“¿Pero qué es esto?” Vicente blustered.
“This is me showing you the door,” Patricio growled.
Catalina scurried behind them, having grabbed Vicente’s Stetson off the breakfast bar.
“You asked about the show in Vegas, and I said no. You wanted to meet Catalina, and you have. Ahora . . .” Patricio drew to a halt at the front door. “Now, we need to get back to work.”
Vicente huffed his disapproval. He made a show of straightening his shirt, tucking it in, and making sure none of the snap buttons had come undone.
Catalina held out his hat. “No offense intended, Vicente. But my parents have also taught me that respect goes both ways. I look forward to writing a song for you, someday. And I do appreciate you coming to meet me.”
Without waiting for him to respond, Catalina rose up on her toes and pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek.
“Dios lo bendiga,” she murmured.
Vicente repeated the common “God bless you” farewell, probably more out of habit, based on his confused frown.
Patricio didn’t even bother with a goodbye. He dipped his chin at his father, who responded likewise. Then, after a stern glance from Patricio to Catalina, Vicente left without another word.
The door closed behind him with a metallic click of the latch. Patricio twisted the dead bolt for good measure. Catalina stood beside him, her eyes wide, questions looming in them like the dark clouds that had rolled in earlier. With his father gone, the tension that had been building inside Patricio, stretching his patience like a balloon threatening to pop, slowly eased away.
Normally, he felt browbeaten and worn after time in Vicente’s company. Today . . . today his anger was tinted with hope, thanks to Catalina. Before he thought twice about it, Patricio clasped her hand and tugged her to him.
She came willingly, slipping her arms around his waist and laying her head on the front of his shoulder. He wrapped her in his arms, palms splayed on her back to press her closer.
“You were amazing,” he whispered.
“Amazing’s kinda my MO.”
He chuckled, and she burrowed deeper in his embrace. Her nose dipped under the material of his linen shirt to brush his bare skin. Desire sparked through him, swift and hot. His left hand slid higher to caress the smooth skin above the edge of her bodice. Slow, languid brushes that teased him with the need to touch more of her.
“It was gutsy, standing up to him like that,” he said. “Few have ever had my back the way you did. Gracias.”
“Anytime, partner.”
He hugged her tightly, knowing he shouldn’t relish how perfectly she fit against him. The way her soft curves melded to his. The heady aphrodisiac of her scent filling his lungs.
Just a few minutes. That’s all he wanted. What could one hug hurt?
Then she lifted her head and gazed up at him. Her arms tightened around his waist. Desire turned her hazel irises to burnished gold, and he lost the battle with temptation.
Slowly, he dipped his head, giving her time to back away. Say no. Stop him. Instead, she craned her neck, tipping her chin to angle her mouth toward his. Her eyes fluttered closed. And he finally . . . finally . . . tasted the sweetness of her lips.
Chapter Sixteen
She’d meant to simply offer him some comfort. That’s all.
But the moment Cat laid her head on Patricio’s chest, touched his warm skin with her nose and cheek, she knew she was fooling herself. A platonic hug wasn’t going to be enough.
Then he went and called her amazing. Thanked her for having his back, even though his father had been an ass and no way in hell could she have stayed silent.
Then his fingers had caressed the skin along her upper back, and desire furled low in her belly. Ribbons of heat and need spiraled through her until she thought she might combust.
Easing back, she looked up at him. Maybe one kiss. One taste of his mouth would assuage the lust quickening her pulse.
An echoing desire flared in his dark eyes, heightening her need for him, and she tightened her hold around his waist. As if he understood, his head lowered, slowly coming closer.
¡Sí! The word echoed in her mind in the seconds before she closed her eyes and gave herself up to the moment.
His lips touched hers. Warm. Gentle. A soft brush of skin to skin. She gasped, and the sound lit a fuse that ignited between them.
His mouth crushed hers. Their kiss was frantic. Tongues licking and tasting. Lips devouring. Teeth nibbling. His hands were in her hair, cradling her nape, angling her head so he could take more, give more.
Her fingers explored the muscles along his broad back through his linen shirt. Eager to feel his bare skin, she felt for the shirt buttons. In no time they were undone, the material falling open. She skimmed her hands over his pecs, along his washboard abs, then up to push his shirt off his shoulders. He released her long enough to let the material slide down his arms to the tile floor, then pulled her close again, his mouth seeking hers.
She moaned with pleasure, and his tongue swept into her mouth, tangling with hers. Savoring, caressing, teasing. He broke their kiss to gently scrape his teeth on the curve of her chin. Soothed it with a swipe of his tongue. Then he blazed a delectable trail of nibbling kisses down her neck, along her clavicle, to the cleavage straining at the top of her bodice as her chest heaved with her quickening breath. She arched her back, her body begging for more of his exploration. Her breasts aching for his lips.
“Eres tan bella,” he murmured, his breath warm on her skin.
“You make me feel beautiful,” she told him, gasping with pleasure as his mouth closed over her right breast, suckling her nipple through the thin cotton of her dress. Unencumbered by a bra, the nipple swelled, pebbling at his heated ministrations. His hand cupped her other breast, kneading and massaging, his thumb flicking over her nipple in delicious swoops that sent pleasure arrowing to her sex.
She dug her hands in his thick hair, gasping as lust swept over her. He continued lavishing her breasts with attention, and she pressed her pelvis against him, eager to satisfy the desire pulsing between her legs. His rigid hardness throbbed along her lower belly. Reaching down, she covered him with a hand. He groaned and bucked into her palm.
His hands moved to cup her jaw, and he took her mouth again in a greedy kiss.
“I want you so bad,” he growled, nipping her lower lip with his teeth, then caressing it with his tongue.
“Yes,” she murmured, pressing her hand against his hard cock.
Suddenly he bent and slipped an arm behind her knees, scooping her off her feet. She clasped her hands around his neck, taking advantage of her position to trace the shell of his ear with her nose. Following the same path with her tongue before sucking his soft lobe into the warmth of her mouth.
Patricio strode to the leather couch, where he laid her down, then sat on the edge of the bubble cushion near her hip. Gently, he combed her hair off her forehead, tucking it behind her ear.
“So soft,” he whispered. “So beautiful.”
He trailed a finger along her jaw, continuing the sensual path to outline her lips. Opening her mouth, she drew his fingertip into her warmth. She bit the fleshy pad, then laved it with her tongue.
He stared down at her, his lips kiss swollen. His eyes dark pools of desire. His pants tented with his arousal. She placed her hand over him, and his erection throbbed against her palm, making her grow wet with her own arousal. Her body craved his; there was no longer any use denying it.