“Stand up. You’re embarrassing me.”
He chuckles as he gets up. “Why? There’s nobody out here.”
I smile and take a quick glance over my shoulder at Ignacio and Noemia’s house. The front of their house is empty but for the dark shadows of night crawling over the concrete porch. They’re still in the backyard. Then why do I feel so uneasy, as if I’m being watched?
“Are you okay?” Nick asks, holding out his arm for me.
I link my arm through his and we set off down the street toward the harbor. “I’m fine. Where are you taking me? Another boat ride?”
“Yes, but this time I’ve got a much bigger boat.”
“A much bigger boat? Sounds like I’m in for quite a ride.”
He laughs and leans over to kiss my temple. “You have a dirty mind, cariño.”
“You have no idea,” I mutter to myself, thinking of the multiple times I’ve pleasured myself to thoughts of Daimon.
“What did you say?” he asks as we descend the stairs from the street down to the harbor.
“Nothing.”
We arrive at the harbor and I immediately notice that there’s a different boat docked here than the last time we came. This sailboat is a bit bigger than the other one and this one seems to be stocked with servants. A crew of three men stand on the deck smiling down at us, while another gentleman stands next to a stairway, which has been unfolded to meet us on the dock.
“Buenas noches, Señor Costa,” the gentleman on the dock says, waving his hand toward the staircase leading up to the deck. “Todo está listo para una gran aventura.”
“What did he say?” I ask Nick as he leads me toward the steps.
“He said everything is ready for a grand adventure.”
I climb the steps toward the deck, wondering why I’m feeling creeped out by the wide smiles plastered across the faces of the boat servants in their tuxedos. But I’m not exactly used to being treated like royalty. And I don’t think I could ever get used to this.
One of the men who is possibly a waiter, leads us to the front of the boat where a table dressed in white linen and set with elegant tableware for two awaits. He takes the bottle of wine from Nick and slips a corkscrew out of his pocket to open it. After he pours us each a glass, he nods and excuses himself so Nick and I can be alone.
Nick grabs both glasses and hands me one. “To a pleasant reunion with your parents and—”
The boat begins pulling away from the dock and the inertia pulls us both backward. Nick catches me before I tumble onto the dining table, but I still manage to spill a good bit of red wine on the white tablecloth. I grab a napkin, dipping it in the glass of ice water on the table, then I attempt to remove the stain.
Nick clamps his hand around my wrist. “Leave it. They’ll wash these later. Come.”
I leave my glass of wine on the table and follow him toward the front of the boat. Grabbing the railing, I close my eyes and breathe in the fresh air. The air smells better at night, once most people have pulled their smoggy cars into their driveways and the winds have died down. The late evening is when you can fully appreciate the scents of nature as they settle and unfurl all around you. God, I miss walking the streets at night.
Nick downs his entire glass of wine and tosses the glass overboard. Then he presses his chest against my back, placing his hands on the railing on either side of me, caging me in. His lips graze the back of my ear and I suck in a sharp breath.
“Maybe we should sit down,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the roar of the water as the boat is propelled forward.
His tongue darts out, tracing the shell of my ear as his right arm curls around my waist, pulling my backside flush against the bulge beneath his slacks. His fingers curl around the bottom of my shirt as he slowly lifts it up then slides his warm hand inside the waistband of my skirt.
“What are you doing?” I whisper a bit louder this time.
“I’m going to give you a grand adventure.”
His hand slides lower until it’s inside my panties. He fumbles around a little, pressing on the wrong places until he finds my opening. He slips his thick middle finger inside me and grunts in my ear.
“What’s wrong?”
“You’re not wet.”
I’m about to reach for his arm to pull his hand out of my panties when he moves his finger and finally finds my clit. “Oh, God.”
He chuckles softly. “There it is.”
I grip the railing, knuckles white as he strokes me slowly. This is so much better than doing it myself. I twist my head around, then I reach back to grab his neck and pull his mouth to mine. He kisses me hard as he caresses my clit and I forget about everything and everyone else around us. Grinding my hips in sync with the rhythm of his hand, I moan louder with each passing moment. Nick continues to chuckle every so often, amazed by my response to his touch.
“Oh, Daimon!”
Shit!
Nick freezes and my eyelids fly open. I yank his hand out of my skirt and smooth down my shirt, trying to ignore the piercing glare he’s casting in my direction.
“I’m sorry. I got carried away.”
“Who’s Daimon?”
I push past him and head for the dining table. “Just someone I knew a long time ago. He’s… dead. He died recently and he was just on my mind. It’s very… sad.”
He sits across the table from me and stares at my full glass of wine for a moment. “I’m sorry to hear that your friend died. That must be very difficult.”
Very difficult? I guess that’s one way to describe what it feels like to kill someone you love.
Love? Do I love Daimon?
Suddenly, I feel sick to my stomach. Nick pushes my glass of wine toward me and I shake my head, feeling both ashamed for screaming Daimon’s name while Nick was touching me and relieved. Relieved that I’ve at least admitted my feelings for Daimon to myself.
“Drink something. It will help you loosen up,” Nick insists, tapping his finger on the stem of the wine glass.
I don’t know if it’s the motion of the boat or the weight of this new realization, but there’s no way I’ll be able to eat or drink right now. And there’s no way I can drink wine while I’m pregnant with the child of the man I love.
I love Daimon.
My eyes well up with tears and I stare at the wine glass so I don’t have to see the expression on Nick’s face.
I love my father’s murderer. The father of my child.
My protector and my enemy.
I wipe the tears from my cheeks and look up into Nick’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I just got a little emotional. I didn’t mean for this to be awkward.”
“No, it’s okay. I understand. You lost someone very important, yes?”
I swallow the knot in my throat, then I sit up straight and draw in a long breath. “He was nobody. He… he’s the person who burned me. And I swore I’d never let it happen again, so let’s eat.”
I’m pregnant. I’m allowed a brief emotional breakdown every now and then. Whether or not I love Daimon doesn’t matter. If he is still alive, and he has the gall to show his face, I will finish him.
We get through the appetizer and soup course without any more tears or mishaps, but I’ve been guzzling so much water, I need a restroom quickly. I thought the weak bladder portion of a pregnancy came further down the road. At least, that’s what I’ve seen on TV. What kind of person gets their sex education from the television? That would be me.
Placing my napkin next to my plate, I rise from the table, feeling a bit wobbly. “I’m fine,” I say as Nick begins to rise. “I just have to use the restroom. I’ll be right back.”
The three men in tuxedos standing against the railing watch in confusion as I walk past them toward the back of the sailboat. One of them says something to me in Spanish as he follows me, but I just ignore him. I have to pee. I don’t have time for translations.