Page 123 of Along Came Amor
Ava kissed his collarbone. It was a sweet, comforting little peck, but Roman wanted more. He rolled on top of her, and soon he was trailing his mouth in a leisurely path down her neck to her sternum, pulling aside the fabric of her nightgown and kissing every inch of skin he exposed.
Her breathing became shallow, her chest rising and falling against his lips with increasing speed. When he wrapped his mouth around her nipple, she let out a soft moan and tunneled her fingers into his hair. Her thighs parted to cradle his hips and she bucked against his erection.
“Slow, mi amor,” he whispered against her breast, sliding his hands down the length of her body in soothing strokes. “We have all night.”
This might be the first time they were making love in his bed, but it wouldn’t be the last. Still, he wanted to make it memorable.
With steadfast patience, he worshiped her body from the top of her head to her soles of her feet, treasuring each gasp, each moan, each sigh. When she was quivering and all but sobbing with need, he filled her in a gradual slide before setting a languid and leisurely pace. Through it all, he pestered her with soft, tender kisses, refusing to hurry even when she clenched her inner muscles around him in an effort to snap his control.
“Relax,” he breathed into her hair. “I have you.”
Finally, she calmed, her body going loose and pliant under him as he coaxed orgasm after orgasm from her with the precision of a master cellist playing a concerto. When she’d whispered, “It’s your turn to let go,” he’d done just that, his climax overtaking him as profoundly as hers had.
When it was over, Roman lay on his back with Ava’s head on his shoulder, her long legs twined with his. He stroked her hip as he stared at the ceiling in the dark.
This was what he wanted. No barriers, no boundaries, no rules. Just Ava in his home, in his bed. Every single night, for the rest of their lives.
Except he was leaving again in two days. The hotel group had a number of deals in the works, acquisitions and expansions and licensing agreements. Many of them relied on him being physically in the room. And then, of course, there was Casa Donato, a side project that had previously taken up every second of his already limited free time.
Maybe he could shift some of his responsibilities. Promote some people, so he didn’t have to travel as often, or for as long.
When do you get to rest?
He didn’t know. Up until now, he’d operated under theI’ll rest when I’m deadwork ethic. But to spend more time with Ava, he’d have to figure it out.
He fell asleep with his mind full of personnel lists and logistics. When he woke up, he was no closer to an answer than he’d been the night before.
But Ava was still curled against him, warm and real, and that was more than enough.
Chapter 38
Two Weeks Until the Wedding
Jasmine’s bridal shower was held in a suite at the Dulce Flor. Ava never would’ve had the guts to ask Roman for such a favor, for fear that he’d think she was using him for free event space or something like that. Luckily, Ashton had no such qualms, and Ava was saved from trying to host the shower in her grandmother’s living room.
It was half an hour before the party was officially set to begin and the suite was in chaos. All the tías had shown up early bearing trays of food, and now, after decimating the first pitcher of mimosas Ava had made, they were standing around gossiping amid spontaneous bursts of salsa dancing. Marc Anthony blasted from the speakers in the seating area, where Abuela Esperanza and Titi Nereida were engaged in an argument about seasoning with Jasmine’s other grandmother, Lola Sofia, and Jasmine’s aunt, Tita Myra, who had both flown in from San Diego. Ava and Michelle were setting out warming pans.
“More food.” Jasmine plopped a large aluminum foil tray labeled “bacalaitos” on the dining table and knocked over astack of pink “Here Comes the Bride!” napkins in the process. She cursed under her breath as she righted them. “I should’ve had this thing catered.”
Michelle ripped open a package of matching bridal plates. “Bad enough you’re not holding the shower at Abuela’s house. If you didn’t let them bring food, you’d be hearing about how you’re too good for Abuela’s arroz or Titi Nereida’s pastelillos for the rest of your life.”
“And Ronnie’s still pissed you didn’t let her plan the engagement party,” Ava added. “Giving her full rein over the shower decorations was the compromise.”
Jasmine eyed the giant balloon arch Ronnie was erecting in the seating area. “That looks like it belongs at a baby shower.”
It did, but Ava tried to look on the bright side. “At least Ronnie went with blush pink instead of mint green. She told me that was her other color option.”
Jasmine pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned.
“Where do you want these?” Jillian asked, clomping over with a box of forty goody bags, which Ava knew contained bracelets made by Titi Val, coffee-scented candles made by Willow, and rustic handmade soaps from Ronnie’s mom, Titi Nita. The bags themselves had been decorated by Ronnie’s stepdaughter.
Ava took the box. “I’ll set them up near the gifts.”
Jasmine sniffed one of the bags. “When did our family get so crafty?”
“Everyone needs a hobby,” Jillian said with a shrug.
Their grandmother hurried over to them. “Muchachas, tengo mas goodies for the bags.”
