She leaned toward him with imploring eyes. “I didn’t care about what you had or what you didn’t have. As far as I was concerned, there was no difference between us.”
“That’s idealistic.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is. There were six of us living in a two-bedroom apartment. Do you know how embarrassed I was to have you see my home and learn about our living conditions?”
His upbringing was never far from his mind, and to this day, he still lived life simply, careful with his money, budgeting and saving because he didn’t have a steady paycheck and never knew when it could all go away.
“I didn’t care about your living conditions,” Carmen said in a dull voice.
“But I cared.”
She pushed away her plate as if she suddenly found the food distasteful. “We’re talking in circles. We’ve had these conversations before. I can’t help who my family is, and neither can you. Just admit you didn’t want to be with me, because everything else you’ve said are excuses, and you know it.”
“They’re not excuses. I couldn’t offer you anything, and I needed to work and prove to myself I could succeed doing the work I love.”
She glanced away from him to the night outside. A muscle flexed in her jawline. When she looked at him again, there were tears in her eyes. “Did you love me?”
“More than anything else in the world,” Carlos answered immediately in a thick voice.
“What’s to stop us from being together now? You’ve proven yourself. You’re successful.”
“I’m not where I want to be.”
“And where do you want to be?”
“In a place where money doesn’t matter. A millionaire, maybe?”
“And if that’s not in the cards for you?”
He shook his head and swallowed. “I don’t know.”
An uncomfortable silence settled over the table, and he didn’t know what to say to fix the awkwardness.
Carmen stared at the empty space her plate previously occupied. “Thank you for dinner, but it’s time I head out. I’m going to call a cab and go back to Nat’s.” Her chair scraped back on the tile floor, and she stood.
She moved quickly, and Carlos scrambled from his seat and caught her halfway to the door. He pulled her back into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her. Closing his eyes, he rested his cheek against hers and inhaled the sweet, rosy scent of her skin.
“Don’t go.” He would drop to his knees and beg if he needed to.
She hung her head, but the tension slowly eased from her body and she relaxed into him. When he was certain she wouldn’t bolt, Carlos turned her around to face him.
“How much longer will you be here in Atlanta?”
“I leave the middle of next week.”
Mierda. That wasn’t much time.
“Spend some of that time with me.”
“Why should I?”
He threaded their fingers together and pulled her against him. “Because I’m asking.” He lifted one of her hands and kissed the knuckles. “I want to keep talking to you, and I haven’t shown you my work yet. I want you to see them.”
“I would like to see your paintings,” she said cautiously.
“Come on. Let me show you some of my completed projects.”
He continued to hold her hand as they walked to the area where he worked. Now that he was touching her, he didn’t want to let go. He felt comfortable like that, and clearly so did she.
“Stay right here.” He went to the wall, picked up one of the canvases, and turned it around to face her. “This was a commissioned piece.”
“It’s gorgeous,” she whispered.
They continued in the same vein with the others. He showed her a work of art, and then he explained the story behind it. She listened attentively. If she was bored with his explanations, she didn’t let on. She asked questions, and more than once they laughed out loud together.
Finally, he opened the closet and pulled out the three paintings he’d kept for last.
Carmen gasped. She looked from the paintings to his face and back again. “That’s me,” she said.
“You were always on my mind, Carmen.”
A sad little smile slipped across her lips. “And you were always on mine.”
He guided her over to the living room sofa in front of the TV and showed her a portfolio filled with pictures of his paintings. They sipped wine and chatted about his work and hers. They shared funny stories from the past and caught up on the current events in each other’s lives.
Their camaraderie reminded him of how they used to be, before their relationship fell apart. Before he thought it was better to leave her behind.
Before he’d made the biggest mistake of his life.
6
Carmen slowly woke up, and a few seconds passed before she became oriented to her surroundings. The street lights contributed their brilliance through the windows to the interior of the dark loft. Carlos had one arm around her, holding her close to his side.
They’d fallen asleep watching a movie.
He was still asleep, his Adam’s apple sticking out as his head rested on the back of the sofa. She studied him—the hard jawline, the large, straight nose, and the sort of casual sexiness he wore in every act, even while he slept.
Speaking of which, how long had they been asleep? She looked around but couldn’t find a clock, and her phone lay face down on the coffee table.
Her gaze traveled the length of Carlos’s body and stopped at his lap. He may be asleep, but his body wasn’t. Not if his tented slacks were any indication. His left hand twitched against her arm, and his body tensed, chest going up and down a little faster. He must be dreaming—maybe about her?
Knowing that she might be the reason for his arousal excited her. Carlos groaned and shifted, and then his eyes flew open. He blinked rapidly several times, as if trying to determine if he really saw her or was dreaming.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi.”
“You were dreaming.”
He swallowed. “Yeah.”
“About me?”
Stillness filled the air as he paused, eyes intently focused on her face. “Yeah.”
Carmen eased her hand down his chest to the front of his pants. Carlos took a deep breath, but he didn’t stop her. Her hand massaged his hard length through his clothes while his jaw hardened with the tension exerted to remain still.
“What were you thinking about?” Carmen asked.
“I think you know,” he answered in a strained voice.
The same thing she was. Seeing him again made her emotional and long to be closer. Maintaining eye contact, she eased from under his arm and lowered to the floor.
“Carmen, you don’t have to do that,” he said, but didn’t sound very convincing.
“I want to.” She loved giving head—to him. Damn near salivated at the thought of having that pleasure again—the weight against her tongue, the width of him stretching the corners of her lips tight.
His face twisted into a brief grimace, as if her actions would bring him pain instead of pleasure.
Carefully, she unfastened the button on his pants. As she lowered the zipper, he stopped breathing completely and his fingers curled into fists beside his thighs.