He’d never, ever, ever again ever insist anything from her that she didn’t choose to give.
She was already nodding when he pressed her into pillows and said, “I need to be inside you,” and he was kissing her luscious lips as he was searching for her, his free hand holding him up, and he was stroking over silk skirt and soft hair and velvety moisture and then his hot, iron-hard cock sank into the hot plush hug of her body and her thighs were coming up to grip his hips, still in his suit pants, and he was in heaven, pushing deeper into the soft, wet give of her, in her pillow-thick princess bed as those capable chemist’s hands tilted up his chin and she stared into his eyes.
Staring into him, her eyes held a million stars. She tilted her hips and then slowly, with absolute power and control, she gripped him inside her. He gritted his teeth to keep them from chattering; the intimacy, the pleasure, was agonizing.
“Sofia...baby...love.” He couldn’t stop panting. “You blind me. You’re star bright.”
He began to move, he had to show her, he had to prove to her, he could give her what she needed. He needed her. He only had four days.
The slide of his cock—he was thick and long and could move his hips and it was all for her, all his practice to please this princess who’d earned it—got him a reward: she tasted the inside of his mouth, bit his chin before she pulled back, still holding his jaw. “It’s you. What it feels like...with you.” She poured every hot word in Spanish over him as he pulsed and thrust into her, pushing her deeper into the pillows, deeper into the center of her where she lit him up. “What it always felt like with you. Say it again, Aish.”
And he knew what she was asking for as he collapsed against her, dug his arms under her to hold her close, wrapped her tight while he rode her hard because she could take it, it’s how she wanted it, drowning in her eyes. “Estrella,” he said clearly. “My star. Always. Drawing me and guiding me. Estrella. So strong and bright and making me...fuck...” He pushed deep and made her still against him, losing it in the amazement of all of this. He held her precious body and made sure she saw every naked hope in his eyes. “Sofia, my shining star... I need you. Always have. Always will.”
And for the first time ever, it was his words, his English, that made her come.
“Mi fuego,” she cried out, and she was light-filled pleasure in front of his eyes and gut-shuddering pleasure down his cock, and beautiful, beloved woman falling apart in his arms while he watched his favorite words pour out of her mouth: “Aish” and “mi fuego” and “amor” and “amor” and “amor.”
After, she kicked him out of her room.
It wasn’t a surprise; Aish didn’t fight leaving.
He was feeling pretty fucking overwhelmed, too. He skirted the party and found their driver. On the silent drive back to the hospedería, his hands were trembling. Something mattered, really fucking mattered, and for the first time in his life, he might not get it.
What was a surprise was the early dawn phone call from Devonte, after he’d just drifted off.
“Tell me you didn’t do this,” his manager demanded.
Just six words and an hour of sleep and Aish was wide awake. He’d never heard him more disgusted.
“Do what?” Aish asked, already panicking.
“Don’t fuck with me, motherfucker.”
And Aish wanted to die.
“I trusted you. She trusted you. Tell me you didn’t set all this up just to destroy her and help you.”
Aish shoved out of his bed and strode across his room naked, grabbed for the first jeans he saw. “Dude, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please, man,” he begged into the phone cradled against his neck, already looking for a shirt, shoes.
Devonte was silent for too long. Finally, he said, “I’m heading to the airport now. I’m on the next plane out and you’re gonna have to lie to my face.
“But there’s proof. There’s a flash drive proving John stole songs. They’re saying Sofia released it to get back at you. That you had a blowup fight after you two left the party, and she was always jealous of John and the band... With all the pictures of you two googly eyed and how hard you were working at the winery, they’re making her out to be the traitor. Vindictive, small minded, the woman scorned...man, the bullshit they’re slinging about her.”
Devonte’s sigh was full of remorse. “If you made me part of a plan to destroy a good woman who didn’t want anything to do with you...”
“I didn’t,” Aish insisted, his heart tommy-gunning in his chest. His eyes shot around the room, looking for his key, his phone. Yeah, fuck, he was using his phone. “I didn’t, I swear to God, but man, I gotta go.”
Go, go, go. Oh Jesus fuck, he needed to go.
“Man, I gotta go find her.”
But when he threw his door open, he realized he wasn’t going anywhere. Because already keeping watch in the hall was his old guard dog, Roman Sheppard, looking every bit the soldier, with his shoulders thrown back, his fists clenched, and murder in his eyes.
September 27
Sofia rested her fists on the glass wall of her office and looked out over the afternoon dimness of her wine production facility. The lights were off and the winery was still. The day after the end-of-harvest party was always a day of rest in the Monte. Tomorrow, the facility would be bustling again as employees and interns took measurements, racked wine, and hauled barrels down to the cellar for long-term storage in
