Page 23 of No Sweeter Poison

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

I expect something similar to that first night in El Aliciente. Heat, passion, hunger. And there is, except not in the way I had thought. What’s lacking is desperation.

He kisses me like he has all the time in the world to figure it out.

It starts as a delicate brush of the lips and I lift my head to meet him, our mouths touching with a tenderness that settles deep in my bones. Heat gathers in intimate places as he runs his tongue along the seam of mouth and I open for him, giving him the access he craves. I bring my hands to the nape of his neck where his hair tangles around my fingertips. His arms come around me, one palm pressed against my lower back, the other spread between my shoulder blades, and the touch leaves me breathless.

He pulls me flush against his body and I wrap my legs around his waist, the ruffles on my skirt rising upward and pooling at my hips. Alejandro’s hands move—one tangling in my hair, the other gripping my thigh—and I take his bottom lip between my teeth and suck until he moans and his nails dig into my skin.

I’ve never been kissed like this before. And I wonder, fleetingly, how my life will ever be the same after this.

“Alex!”

Footsteps from down the hall reach the front door and we’ve no sooner pulled apart than Diego comes barreling into the room.

“The flame was too high, you almost burned—”

My faceis burning. I angle my body away from Diego, smoothing my hands down the front of my shirt as Alejandro discreetly wipes the remnants of my lipstick off his bottom lip, other hand planted firmly on his hip.

We look suspicious.

“Dahlia.” Alejandro’s voice is hoarse. “You remember my brother?”

“Right, yes, of course,” I spin on the balls of my feet and give a quick wave, strained smile plastered on my face. “Good to see you again.”

Diego’s blue gaze darts between the two of us, the wheels turning in his head. “Not in Abuelo’s office, all right? That’s weird. Just imagine a cute little old man sitting in that leather chair any time you think of doing something nasty.”

Alejandro snorts and I scramble to get to the door.

“We should check on the stove?” I say and turn left down the hall. “Smells like something’s burning.”

“Dahlia?”

I walk back to the library. “Hm?”

Alejandro points. “Kitchen’s the other way.”

Right.

I knew that.

D iego’s friends are nice—ish.

I get the sense they don’t like having to switch to English for my benefit. I’d let them stick to Spanish if I thought they’d like me more but I don’t suppose that matters. They’re here for Diego and not me.

Alejandro sits at the head of the table, Lettie at the foot, the rest of us scattered in the seats between. All throughout dinner I feel Alejandro’s eyes on me like a brand on my skin. We’re passing around the rice bowl and our hands brush. One of Diego’s friends asks for the wine bottle and we reach for it at the same time.

Diego’s friends are polite enough to ignore the tension but Lettie stares at us both head on.

It’s probably the hottest, most awkward dinner of my life.

I wonder if they know, just by looking at us, what we were up to in the library. A kiss is innocent enough but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want, or crave, more.

God, I wish these people would leave so Alejandro can ask me to spend the night and I can come up with a few half-assed excuses to maintain my pride before letting him take me upstairs. Since this is their grandfather’s house, I’m sure they all have bedrooms here, or at least a guest bedroom they frequent.

When the conversation drops to a hush, everyone lulled into a dessert and alcohol induced haze, Alejandro leans over and whispers, “Did you enjoy yourself?”

I lift my head and nod. “I did. Thank you for inviting me.”