Joaquin drove into her now, every thrust filling her, rocking her, inching her closer andcloser.
“Oh … my …God.”
He caught her cry with his lips, his kiss filling her mouth with her musky taste, strong thrusts drawing out her climax. But he wasn’t far behind her, groaning out her name as bliss carried him away,too.
* * *
Mia’s headrested on Joaquin’s chest, her body replete, the warmth of his skin and the heat from the fire warding off any chill. “Joaquin?”
“¿Sí, miamor?”
“It’s never been like this for mebefore.”
He drew her closer, kissed her hair. “Meneither.”
* * *
Joaquin put allthe lights back where they belonged. Then the two of them made a dinner of pasta and salad together, Joaquin in his boxer briefs, Mia looking distractingly sexy in her bathrobe. He told her about his cousins—the forty she hadn’t yet met—sharing the good and the bad of having such a bigfamily.
Mia listened, laughed at his stories of getting into trouble as a kid, and did a pretty good job of keeping all the names straight. There was something different in the way she looked at him now, a vulnerability on her face that hadn’t been there before, a softness and gentleness in her gaze he’d never seen. He hoped it meant what he thought itdid.
He hoped she was falling in love with him,too.
Joaquin had never felt more naked, more exposed. He’d thought he was in love a couple of times before, and he’d had some hard crushes. But he’d never felt like this, his heart wide open, every part of him from his brain to his balls unguarded. It left him feeling like he was flying—and scared the shit out ofhim.
Love had to be a two-way street, and he couldn’t be sure how Mia felt about him. Her life had been thrown into chaos by a killer. The fact that she had turned to him was gratifying, but it didn’t necessarily mean that she cared for him the way he cared forher.
On top of that, she didn’t have much experience with relationships, not just with men, but also close family relationships. She’d spent her life fending for herself. He had no idea how she’d react if he told her how he felt. He didn’t want to overwhelm her or freak her out, which meant he needed to let her set thepace.
If it’s meant to be, it will workout.
That’s what hisabuelitahad always told him. But then, as now, her words didn’t make him feelbetter.
Mia lit candles and poured glasses of white wine while Joaquin got dinner on the table. The meal was perfect, but Joaquin barely noticed what he was eating. All he could think about wasMia.
You have it bad,cabrón.
Yes, hedid.
“What should we do with those photos?” Mia asked as they cleared dishesaway.
“We’ll do whatever you want. They’re yours.” Joaquin had never intended to keep them. “I could give you the memory card. You could tell me which ones you want to save, or I could erase all of them by reformatting thedisk.”
They ended up on the sofa together, scrolling through the images one by one, giving Mia a chance to see them again before Joaquin deletedthem.
“I can’t believe that’sme.”
“That is one hundred percent you—no retouching, no makeup,nada. I wasn’t even coaching you. You came up with all of those sexy posesyourself.”
“I guess that’strue.”
“You know it’strue.”
They were down to the last few shots when a noise on the deck brought the conversation to ahalt.
“Someone’s out there,” Mia whispered, getting to herfeet.
A sound like quiet footsteps, snowsqueaking.