Page 40 of Sombra
My arms cross over my chest. “It is.”
“Then why did youneed to get away?”
I flinch. “I told you. Because I needed to be myself.”
“Don’t you think that says something—that you need to get away from him to be yourself?”
“Don’t ask questions like that.”
“I apologize. I am just not understanding why you would leave the love of your life, the one you are going to be engaged to, if you really are in love with him.”
Myteeth grind, and my muscles quiver. “He is my love. It’s just not an all-consuming love. It’s a quieter love. One of mutual respect.” Even as I’m saying the words, I’m not really believing them. Because while Shane does respect me in that he treats me politely, I don’t think he respects who I am deep down inside. And he doesn’t care for me the way I need.
Tavo grabs both of my hands andholds them together. His callouses chafe my knuckles. I like his hands. They’re veiny and work-worn. Honest hands. And dare I say, passionate hands. “Then why are you settling for anything less than what you deserve?”
Am I settling?
I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I need to get away from Tavo. I’m engulfed by my emotions and in a new country with this new guy anyone with eyesand a brain would be attracted to.
But I don’t make a move. I just lock my eyes on him. I delight in his hands holding mine. And I feel so guilty about doing so.
“Kim, I know we’ve just met, but I’m attracted to you. You make me think my dreams are possible. But it’s going to drive me crazy that I can’t have you—”
“So maybe it’s that. Maybe you just want the things you cannothave.”
The sad way he shakes his head hurts my heart. “I am very good at that.”
“What do you mean?”
Giving me a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, he says, “Nada. Es nada.” He says it more to himself than to me. “Let me take you back.”
He drops my hands, and we walk back through the orchard. This time it doesn’t sparkle like it did on the way in. The colors are muted,and I’ve changed. Tavo gazes at the ground when he walks, his hands deep in his jean pockets.
When we get back to my room, he pauses in the doorway. There’s nothing to say. I wring my hands, and he strokes his chin. He reaches out and runs the back of his finger across my cheek. “Just when I thought I’d found the right one,” he whispers. And he turns and leaves.
After my toescross the threshold of my room, I fling myself on the antique bed and play over and over (and over) again in my mind the consummate torture of Tavo’s full lips on mine. The gasp of his fervent breath against my smooth skin. The sweet taste of his ardent tongue. His shiny, thickhair wrapped around my fingers.
What did he mean by, “the right one?” Does he think I’m the right one?
Is he the right one?
I roll from my back to my front and then back again. My heart drums in my chest. My arms tremble. I slide my feet up and down the sheets, unable to stay still.
All during our walk this morning, thick tension filled the space between our bodies,like a bubble. Like one touch would break it all down.
One touch did.
That kiss.
My tongue in his mouth. His firm hands on me. The way our teeth knocked together. The way he woke me up. He wokemy bodyup. Teasing that desire out of me.
I scooch around on my bed like I’m dancing, arms making snow angels, my butt wiggling against the mattress. Nerve endings ping throughoutmy body. I felt the same way after the car ride, although that was centered between my legs.
But it’s not just physical feeling. It’s Tavo’s overpowering effect on me.
Not only is he so dang—damn—sexy with that ridiculous six-pack that makes me drool, he’s also courtly and kind, thoughtful and sweet. And he’s so touchy-feely. I love it. I’m pulled to him like an anchor hauled upby a ship with no choice but to go to him.
Like everything here, he’s just so … decadent.
