she was glad she’d made for the sake of privacy as well as an opportunity to establish her own independence.

  Her siblings were hanging out with friends this weekend, but Carmen knew her parents were at home because she’d called ahead. Since it was dinner time, Graciela was more than likely in the kitchen cooking, a task she took great pride in and a trait she’d passed down to Carmen.

  As Carmen neared the kitchen, the sound of furtive whispering made her pause outside the door.

  “She’s doing very well now, isn’t she?” Graciela asked in her accented voice. She’d lived in Toronto for many years, but her Cuban accent remained so thick some people had a hard time understanding her.

  “Yes, I’m proud of her,” her father replied in an equally low tone.

  “Then you have to tell her. She’s come a long way. You both have, to get to this point. She wants to make you proud.”

  Her father grunted.

  “Alfred,” Graciela said in a disapproving tone. Carmen imagined her mother placing a pacifying hand on his arm before returning to the task at hand.

  “And how did that happen? Because that Carlos fellow is out of her life for good. Good riddance.”

  Graciela tutted. “Be nice.”

  “There was nothing nice about that kid. He wasn’t good enough for Carmen, just like that other loser she dated. Remember that guy, who had her spending money on him like she was some kind of sugar mama? I’m glad she finally came to her senses—on both counts—and look at her now. You’re right, she’s doing a great job at the office. The staff respects her, and she’s shown me and management that she can take her time and make sound decisions—not be impulsive.”

  “Why do you keep saying she’s impulsive?”

  “Because she is.”

  “What you call impulsive, I call passionate, papi.”

  “Passionate, sure. She let that guy get in her head. She planned to leave us—leave her legacy behind. If that’s not impulsive, I don’t know what is.”

  “Why are you like this?”

  “Like what? You know I’m right.”

  “She was young and in love. You remember what that was like?”

  “Remember? Of course. Now I’m an old man in love.” Her father muttered words Carmen couldn’t understand, but her mother did because she gasped his name and then gave a low chuckle.

  That was the perfect time to enter the room. When she did, Carmen found her parents smooching—her mother standing before the cutting board with a knife in her hand, and her father standing beside her with a hand resting on her ass.

  “Hey, tone
it down, you guys,” Carmen joked, though the sight of them being affectionate filled her with sadness.

  She’d always seen their open affection for each other growing up and viewed them as the ideal couple—an ideal she wanted for herself. She wanted a spouse who would love her hard and sacrifice the way her parents had sacrificed for each other. They were the standard.

  Graciela put down the knife. “Hola, mija! It’s so good to see you.” She pulled Carmen into a hug and when she let go, looked her up and down.

  Carmen might as well be looking in a mirror. People often teasingly called them twins. In addition to having the same deep brown complexion, Carmen had inherited her mother’s petite frame, full nose, and generous lips. Graciela currently wore her kinky hair straight, parted in the middle, and secured from her face.

  “Have you lost weight?”

  Carmen pursed her lips. “No, Mommy, I haven’t. How was your trip?”

  “You might have. You’ve been exercising a lot lately.” Alfred popped an olive into his mouth.

  “You don’t need to exercise,” Graciela said, frowning.

  “I’m not doing it to lose weight. I only want to tone a little bit. See my muscles?” Carmen flexed her biceps, and her mother raised her eyebrows.

  “Very nice.”

  “Thank you. So, how was your trip?”

  When she had returned from Atlanta, her mother was still in Cuba visiting family and had only come back the day before.

  “Tata wishes you had come with me and wants to know when you’re going to make her a great-grandmother.”

  “When she’s married,” her father interjected.

  Graciela muttered under her breath, shaking her head, and Carmen smiled.

  At six two, Alfred’s presence dominated the room with a fit body that hadn’t softened much over the decades since he’d played professional baseball. He played in the majors for a couple of years but was cut from the Atlanta Braves and never picked up again.