Page 50 of Jessica, Not Her Real Name
The kiss grew hotter and more urgent. He sat up and took a condom from the beer crate and put it on. Then he sat up against the wall and pulled her onto his lap. She braced her hands on the wall on either side of his head and slid down, taking him fully inside with a soft moan. He gripped her hips and rocked her flush against him. His mouth was on her neck, his tongue branding her skin with its heat. Their bodies intertwined so seamlessly, it was hard to believe they served any other purpose than to be joined like this.
When she came, it was like coming apart and the only thing holding her together was him.
* * *
Sunlight pierced through the thin curtains, draping across her face. Julia stirred but didn’t move, letting herself sink into the moment. She thought about the last time she had woken up in Daniel’s trailer—how it had felt like clawing her way out of a nightmare, only to realize she was still trapped inside it.
This time, she felt like she had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t still dreaming.
She turned her head toward him.
Daniel slept on his stomach, sprawled across the bed, taking up just as much space unconscious as he did awake. One arm was flung over the sheets, the other tucked beneath the pillow. The broad, muscular expanse of his back was half-covered by the crumpled sheet, his tanned skin smooth except for the faint scars and tattoos she was beginning to recognize as intimately as she knew her own reflection.
He was beautiful. Almost unbearably so.
She reached out and traced the scar on his temple, running her thumb lightly over the jagged line that disappeared into his dark hair. Then she smoothed her finger over the tiny cross tattooed on his cheekbone.
His lips curled into a lazy smile before he even opened his eyes. He made a low, sleepy sound and rolled onto his back, stretching, then lacing his hands behind his head. His dark eyes met hers, warm with amusement.
“Morning,bonita.”
She smiled back, propping herself up on her elbow. The trailer was dim, the air thick with the lingering scent of sleep, sex, and him.
Daniel made a satisfied sound and rolled toward her, reaching out.
She scooted back. “I gotta brush my teeth before you even think about kissing me.”
Before he could catch her, she slipped out of bed, scooping up her camisole and panties from the floor. She pulled them on as she grabbed her makeup bag and disappeared into the tiny bathroom.
She rinsed her face, then brushed her teeth with the spare toothbrush she had stashed in her bag. When she came out, he brushed past her, taking his turn.
While he was in the bathroom, she wandered into the little kitchenette. Opening the cupboard, she found the sum total of his dishware: one mug, a couple of glasses, one bowl, one plate. His pantry was even more depressing—a jar of instant coffee, an unopened box of Rice Krispies. She checked the fridge. A carton of juice. A six-pack ofSol Cerveza.
Clearly, he ate most of his meals at Martín’s.
What he lacked in human food, though, he made up for in dog food. A full twenty-five pound sack of chow sat in the corner, like Tequila was the only one around here getting three square meals a day.
Daniel came up behind her, sliding an arm around her waist and tugging her back against him. His other hand pushed her hair aside, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just below her ear.
“I gotta go to work soon,” he murmured, voice still thick with sleep. “But I was kinda hoping we could go back to bed for a bit.”
She smiled over her shoulder. “And how am I getting home?”
His mouth skimmed lower, pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses down her neck. “I’ll take you home. Unless…” He grazed her skin with his teeth, then soothed the spot with his tongue.
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Unless…?”
His lips found the shell of her ear. “Unless you wanna stay here. Forever.”
She laughed softly. “Stay here? Forever? With you and your one bowl and your one box of Rice Krispies?” She reached out, pulled open a drawer, and laughed again. “And your one spoon.”
His hands flattened against her stomach, smoothing over her skin. “We can share.”
She chuckled, and he squeezed her tighter. The heat of his bare chest seeped into her back.
“I can’t tell if you’re joking or serious,” she murmured.
She angled her head, trying to catch his expression—just like she had the day before, when he told her he loved her.
