Playing With Fire

His hands were skimming over her stomach again, cupping her breasts, and his erection was rock hard against her. Good God. Had that part of him gotten bigger, too?

He reached under her skirt, exploring her thighs, and she opened her legs, wanting more.

“You feel so good, so soft.” His voice was rough in her ear. “You want this nice and slow, or you want this hard?”

The question spread a wave of heat through her, and she swallowed a lump in her throat. “Hard.”

His fingers flexed as the word floated out of her mouth. He hissed out a breath, and his hand moved higher, finding the edges of her panties.

“Hard,” he rasped. “That’s exactly what I want right now with you.”

As he spoke those words, he slipped his hand under the lace of her panties and stroked her, dipped his fingers inside her. She moaned and rocked into his hand.

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered.

Damn, this would be good. Something about him made her light up. When they had their last fight, he had said something that stuck. A man like him could only have two purposes for a woman like her: to work for her or to fuck her. Not that she believed it, but if that was all he was offering...

“Let’s do this now, Simon,” she said, her voice tight in her throat. Before she looked too closely at what was happening.

His hands disappeared, and there was a rustling behind her. After a moment, he set the condom wrapper on the counter next to her. Then he pulled away.

Marianna gripped the edge of the counter, willing herself not to turn around. Not to watch the look on his face in the intimate, erotic moment when he pulled himself out. Were his fingers trembling as he rolled the condom down his long, hard erection? Did he want her as badly as she wanted him? But she couldn’t make this any more personal.

All thought disappeared the moment he touched her again, coaxing her to bend over farther. They didn’t bother with undressing. He just lifted her skirt up and moved her panties to the side. He slid his erection along her core, back and forth, before he pushed in hard.

She gasped and cried out, and he growled behind her, thrusting again.

“Did you miss my hard cock?”

She gulped in a breath as bolts of white-hot pleasure shot through her body.

“Is this what you missed most?” His voice was heavy in her ear.

She couldn’t answer, but he knew this about her. He could fuck her speechless. Words became impossible when so much want and need spread through her. He was filling her, over and over again, hard and fast, building her up way too soon. She should have known he couldn’t just put aside their past. And neither could she.

Now they were right back where they were eleven years ago, and she didn’t have it in her to stop it. Not right now, when his hot breaths drifted over her neck and his voice rang in her ears. Each thrust took them deeper, closer. He slid his hands down her back, caressing, exploring. His fingers dug into her hips, and she answered him, pushing back against him, meeting each movement, seeking her own pleasure.

Oh, God.

Her knees began to shake, threatening to give out. Her own moans of pleasure were coming louder and faster as she spiraled out of control.

“Yes, Simon.”

Her body exploded in flashes of white heat as those words echoed inside. Yes, Simon. It was too much. She shook and crumbled onto the cool countertop as the waves of ecstasy rushed through her. Simon gave two last hard thrusts and roared out his own pleasure, sending another ripple of bliss through her. His big body shuddered behind her, and he breathed out a string of curse words in Spanish.

She smiled to herself. When she was younger, she got off on making him finish that way. Back then, she didn’t understand much of what he was saying—Spanish was the language her father had refused to teach her in his struggle to distance them both from his Cuban roots. She had fought to learn the language as an adult.

Marianna laid her cheek against the granite, trying to catch her breath. Simon bent over her, his hands on the counter next to hers, his skin hot through his shirt. His breaths brushed over her in heavy pants, and his lips pressed against her shoulder.

All too soon, he pulled out, and the warmth of his body disappeared. She caught a glimpse of him over her shoulder, his face twisted with emotion.

She didn’t want to know what came next. Not yet.

Pulling together her strength, Marianna straightened up and headed for the bathroom. She locked the door, leaned her elbows on the sink and buried her face in her hands. Just breathe. This was about closing the door on a part of her life, not opening it.

Goddamn him. And she still hadn’t figured out why he’d come in the first place. It had to be something about the past. She had never learned exactly what her father had said to him eleven years ago, but whatever it was had made him leave her behind. Her father had simply told her that he had made Simon a financial offer, and he didn’t choose Marianna. No discussion, not then, not ever. She had only seen Simon once after that, and he didn’t deny her father’s version.

That’s one way of saying it was all he had replied, his scowl darkening.

Not an admission, not a denial. But his actions spoke louder: he’d gotten the hell out of Miami.

And now, eleven years later, he just shows up?

Marianna took a deep breath and splashed water over her eyes. Then, slowly, she walked back to the kitchen.

The empty kitchen.

“Simon?”

The words echoed off the floors and the shiny countertops, mocking her.

“Simon?”

Nothing. She crossed the kitchen to a notepad on the counter. On the top of the first page, a handwritten note was left in that scrawl she’d never forgotten.

Call your lawyer and make a new plan. I’m taking care of security.

That was all.

“Damn you, Simon Rodriguez,” Marianna yelled out to no one.

CHAPTER THREE (#ub6423e12-17f1-5f35-87b5-c123f537ae9e)

THE SUN SHONE through the windows of Simon’s top-floor office, reflecting off the marble floor. Nothing was out of place on the sleek, modern desk in front of him, aside from the coffee cup Stephanie, one of the admins, had dropped off when she arrived. Probably cold by now. Simon slowly rocked in his soft leather chair and frowned out at the Sydney Harbour. He had gotten back from Miami a week ago, and he had wasted too much of that time thinking about Marianna.

What the hell was wrong with him?

At night when he was alone, he let his guard down, and images of that scene in the kitchen came flooding back. He was going to spend the next twenty years getting himself off to the memory of her soft warmth around him as he came deep inside her. And while the teenage memories were more dreamlike, this one was real. Raw. Whatever else had happened between them, the explosive spark hadn’t dulled over the years.

What would have happened if he hadn’t walked away last week? Maybe it was a dick move, but he’d had to cut that encounter short. Otherwise... Would they have spent the night reliving the past, over and over? Before he could stop himself, the fantasy took life: he’d carry her up to her room and taste her and tease her with his mouth until she told him the truth.

Did you believe your father over me all this time? Have you thought of me like I’ve thought of you?

When William was fucking you, did you ever wish it was me?

Those were the questions he’d taunt her with. Once she’d told him the truth, he’d make her come.

Simon had already come to terms with the fact that he’d never fully get over her. Maybe it was always like that with first loves.