“The lady is with me,” Andrés said.
“That so?” He turned to Cat. “This is what you like? Some pansy musician pretending to be a man?”
Andrés met Cat’s gaze. “Go outside, mi gatita.”
“Only if you come with me.”
“When this is finished.”
“That won’t take long,” the blond said. He beckoned to Andrés. “Go ahead, faggot. Just be careful not to hurt your pretty little fingers.”
He had barely lifted his own massive fists when Andrés struck, hitting the blond with a series of punches that snapped his head from side to side as if it were made of rubber. The bigger man crashed into the table and collapsed to the floor, sprawling in an ungainly heap.
The bartender appeared beside Cat. “You’d better get him out of here,” he said, nodding toward Andrés. “I know this guy, and he’s trouble. I don’t want a brawl.”
“Of course. I’ll pay for any damages.” Cat took Andrés’s arm, feeling the muscles bunched beneath his shirt sleeve. “Please, Andrés. Let’s go.”
He regarded her with a wild look and suddenly relaxed. “As you wish, mi gatita.”
Together they left the bar. It had grown dark; the plaza twinkled with lights that rivaled the stars. Cat paused to get her bearings.
“Where shall we go?” Andrés said close to her ear. “Have you a bed, querida?”
Prickles of excitement raced from the back of Cat’s neck to the base of her spine. “Thanks for your attempt to help back there, but it really wasn’t necessary.”
“That cabrón was mistreating you.”
“I could have handled it.”
“Few men are to be trusted by a woman alone.”
She turned to stare at him, challenging her own unease. “Does that include you?”
“Is that not for you to decide, amada?”
The very sound of his voice was a caress. Cat retreated several steps. “I don’t know why you just happened to be here in Taos, but I came to spend some time alone. That’s what I intend to do.”
Andrés searched her eyes. “If that is what you truly wish.”
“It is. Good-bye.” She began to walk away, feeling his gaze like fire licking between her shoulder blades. Only when she was in the parking lot of her motel did she let down her guard. She ran up the stairs to her room on the second floor, went inside and leaned against the door, her breath coming fast and shallow.
It wasn’t a coincidence. She was certain of that. Andrés hadn’t been here just to join the music festival. Either he’d followed her, or he’d known somehow….
And that’s ridiculous. He couldn’t have.
Cat flung herself down on the bed, grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her chest. No matter where she went, she couldn’t escape: not Andrés, not this feeling that made her wish she’d invited him up to her room and let him have his way with her. She could imagine his lean, muscular body naked beside her, his cock hard and high, his eyes blazing with lust the way Neal’s never had. She saw herself lying on a reed mat beside him, enjoying the pleasures of their wedding night….
She pounded the pillow with her fists. She was wet again, desperate for release that wouldn’t come. It was too early to sleep. She jumped up, paced the small room for a quarter of an hour, turned on the television to some abominable made-for-TV movie, and finally decided on a nice, long, hot shower.
The bathtub was hardly luxurious…one of those featureless molded plastic stalls that was about as welcoming as a tombstone in a graveyard. Cat was too muddled to care. She turned on the spray to its hottest, shed her clothes and stepped in with a sigh of relief.
But her mind would not be still. The water cascading over her breasts and hips made her shiver. Her body was transformed, as if she had become a creature of pure sensuality. She stroked her stomach, suddenly fascinated by the slight mound that had never matched the washboard ideal but now seemed a proclamation of her womanhood. She cupped her breasts, circling her nipples until they rose to firm peaks. She turned her face up into the water and let it cascade over her face while her fingers skimmed down her thighs and came to rest on warm, plump flesh.
Andrés. Oh, God, Andrés.
Her imagination was so vivid that she could almost hear the shower curtain sliding aside, feel the heat of a body behind her, masculine hands resting on her waist and massaging her hips. She could feel his tongue licking moisture from her neck as his cock worked between her parted thighs.
“Mi gatita,” he whispered.
She turned, eyes tightly closed. He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her urgently, tangling his tongue with hers. After an eternity of such kisses he bent his head, following the slope of her chest lower, lower, until his tongue found her breast.
“You want more, querida?” he murmured.
“God. Oh, God. Yes.”
He flicked the tip of her nipple and then took her into his mouth. The cool plastic of the shower stall supported Cat’s weight as he suckled, first one breast and then the other, demanding, devouring. He wedged his hands behind her bottom, squeezing, lifting. His cock was trapped between them, hot and heavy. He withdrew to reposition himself and worked her thighs apart. She made no attempt to resist. He rubbed against her, the head of his cock caressing her swollen lips.
“What do you want?” he asked. “Tell me.”
“I…” She gasped as he pushed a little deeper and then pulled back. “Please…” Someone knocked on the door.
Cat came crashing back to reality. She staggered and clutched at the shower curtain to keep her balance. There was no one else in the shower. She was alone, silently screaming for deliverance.
The knock sounded again. Cat half stumbled out of the tub and reached for the towels folded on the rack above the toilet. They were barely big enough to cover her from breast to upper thigh.
The door seemed a million miles away. She leaned against it and looked through the peephole.
“Who is it?”
But she knew even before he answered, his voice all seductive music.
She hesitated for a second, two. Then she opened the door. She didn’t ask how he’d found her, or why he had come. She grabbed his hand, dragged him into the room, and kissed him.
His reaction was everything it had been in her dream. He thrust with his tongue as he stripped the towel from her body and tossed it aside, leading her to the bed. She went willingly, expecting him to shed his clothes and take her then and there. Instead, he knelt at the foot of the bed, pulled her toward him, and spread her thighs. His lips pressed against her vulva, then his tongue stroked over the moist folds of her labia. She couldn’t remember the last time she had experienced such a sensation or wanted it so much.
Andrés licked upward and found her clitoris, already distended and burning with something very near pain. But he didn’t touch it. He kissed her mons, driving her crazy with need.
“You taste of wine and honey,” he purred.
Cat groaned. “Don’t stop.”
He bent and drew her into his mouth. She arched up, demanding more. His teeth grazed her, his tongue fluttered and teased, bringing closer, ever closer to the release she had so desperately craved. He thrust his tongue deep inside her. She spiraled toward climax, higher and higher.
And once again Andrés denied her. He stood and began to unbutton his shirt, revealing his beautifully developed pecs. Cat couldn’t take her eyes from him. He removed the shirt, folded it and draped it over the chair by the window. Then he unbuttoned his jeans. The zipper slid down with a sensual hiss. He wore nothing underneath. His cock sprang free, bigger than even Cat’s fantasies had predicted.