Page 119 of On The Rocks

“Hey, I don’t get to see?”

“Nope.” He took it with him as he headed to our room of the suite.

I laughed and found another domed plate with fries that were still semi-hot. I munched on a few before looking through my bag for something to wear tonight.

It was a humid night, so I went with one of the caftan style outfits I had in black with tan flowers. It had a large slit up one side that showed off a leg. I was stepping into heeled sandals when he came through the door with a plume of steam behind him.

“Forgot something.” He had a towel knotted at his hip, water still dripping from his hair. He dug something out of his bag and looked up. “Hell.”

I grinned. “Like?” I swung around, making sure the slit showed.

“Damn.” He strode across the room and kissed me—hard. His green eyes were glowing with lust. “Sure we need to go out?”

I pushed him back. “Yes.”

“Man.” He shook his head then he ran back to our bedroom with socks and boxers in hand.

He was back out in ten minutes and I was the one with a racing heart. He had on black linen pants and a Cuban-style shirt in thick vertical blocks of red and black.

I dropped the fry I was about to eat and stood. “Now I get to say damn.”

He grinned and did a little twirl as I did with a laugh.

I shook my head, but I couldn’t stop the smile. “Now we’re definitely ready to hit the town.”

I had a small wristlet in my big hobo bag with my license, a card, and cash, allowing us to go out with little baggage. Downstairs, we ended up walking out to the beach. There were a few places I wanted to see in this area.

I was semi-knowledgeable about Miami from working there for a few years, but it was an ever-changeable town. We walked hand in hand through the tourist trap-style shops then into the winding bazaar booths with jewelry and beach clothing. I ended up with a paisley sarong to go with my black bikini as well as a kitchy shell necklace that he wound around my neck.

At the end of the booths, there was a taco truck that filled the hole beyond our fries, and finally, we’d made it back down by the shoreline.

It was a weeknight, but in Miami,everynight was busy. The crush of people was different than the taproom. There was an ultra sexual undertone to Miami, and Griffin was ready to throw a punch with how handsy men were around me.

I knew it was the culture and the liquor. Eventually, I just pushed him onto a dance floor with swaying hips and a sultry smile. I much preferred his big, rough hands on me. The music was just a pulse and drumbeat. The words in Spanish didn’t really matter, it was all about the music.

He swayed against me, slipping a knee between my legs until we were perfectly lined up.

I draped my arms over his shoulders and lifted my mouth to his. The kiss was as hot and fluid as the music around us. He hummed into my mouth, and it ended in a growl.

Knowing how much he wanted me always shocked me.

Sex was fun, but it had never been like it was with Griffin. Like it was air and nourishment as much as it was pleasure. As if he was everything I’d never known I wanted.

I tore my mouth from his, my chest heaving as the reality of it hit me like a bottle to the head. The training and the endless practice didn’t matter sometimes.

Sometimes it was a moment when a flourish failed, and sometimes it was when it was completely perfect.

He dragged me back and covered my mouth.

This was the perfect.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and fell into him.

Fell into love.

He lifted me up until I braced myself on his shoulders and my hair fell around him. I let the emotion flow through me into him and my belly jittered with the fear, but he only held me tighter.

And didn’t let me go.

---