Private Acts Read online

  The muscles of her abdomen tensed, quivered, waited for the brush of his lips. He didn’t disappoint. When his mouth touched the sensitive skin between her legs, she let out a wail of pleasure. She spread her legs to take what he offered, fisting her hands in his hair and tossing her head from side to side. He didn’t stop until spasms rocked her body.

  * * * *

  After they made love, Samirah nestled in his arms, and her eyes drifted closed. He cared deeply for her. She practically floated when she realized it would only be a matter of time before he asked her to stay.

  Her impulsive behavior wasn’t a mistake this time.

  Chapter Twelve

  The trip to the Galapagos Islands excited Samirah. Visiting them had not been part of her original plan, but she was glad to have the opportunity, and even more so to share it with Miguel.

  Part of Ecuador, they were a chain of volcanic islands situated over five hundred miles off the coast. In the early 1800s, Charles Darwin had stayed there, and his observations contributed to his theory of evolution and natural selection. Because they were a strictly protected national park, the islands maintained their natural ecosystem. Animals there evolved without natural predators, so they weren’t afraid of humans.

  At Samirah’s suggestion, Miguel offered the Hills the bribe of a small Delgado original sculpture, and they agreed to allow Samirah five days off. Two weeks later, when they got ready to leave for their trip, Geneva was getting around better anyway, using a cane instead of a walker, so Samirah didn’t feel any guilt about leaving.

  She and Miguel flew from Cuenca to Guayaquil and landed on Baltra Island where they then took a ferry to the first stop, Santa Cruz Island. After half a day of traveling, they took an open-air bus to their seaside lodging. Their small, secluded hotel contained less than fifteen rooms. It was steps away from the beach and within walking distance of the main town.

  In the lobby, they met a couple from France celebrating their tenth anniversary with a return to the place where they’d spent their honeymoon.

  “How romantic,” Samirah said.

  “Yes, sometimes he is,” the woman, Jeanne, said dryly.

  Her husband, Luc, seemed oblivious to her tart reply. “How long will you be on the island?” he asked.

  “Three nights,” Miguel replied. “On Monday we leave for Isabela. We’ll stay there two nights and then we head back to the mainland.”

  “Oh, but you need at least a week,” Jeanne said sorrowfully.

  “I have to work, but we plan to make the most of it,” Samirah said.

  “Come join us on the rooftop terrace later. We’re going to have a few drinks before we walk into town for dinner. There is a very good restaurant we remember from our last trip that happens to still be there.”

  “Sounds like a good idea.” Samirah looked at Miguel. “What do you think?”

  “Fine with me. We’ll meet you later after we spend some time at the beach.” They agreed on the time and went their separate ways.

  In their room, Samirah and Miguel changed clothes, grabbed their snorkeling gear, and left for Tortuga Bay. They swam and snorkeled the rest of the afternoon on the small beach before making a reluctant return to the hotel.

  * * * *

  Lying on his back on the bed, Miguel watched Samirah fix her hair in the mirror. “What do you call that in English?” he asked. “What you’re doing to your hair.”

  “Cornrows.” Her fingers moved quickly as she finished the last of six plaits. She planned to leave her hair in this style for the rest of the trip. He repeated the word to familiarize himself with it. “Not corn-rrrows,” she teased. “Cornrows.”

  He hopped from the bed and grabbed her around the waist. “Are you making fun of my accent?”

  She giggled. “Yes.”

  He nuzzled her neck. “Mmmm. I have to punish you, then.”

  “No. We’re already running late for drinks with Jeanne and Luc.” Samirah slipped silver hoops into her earlobes.

  “How about a…how do you say…quickie?”

  She twisted in the circle of his arms and shook her head. Placing her palms against his chest, she said, “Behave yourself,” although she could feel the stirrings of her own desire.

  He reached under her white tank top at the same time his other hand stroked down the back of her bare leg in a pair of cut off denim shorts. “Cinco minutos,” he coaxed.

  “You always say five minutes, but you always take way longer. Come on.” She pushed away his hands. Miguel grumbled in Spanish behind her, but she ignored him and led the way out the door.

  They found the French couple seated at a round table on the roof. From the rooftop location, they had a good view of the beach and the road leading into town. The soothing sound of the water and the songs of nature’s nocturnal insects blanketed the air.

  “There they are!” Luc said. “We thought you had forgotten us.”

  Samirah smiled. “We spent most of the afternoon snorkeling and enjoyed ourselves so much we lost track of the time.”

  “I can see you both spent a lot of time in the sun. I am jealous of you. I burn easily.”

  “We have the rooftop all to ourselves,” Jeanne said. She held out two glasses in one hand and a bottle of red wine in the other. “Wine?”

  “None for me, thanks,” Samirah said.

  “I’ll have one of those beers,” Miguel said, pointing to the small open cooler on the floor of the terrace.

  “No problem.” Luc handed him a bottle. Miguel sat down and pulled Samirah onto his lap. “So how long have you two been married?”

  For the first time since they arrived, Samirah felt uncomfortable. She tensed.

  “We’re not married,” Miguel replied.

  “Oh, really? You act like newlyweds. You’re an attractive young couple, and from what I can see, you are well-suited to each other.” He took a sip of his beer. “Okay, so tell me, what is the relationship here?” Samirah lowered her eyes. She felt Miguel tense and wondered how he would explain their relationship.

  “Luc!” his wife said in a mortified voice. She scolded him in colorful French, not knowing Samirah understood every word. “Pardon my husband. I think he has had too much to drink.”

  “I am not drunk, but please excuse me if I have offended you. Samirah, you’re American?”

  Samirah nodded. “Next week I’ll be back in the States.” The thought of going back temporarily saddened her.

  “That’s too bad.” Luc eyed them with interest. “But if you’re meant to be together, the distance will be irrelevant.”

  When neither responded, Jeanne asked if they had plans for dinner. “Why don’t you join us?” she added before they could answer. “We will pay for the meal, and we can continue our conversation.”

  “We couldn’t impose.”

  “You are not imposing,” Jeanne said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Samirah, you’ll probably want to change into something else.”

  “I don’t know…” Samirah’s eyes found Miguel’s to get a cue from him on what he wanted to do.

  “Can you not see,” Luc drawled in a dry tone, “that my wife is desperate to avoid spending time alone with me? Please, save her.” Jeanne’s lips tightened and her cheeks colored.

  Miguel gave Samirah a reassuring smile. “Sure,” he said to the couple.

  Samirah rose from his lap to go change and Jeanne got up also. “I will make sure the restaurant can accommodate two more people at our table. We will be back in five minutes.”

  * * * *

  Miguel wanted to spend more time alone with Samirah, but knowing her outgoing personality, he assumed she might like to be in the company of other people. He sipped on his beer, his thoughts on the day and what they had planned for tomorrow.

  Luc broke the silence between them. “You are a lucky man,” he said.

  Miguel kept his expression blank. Luc had a sleazy air about him, and he had a feeling he wouldn’t like the direction the conversation was about
to take.

  “I remember my younger days in Paris when I was a single man. The foreign girls who came to visit in the summertime were always so much fun and always looking for a summer romance. It was so easy back then.” He sighed. “All I had to do was speak a little French, and soon I had a warm body in my bed.”

  Miguel thought if he remained quiet, maybe Luc would get the message and shut his mouth before he said something he regretted. No such luck.

  “Enjoy your freedom while you can, amigo,” the man continued. “Once you are married, you will not be able to enjoy beautiful women like Samirah.” He lowered his voice to add, “Not out in public, anyway.”

  Miguel carefully set the beer on the table. The conversation definitely edged in a dangerous direction, and he wanted to put a stop to it. It always happened whenever a gringo called him amigo. They assumed their use of the word automatically made them buddies.

  “Listen—”

  “Between me and you—” Luc glanced over his shoulder at the door, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial level. “I have a mistress, and I think my wife has begun to suspect. It would explain her behavior over the past couple of months. But a man has needs, you know what I mean, amigo?”

  He was so self-absorbed he remained unaware he carried on a one-sided conversation.

  “She is even being difficult on this trip, and it’s our anniversary!” Luc sighed dramatically. “Ah, how I envy you! Tonight I will have a cold fish in my bed. While you, my friend…” He laughed knowingly. “You will have that sweet little piece of a—”

  Miguel uncoiled his long body from the chair with the speed of a striking rattlesnake. His hand swiped the small table out of the way between them, sending it and the contents—beer, the bottle of wine, and the glasses—crashing to the wooden floor.

  Luc stared up at him with his mouth hanging open. Miguel had him on his feet and against the wall with his forearm pressed to his throat before Luc could utter a word. The French man’s eyes became wide and terrified in his face.

  “Maybe you have no respect for your woman,” Miguel said in an even tone, “but you will have respect for mine. She is a goddess. You’re not worthy to speak her name.”

  Only a muddled, gurgling sound could be heard from Luc’s throat. Miguel was tempted to crush his windpipe to keep him quiet, but he pulled back. The rage inside him quelled to a quiet hum as he watched Luc lean over the railing to gag and cough to catch his breath.

  The last time he experienced such rage had been during a schoolyard fight as a teen. By then he was bigger than most of the boys his age, but one young man hadn’t understood the consequences of his words. He didn’t tolerate anyone talking about his mother, and he wouldn’t tolerate one single inappropriate word about Samirah.

  “What is the matter with you?” Luc asked in a strained voice when he finally caught his breath. His eyes were watery and his face still colored a deep red hue. “I paid you a compliment.”

  Miguel didn’t answer, deciding it wasn’t worth explaining to the man why his remark was improper. He was certain Luc wouldn’t like it if he made such an offhand, inappropriate comment about his wife. He also didn’t want to delve any deeper into his violent, visceral reaction.

  Seconds after he righted the table, the women returned. They both looked down at the mess on the floor of the terrace with baffled expressions.

  “What happened?” Jeanne asked.

  “We had a little accident,” Luc replied, clutching his throat.

  “An accident?” She looked from her husband to Miguel and back again, but neither offered any more details.

  To ease the awkwardness of the moment, Miguel moved to stand beside Samirah. “We’re on our own for dinner,” he said, feigning regret. “It seems Luc has had a change of heart and wants to spend the evening alone with his wife.”

  Luc cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said readily at his wife’s confused look.

  “How…sweet,” Samirah commented, her voice tinged with skepticism. “Maybe we’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Maybe.” The man cast a wary look in Miguel’s direction, which indicated there was no way in hell he wanted to have anything else to do with them.

  After saying their goodbyes, Miguel and Samirah left for the walk into town. Halfway down the stairs to the first floor, Samirah stopped Miguel by placing a hand on his arm. “What really happened back there? It almost looked as if the two of you got into a fight.”

  “We didn’t fight.” He took hold of her hand and led the way down the rest of the stairs. “Like Luc said, we had a little accident.”

  She pursed her lips in disbelief. Rather than give her the opportunity to ask more questions, he placed his arm around her neck and pulled her close as they strolled toward the path to town. “Stop worrying. We’re supposed to be having fun, remember?” He gently yanked the end of one of her braids. He didn’t want to say anything and have her worry about Luc and his remark.

  The corners of her mouth lifted into one of her sweet smiles that made his heart stop. “Okay,” she said, putting her arm around his waist. “I’ll let you off the hook this time.”

  A group of four walked ahead of them. The balmy night air whispered across their skin.

  “Thank you,” he said. He pressed his lips to her temple. “All I want to do is concentrate on eating a good meal and then making love to you for the rest of the night.”

  “Mmm. Good idea.”

  She giggled, and the sound caused his chest to tighten, and so did his arm, to draw her closer to him.

  * * * *

  The rest of the trip was filled with activity. On Saturday, they visited the Charles Darwin Research Station in town and walked the island with a park-certified guide. Samirah snapped photos of the birds and other animals they came across. The guide reminded them not to feed the animals even though they came close, and not to veer off the walking trails. He also cautioned everyone in their small group that when snorkeling, it was fine to swim with the young sea lions because they were very tame, but to stay away from the actual sea lion colonies because the bull lions were dangerous and protective of their turf.

  “I’ll protect you from the big, bad sea lions,” Miguel whispered in her ear.

  After Santa Cruz, they traveled to Isabela Island, the largest of the islands in the chain. They spent the next two days there, once again at a small hotel on the beach. On Isabela, Samirah finally got the opportunity to swim with the sea lions, and she saw a blue-footed booby dive down into the water to capture a fish not too far from where she and Miguel snorkeled. She snapped lots of photos, including ones of the giant tortoises, and she let Miguel take a photo of her at the top of the Sierra Negra volcano after their one hour hike.

  Late in the afternoon on the last day, they lay on the beach watching the sun go down.

  “Do we have to leave tomorrow?” Samirah moaned into his chest.

  He wound the end of a braid around his finger. “Unfortunately, yes.”

  She sighed heavily.

  “You enjoyed yourself?” he asked quietly.

  “Too much. I wish we could stay longer.” She blinked back the tears.

  They’d spent every moment together the past five days, and she was spoiled. To go back to their previous routine would be like leaving filet mignon for ground beef. He could barely keep his hands off of her, and their lovemaking was often passionate, and sometimes so sweet and tender it brought tears to her eyes.

  “You took a lot of pictures, so you’ll have a way to remember this trip.”

  She raised her head to look into his eyes. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

  “My pleasure.” He brought her face closer to his with his hand at the back of her head. “I’ll never forget this time with you.”

  Why did his words sound so…final?

  Samirah licked her lips, forcing a smile to ease the fear pounding through her. “Me either. But we still have the rest of the week to spend together.”

  Desperate,
pathetic. That’s how she sounded. Could he see the despair in her eyes?

  She kissed his lips, needing to feel close to him right then, needing some reassurance she hadn’t made a mistake.

  He rose up onto his elbows. “We should go back to the room,” he murmured.

  “No.” She kept him in place with both hands and climbed on top of him.

  “Someone might see us.” His eyes hazed over in lust as she removed her bikini top.

  “Since when do you care about anyone seeing us?” she asked. “No one will see us. The trees are in the way.” She didn’t care if someone saw them anyway. Acute need and the desire to be close to him twisted through her.

  They’d long ago stopped using protection—their passion too wild and spontaneous to be curtailed by its limitations. They made love in the sand, with her on top of him. Her body conformed to his as if it were tailor made to drape across him.

  Desperation edged their lovemaking. He filled her with pleasure so sublime she could only cling to him in the aftermath. Tears filled her eyes, and she squeezed them shut to prevent the tears from falling.

  He hadn’t asked her to stay yet, but she was certain he would. How could he not, when they’d been so close for weeks and now had spent five wonderful days together? Surely it had been as special for him as it had been for her.

  He would ask. And she already knew what her answer would be.

  She would say yes.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Back in Cuenca, the taxi ride from the airport was a quiet one. Samirah tried not to think about the coming weekend, but it remained at the top of her mind. In just days she would be on a plane back to Miami. Unless the man seated beside her made an offer she couldn’t refuse.

  She watched him from the corner of her eye. He looked tired, or stressed, or both. Since last night, lines had formed at the corners of his mouth. She wondered if he had similar thoughts to hers. Maybe she should say something—hint she would like to remain in Cuenca for a longer period.