Page 13 of Never Again
“Stay right here.” He went to the wall, picked up one of the canvases, and turned it around to face her. “This was a commissioned piece.”
“It’s gorgeous,” she whispered.
They continued in the same vein with the others. He showed her a work of art, and then he explained the story behind it. She listened attentively. If she was bored with his explanations, she didn’t let on. She asked questions, and more than once they laughed out loud together.
Finally, he opened the closet and pulled out the three paintings he’d kept for last.
Carmen gasped. She looked from the paintings to his face and back again. “That’s me,” she said.
“You were always on my mind, Carmen.”
A sad little smile slipped across her lips. “And you were always on mine.”
He guided her over to the living room sofa in front of the TV and showed her a portfolio filled with pictures of his paintings. They sipped wine and chatted about his work and hers. They shared funny stories from the past and caught up on the current events in each other’s lives.
Their camaraderie reminded him of how they used to be, before their relationship fell apart. Before he thought it was better to leave her behind.
Before he’d made the biggest mistake of his life.
6
Carmen slowly woke up, and a few seconds passed before she became oriented to her surroundings. The street lights contributed their brilliance through the windows to the interior of the dark loft. Carlos had one arm around her, holding her close to his side.
They’d fallen asleep watching a movie.
He was still asleep, his Adam’s apple sticking out as his head rested on the back of the sofa. She studied him—the hard jawline, the large, straight nose, and the sort of casual sexiness he wore in every act, even while he slept.
Speaking of which, how long had they been asleep? She looked around but couldn’t find a clock, and her phone lay face down on the coffee table.
Her gaze traveled the length of Carlos’s body and stopped at his lap. He may be asleep, but his body wasn’t. Not if his tented slacks were any indication. His left hand twitched against her arm, and his body tensed, chest going up and down a little faster. He must be dreaming—maybe about her?
Knowing that she might be the reason for his arousal excited her. Carlos groaned and shifted, and then his eyes flew open. He blinked rapidly several times, as if trying to determine if he really saw her or was dreaming.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi.”
“You were dreaming.”
He swallowed. “Yeah.”
“About me?”
Stillness filled the air as he paused, eyes intently focused on her face. “Yeah.”
Carmen eased her hand down his chest to the front of his pants. Carlos took a deep breath, but he didn’t stop her. Her hand massaged his hard length through his clothes while his jaw hardened with the tension exerted to remain still.
“What were you thinking about?” Carmen asked.
“I think you know,” he answered in a strained voice.
The same thing she was. Seeing him again made her emotional and long to be closer. Maintaining eye contact, she eased from under his arm and lowered to the floor.
“Carmen, you don’t have to do that,” he said, but didn’t sound very convincing.
“I want to.” She loved giving head—to him. Damn near salivated at the thought of having that pleasure again—the weight against her tongue, the width of him stretching the corners of her lips tight.
His face twisted into a brief grimace, as if her actions would bring him pain instead of pleasure.
