He stared at me for about three full seconds. He was breathing heavily and was clearly still agitated. For a second I thought he might wind up and smack me again, but then he turned and stormed out of the bedroom.
I walked over to the mirror and observed the area where he’d just hit me. It wasn’t too bad considering how hard he’d hit me. Thank God my mother and father had both already left the house. Rio was the only one home, and he was asleep, no doubt.
What hurt almost as much as the slap was my bruised ego. I couldn’t believe the disrespect Harris had just shown me by answering that call—and in our bedroom, no less! Well, I thought, let’s see how he likes being disrespected.
I found my own cell phone on the dresser and picked it up to dial. After the first ring, Tony’s voice penetrated my ear. It was like an instantaneous healing.
Paris
23
I checked my watch as I stepped onto the elevator at the LaGuardia Airport Marriott. It was a little after eight, so I had about one hour to accomplish what I’d set out to do. On the seventh floor, I stepped out and headed for room 726. I knocked, and when I saw the light disappear from the peephole, I knew he was on the other side of the door, looking out at me. I smiled seductively and held up two fingers.
“I come in peace,” I said.
Miguel opened the door and stuck his head out, checking left and right down the hallway.
“I’m alone,” I reassured him. I couldn’t blame him for looking. My brothers and my father had a knack for scaring off men I was interested in.
“Se?orita Paris, how did you find me?” He sounded a little nervous, but still sexy as hell with his accent. He had that Tony Montana-Scarface swagger, and it turned me on—hence, the reason for my visit.
“Shhh.” I placed a finger over his lips and pressed my body against his. He took a step back, but I didn’t mind, because it just gave me space to enter the suite. “We don’t have time for twenty questions. Your flight leaves in two hours, so you’ll be heading to the airport in an hour, right?”
“Sí.” He nodded.
“Then you need to stop wasting time.”
“I don’t understand. Wasting time?”
I guess the language barrier was greater than I thought, because he really wasn’t getting it. Oh well, time to be blunt about it. “You’re standing here talking when we could be fucking.”
I closed the distance between us. Every time I stepped closer, he moved back, until his legs were against the couch. All it took was one slight push against his chest and he was sitting down. I wasted no time, straddling his lap and wrapping my arms across his shoulders.
His mouth said, “Holy mother of God, your father’s going to kill me,” but the rise in his pants told me he liked the position we were in.
“Don’t worry about my father. He’s not going to kill you, because he’s not going to find out about this. But what I’m about to put on you ... yeah, it just might kill you.” I pressed my body against his and started grinding. I wanted him to feel the warmth that was radiating between my thighs.
“No, se?orita, please.” He placed his hands on my hips to stop them from swaying. “That is what he told me. He said if I touch you, he will kill me.”
Damn, damn, damn! My father must have really scared the crap out of him, because very few men could resist me once I gave them the green light. I was beginning to think I was wasting my time here. I climbed off his lap.
“So you want me to leave?” I looked down and saw that his dick definitely didn’t want me to leave. His face, on the other hand, still wore a mask of concern. Fortunately, after a moment of hesitation, his dick won the battle. He reached out and pulled me back down onto his lap.
I leaned back a little so I could gain access to the bulge in his pants. I caressed the raised outline, tracing along its considerable length, until I came to his plump, swollen head. It jerked and throbbed noticeably to my touch, like a dog standing on its hind legs for attention.