Page 86 of Better Late Than Never

“Sure.” He shrugged. “I’ve bought a few pieces. They’re not as fragile as they look, and they’re usually packed within an inch of their lives.”

There was that—I’d bought a small plate to send to my mother, and the shopkeeper had wrapped it up like it was about to get thrown off a cliff.

I glanced at the time. We had about ten minutes before siesta kicked off, so I quickly picked out a miniature terra cotta tagine and took it up to the counter. As predicted, the shopkeeper packed it meticulously in paper, bubble wrap, and a small box; I’d have toworkat it to break it on the way home.

Satisfied that Savannah’s gift was safely packed, I left the shop with Alex, and the shopkeeper lowered the gate right behind us. All around us, other shops were closing up, too. Tourists were meandering toward cafés or back to the Mezquita (which may or may not have been open during siesta; I hadn’t looked).

I followed Alex around a corner off the main drag. Now we were on a street that was probably too narrow for a car and was currently deserted apart from a couple of shopkeepers pulling down their gates.

I was about to ask him where he thought we should go next when he suddenly had his arm around my waist and his lips pressed to mine.

And the whole world came to a gentle stop beneath my feet.

For a few perfect seconds, I was aware of absolutely nothing except Alex and how much I loved the way his mouth moved so perfectly with mine. It wasn’t a deep kiss. Not the kind we shared in the bedroom when the doors were closed and the clothes were off. But it was still sexy and hot in its own way.

All too quickly, even though it felt like we’d been lost in that moment for ages, Alex broke the kiss, and he met my gaze.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I’ve just… been wanting to do that all morning.”

I blinked. Then I tugged him in a little closer, and as our lips brushed, I said, “Don’t apologize.”

I kissed him, and we let it linger for a long, perfect moment before we separated as gently as we’d come together. When he looked in my eyes, I could still see his despite his sunglasses, and they weren’t as full of fire as I’d expected. Instead, they were soft and sweet, as was his little smile.

My heart did things it hadneverdone before.

Oh my God, I am so stupid for you.

Alex ran his tongue along the inside of his lip, and now I could see the embers of lust in his eyes. “I’ve, uh… I’ve got an idea about how we can spend siesta. Since, you know…” He circled his finger in the air. “Everything’s closed.”

“Oh, yeah?” I grinned. “What did you have in mind?”

As if I needed to ask.

CHAPTER28

ALEX

The August heat had us both sweaty and disgusting by the time we made it back to the hotel, but a shower—a long, shared shower—took care of that in short order. It also made for some very sexy foreplay; I swear, there was never going to come a time when I got tired of making out with Connor and turning him on until he was trembling and begging.

We stopped kissing and pawing at each other long enough to dry off. Then he led me out of the bathroom and pulled me down onto the bed, and we were off and running again. His hands slid all over my skin as if he were memorizing me. In the beginning, I’d assumed he was simply indulging in the novelty of being with a man. More and more, I thought this was just the way he was—so deliciously tactile.

He didn’t just touch and feel me with his hands, either. Every time we landed in bed together, I was treated to this man’s eager, explorative mouth. Had I just been with a string of guys who didn’t spend enough time kissing my neck? Or was this something Connor in particular loved to do? Either way, he never missed an opportunity to let his lips skate up and down the sides of my throat, pausing to nibble my earlobe or my collarbone, or press a kiss beneath my jaw. Despite his recent inexperience, he was completely confident about giving head, and his ministrations on the waydownfrom my neck always had me trembling and gasping before he even touched my dick.

And once hedidreach my dick…

“God, Connor…” I ran shaky fingers through his damp hair, careful not to push his head down. “Fuck, yeah…”

He groaned low in his throat, the vibration thrumming against my sensitive skin, and I had to bite back a cry that probably would’ve carried through the whole hotel. Some people did actually nap during siesta, and my few remaining functional brain cells at least tried not to disturb anyone.

It wasn’t easy, though. Staying quiet and considerate was a chore and a half with Connor’s tongue working that mind-blowing magic from the base all the way to the head of my cock. And then he fluttered his tongue over my balls, and I almost came unglued.

“Fucking hell, baby,” I said on a groan. “That is so—Jesus!” I almost levitated off the bed as he did it again. “You are so damn good at that.”

He licked his way up to the head again, then swirled his tongue around, driving a whimper out of me. I inadvertently tightened my fingers in his hair, and for a second, I thought he wouldn’t like that. Instead, he moaned again, so I experimentally did it a little harder.

Oh, hell. He liked that. He liked it a lot.

And every sound he made reverberated along all my hypersensitive nerve endings, turning me into a mess of bliss and heat, which only made me grip his hair tighter.

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