I swished my cup around, sloshing the tequila to start it spinning in a tiny whirlpool. “I’d say you’re probably right.” I held Tamir’s gaze and lifted my cup. “To all our dirty little secrets.”
The next hour was a blur.
I was heavy-handed with the tequila, even for me, and quickly started feeling the effects. Our conversation, thankfully, returned to the shallows, which was where we found ourselves at almost four in the afternoon, arguing over the likelihood of a South American versus European champion in the upcoming World Cup.
“Spain can do it. I’m telling you. This is going to be their year.” Tamir pointed across the table at me, elbows planted as he leaned into his argument.
“Don’t be absurd,” I scoffed, a Spanish accent coloring my words. “France is favored to win, but even if they don’t, Brazil will win over Spain.”
My father was passionate about soccer. We were never particularly close, but we were able to connect over his love of the game. I adored watching games with him, decked out in our Mexico jerseys, regardless of who was playing. Mexico was always our favorite when it came to international teams. Should Mexico be out of the running, we cheered for the Central and South American teams over European. It was a matter of Latin pride.
“Eh, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he grumbled, waving his hand flippantly in my direction. He’d had just as much tequila as me, if not more. I gave him props for being able to handle his liquor, but a person could only do so much before the tequila took over.
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those men who can’t stand to lose to a woman.” I stood from my chair, entirely too unsteady to pull off my desired level of coyness.
Tamir swiftly rose, looking far more surefooted than he should have been. He slowly closed the distance between us, his wolfish grin making my drunk heart flutter against my ribs. “I wouldn’t know. It’s never happened before.”
I threw my head back in a fit of laughter and would have ended up on the floor had two strong hands not steadied me. I gasped, and my gaze snapped back to his. All humor had fled from his eyes, leaving unadulterated lust in its wake.
He walked me backward, hands still fixed around my upper arms, until my back was pressed firmly against the wall.
“What are you doing?” I didn’t need to ask. A devout nun could have felt the waves of desire rolling off Tamir. But his actions caught me off guard. He was a study in discipline and self-control, but at that moment, he looked almost feral. A man who had surrendered to his basic instincts.
“I’m crossing that fucking line we’ve been dancing around for days—weeks even. That’s what this was about, wasn’t it? The tequila? You needed something to blame when you let go and gave in to this maddening pull between us.”
A vicious defense bubbled up in my throat but never made it past my lips. Down in my gut, despite the small reservoir of tequila attempting to drown the truth, I knew he was right. If I was being brutally honest with myself, this was exactly what I’d wanted, needed. To let go of my fears. To set aside my doubts. To stop fighting the magnetic chemistry that popped and sizzled between us.
But I hated the way it sounded. That I’d used liquor to get him into bed as if I didn’t have the courage on my own. I didn’t want to admit to being so needy. So manipulative or brazen.
“You’re twisting my intent. I wanted to relax and forget my troubles for an evening. My sole purpose wasn’t to get you in bed.”
In an instant, he flipped me around to face the wall. My hands came up, pressing flat on either side of me, and a gasp slipped from between my lips.
His hard body caged me in, and I could feel his engorged length pressing into the curves of my bottom. “So, you weren’t hoping I’d do something like this?” The seductive, quivering heat of his breath danced along my bare neck before his teeth sank in and ignited all of my delicate nerve endings.
My addled brain attempted to compose an objection, but I could only vocalize a ragged moan. His touch turned me into a willing slave to the sensations he stirred inside me. And when he gently soothed my burning skin with the caress of his lips, my body arched of its own volition, pressing back into his hard length.
“Look at you.” He groaned, his firm hands digging into my waist, holding me immobile against him. “You’re sex incarnate, dripping seduction to distract a man beyond reason. But then what, my little Venus flytrap? What happens once you have them in your clutches?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My reply was breathy as I struggled to wade through the thick waters of lust and intoxication.
His hand slid from my waist up to my breast, massaging and kneading, before pinching my nipple with just the right amount of delicious force. “Don’t play coy. It doesn’t suit you.”
A rush of anger electrified my blood and briefly burned through the haze fogging my thoughts. I pressed against the wall, launching myself backward and freeing myself from his grasp. “I’m not playing coy, and I don’t know what you’re insinuating. Yes, I was interested in being with you, but not if you’re going to degrade me and suggest I’m something that I’m not.” I retreated until my legs bumped against the bed, but my body still pulsed with awareness for him. My pebbled nipples ached for the return of his touch, and my panties were embarrassingly wet. His provocative touch and god-like body were hard to resist, but I had just enough wherewithal to remember my dignity.
A normal man would have seen my anger and backed down—offered apologies and fed me banal platitudes—but not Tamir. He wasn’t just a man; he was a predator. With the prowess of a jungle cat, he stalked toward me and invaded my personal space, denying me free thought with his intoxicating presence. When he was close enough that I could breathe in the masculine scent of his skin, he clasped his large hand under my chin and lifted my face to his.
“You are too fine a work of art to degrade. Would it be degrading to praise a fox for its ability to hunt? You’re just as clever and far more beautiful, and you have the survival instincts to match the most majestic of creatures.” His lips seized mine, possessing me with unabashed hunger.
The offense I’d felt seconds before disintegrated beneath the crushing desire he stirred inside me. I willfully surrendered to the electric current that sparked so fiercely between us.
His velvet tongue danced around mine, licking me and drawing me further into his thrall. When I followed his lead and lost myself to the rhythm, a guttural rumble vibrated up from his chest and stole my remaining breath.
I could feel his control slipping, and that knowledge was the headiest aphrodisiac imaginable. His hands wandered my body while his kisses devoured me until I had to pull away to fill my burning lungs with air. Both our chests rose and fell in a chaotic struggle for control, drawing my eyes down to the broad expanse of his pectorals.
My hand rose unbidden, drawn to the contours of the masculine body hinted at beneath his shirt. Needing to feel the dips and valleys for myself, I slipped my hand beneath his shirt, mapping out the sheer perfection of his body as if committing it to memory.
In a flash, he swept the shirt up and over his head, treating me to an unobstructed view of his perfect torso. He was breathtaking. Even his scars added to his perfection.