Club Alpha (23 page)

I breathe through my excitement. “I haven't said yes.”

Paco gives a slight smile, setting the empty box back on the handrail. “Your face does, Greta.”

And he's right.

A stiff breeze suddenly tips the box. It tumbles to the sea below, but I'm safe. Paco wraps his arms around my body, tugging me against him. We’re back to the first position—one of contentment, peace… and love.

“He what?!” Gia screams into the phone.

I pull my cell away from my ear. “You know, you're not very calm. You're supposed to be the calm one.” I say the words without emotion, but inside, my guts are roadkill.

“Uh-huh. You're making me insane.”

I notice Gia doesn't say
crazy
.

“Right, and you weren't sure if me coming to stay with Paco for three months was a great idea.”

I tilt my cell, looking at her irritated expression.

Facetime is a beautiful thing.

“It's not that I thought it was a
bad
idea. Just that so much had occurred, it might be too much for you—”

“It is,” I say softly.

Gia studies my expression. “What are you saying?”

“I have trust issues.”

“Of course, anyone would.”

“Paco knows that.”

Gia nods. “He proposed so you'd feel safe.”

“Unpressured.”

She gazes down, her lip caught between her teeth, curly hair falling around her like a curtain. “Do you think he—”

“Oh yes. I do. I want to sleep with him.” I add softly, “Badly.” Heat floods my face.

She whistles. “That's
good
, Greta. Does he?”

“Want to have sex with me?” I laugh. “Absolutely.”

“I have a confession.”

“Oh boy.”

She nods. “I am the psychologist who was responsible for the foundation questions in Club Alpha's questionnaire.”

“Maybe I'm slow…” I ask, confused.

“What I'm saying is, I trust Zaire. He used much of what makes me an insightful psychologist to choose possible… candidates.”

I pop my hand on my hip. “So all this blustering about Paco? What you're saying, in essence, is you hand-picked him?”

“Not exactly.”

I shake my head, the phone shooting around. I steady it. “But I'm pretty close. You came up with the meat of the questions. He and I were compatible, and Zaire used the top picks for the game?”

“That's greatly simplified, but yes.”

“So Paco's a great man. I didn't need a test, or a game, to know that.”

He saved me.

He comes to my room when I scream with night terrors. Paco has never taken anything from me. He only gives.

“Greta.”

My face jerks up, and her grainy image stares back at me. She seems to decide something. “If there was ever such a thing as a soul mate, Paco is yours.”

My lips part.

Gia waits, no doubt knowing I'm thinking.

“I don't want to wait for the wedding.”

Gia can't hide her grin. “Go get him, horndog.”

“That's very un-doctorly of you.”

“Sometimes clinical doesn't work. You have to be willing to adapt, be flexible. Be human.”

I feel myself still. Finally, I reply.

“I know.”

Forever is Now

I'm so nervous.

Any woman would be. The first time a woman gives herself to a man is something that can't ever be undone.

I'm clear on one thing. I was a virgin almost three years ago. I'd let my university studies take precedence over romance. I was waiting until I was in a better place.

And that never came.

Now it has.

Paco is here. I swirl the huge vivid-blue heart-shaped diamond around on my finger, enjoying its heft, sparkle, and color.
To match my eyes
, Paco said.

I haven't bothered to make myself too sexy. After living with Paco, I know that he likes me as I am. My hair is loose. I haven't worn braids since I came to stay with him. Wearing a fitted nightgown is my only concession for tonight.

He's unaware of my new mindset. Paco knows only that he's marrying me in two weeks. It's all beautifully arranged—and paparazzi free. The hounds of the press will be kept at bay for our nuptials.

I take a huge breath. I hold it… then let it out painfully. I stand, leave my bedroom behind, and walk quietly to his. I stand outside his door, my hand on the solid cedar, high-gloss surface.

I open it quietly and step inside.

At first, he doesn't know I've entered, and I pause at the sight. Paco lays on his bed, one arm tucked behind his head, staring out at the star-encrusted night, moonlight bathing every sculpted inch of him.

He is nude.

I swallow my trepidation.

His head turns, and he regards me standing there. Paco doesn't cover himself or move in any way.

“Greta,” he calls out in soft surprise, his rich baritone colored by an accent that I’ve noticed crops up when emotions flavor his speech.

I don't cry. I don't run. I walk to the edge of his bed instead. My gaze wanders over every inch of him. When I reach his penis, it begins to grow under my stare.

“I cannot help my reaction,” he says quietly.

“I don't want you to.” I meet his gaze head on, and he sits up, swinging his legs to the edge of the bed.

Paco breathes deeply then stands. The moonlight caresses him, washing over his lithe body, gracefully walking toward me. His erection bobs slightly as he comes to me, and my breath catches.

I never knew that a penis could be beautiful. That part of a man's body was always tied to pain.

“Yes,” I say.

“You do not have to do this. We will marry in two weeks.” His eyes search mine as my touch lands on the most sensitive part of him.

Paco hisses, heat replacing his gentleness. “I am a patient man, Greta, but your hand is on me.”

I nod. “I want this.” I squeeze him.

The walls of his demeanor crumbles. All that buried passion and patience leaves him.

He yanks me against him, crashing his lips against mine, and I groan as his tongue sinks deep, caressing the inside of my mouth. Paco's hands move everywhere there is skin to be touched. A man starving for food could not be more ravenous than he is.

I love it.

I fear it.

My nightgown sails over my head in a whisper of cloth. My eyes are tightly clenched as I wait for fingers to probe, pierce—and penetrate. Instead, the light touch of a finger skates over my collarbone, and the breath I didn’t realize I’d held eases out.

My eyes open.

Paco stares at me, his fingertips flowing back and forth over the narrow bone at my neck.

He leans close. One hand moves to my nape, continuing the gentle caress. He kisses my forehead, then his lips trail to my temple, cheekbone, and the tip of my nose.

When he reaches my lips, he feasts on the flesh, sucking, nipping, and gently biting every plump rise. “I want you,” he says, and my head tips back as he catches it with his palm. “But at your pace.”

I nod. I can't speak. Fear recedes, and the natural passion between us begins to burn like a stoked fire. He lifts me tightly against him, effortlessly gliding us to the bed.

Paco lays me down.

I fight not to cover myself as his gaze takes me in. He's seen me naked before—on that horrible night. But somehow, right now, with his bright eyes and loving hands, I feel nude instead of naked.

Loved.

He arranges my hair in a fan beneath my head then lays my arms away from my body.

He crawls over the top of me. My eyes move to his stiffness, and he hesitates.

“Don't stop,” I say, and he takes me at my word.

Paco leans over me and kisses my hands, palm facing the ceiling. His lips grace each fingertip before moving to the bend of my elbow then my chest.

When he is seated between my legs, he bows his body over mine, takes my hardened nipple between his lips, his large hand cupping my breast, and squeezes the flesh into his mouth.

I arch my back. The sensation of being pleasured is too much. I groan, and he sucks harder. Little threads of arousal pull from deep inside me, tugging at my core with each draw of his mouth on my nipple.

He moves to the other side and lavishes the same attention on my left breast. When his hand touches my mound, I suck in a breath. Paco's eyes roll to mine, but he doesn't stop, sinking a finger inside me. It is the very thing I fantasized about when I was envisioning him fingering me. “Yes?” his question is spoken softly.
Is this okay?

“Yes,” I answer just as quietly.

His finger moves in and out of me in a slow pump. He moves my legs apart slowly, and it feels natural. Hot.

I spread them wider, allowing him better access to the center of me.

“Greta,” he moans against my neck, kissing softly, “you are too beautiful for words. Your body is made for mine.”

I agree without words, pulling him against me, but he resists. “Not yet.”

I lift my head, staring at him between my legs.

His eyes move to my splayed folds.

Oh.

I'm instantly self-conscious, until he gives a smile full of raw need.
He wants this.
Paco puts his hand on my stomach and, with a nod, dives below.

I expect something harsh and penetrating. It's my only point of reference. But his hot breath at my entrance warms me.

That is all.

Then the softest stroke of his tongue slowly licks up one side of my labia, crossing a path of wetness over my clit, and I shudder. He pauses at my reaction, inserting his finger again, and my hips come off the bed.

“Oh, God,” I breathe in surprised wonder.

His tongue glides down the other side, and my palms hit the sides of the bed as fingertips sink into the sheets. I whip my head back and forth when his tongue inches inside.

Before I can protest or analyze anything, his tongue begins to move in and out.

My hips meet his soft wet thrusts.

He tucks his hands beneath my hips and suddenly jerks me deeper into his face.

“Ah!” Pressure builds down low where his lips touch my flesh. I work my hips against him with abandon when the swelling feeling of hanging from a cliff stops.

Then I fall—crashing pleasure sweeps through my body, and his tongue eases, lapping against my entrance and running the length to the small bundle of nerves untouched before Paco's deft caress.

“Now,” he says softly as I begin to ease back into my body, the walls of my pussy still pulsing from the orgasm he just gave me.

Paco hovers above me in push-up position, and I give him a languid smile of permission. The tip of him inches slowly into me.

He's large, and I'm tight.

My eyes go wide, and he cages me with his arms, kissing me.

“Trust me, Greta.”

I widen my legs, tasting myself on his mouth, and go limp with desire. His mouth did that to me. Made me wet.

Made me
want
.

As I relax, he rocks deeper.

Then he's at my end. His face pulls away, and his lips lift, but he doesn't smile.

He waits.

“Yes,” I say.

Paco pulls out.

When he enters
me again, I throw my head back. It's so beautiful, so complete.

He owns me in the best way, with my desire, permission, and love.

I give back what he gives me, my hips rising to meet each gentle thrust.

His pacing becomes irregular, and I instinctively know he's close. Paco is waiting for me to catch up.

He rocks more deeply, touching the same spot up high again and again.

“Harder,” I say, feeling that same golden weight begin to build as it did earlier.

Paco draws back and slams into me.

I breathe against the memories—then meet his deep thrusting. This is mine.

Ours.

He pounds into me, and I meet every plunging bit of him. The orgasm takes me by surprise, and I shout out my pleasure.

“Greta,” Paco says in a strained voice.

My eyes open, and he's rigid above me, pumping all himself into me. Hot liquid fills me, and I milk him of every drop. We're frozen together, my pulses of pleasure eating up what he gives me.

Paco covers me with his body. I don't feel suffocated by the gesture. I feel cherished.

He lays within me until he grows too soft and slips out, barely rolling off me and to the side.

His fingers scatter the sweaty strands of my hair out of my face. “Are you okay?”

I stare up at the ceiling for a few seconds, letting Paco trace the contours of my face as he waits for my reply.

“I'm so all right.”

Paco leans over and kisses my tears. He knows the difference. He tells me happy tears taste different from sad ones.

I believe him.