Nacho Figueras Presents (4 page)

Enzo nodded. “Horses are good at that.”

“Anyway, one day, I couldn't stand it anymore. I wanted to ride her so much that it hurt, so I slipped under the barbed wire and came over to her side of the fence.”

Enzo chuckled. “Somehow I knew this part was coming.”

“She was a bit surprised, I think. And then even more surprised when I basically scrabbled up her back and grabbed hold of her mane. I'd never been on a horse. I had no idea what I was doing. But I was determined to try.”

“And she bucked you right off, correct?”

Noni grinned. “Close. She ran to the nearest tree and scraped me off. Knocked the wind right out of me.”

He laughed. “Of course.”

“But I didn't care. I got right back on. And then I fell off again. But then the next day I did it again. And again, and again, until I was finally able to keep my balance, and she finally let me stay on, and then I was really riding.”

She looked up at Enzo, smiling. “Oh, Enzo,” she breathed, “it was the best feeling. Bareback on a pony that you love. I felt like it just erased all the bad stuff in my life. I didn't worry about whether or not my mom had spent our grocery money on art supplies again or if the kids at school were going to notice that I was wearing the same outfit every day because I didn't have anything else. I didn't wonder why my father never came to see us. I didn't think about any of the stuff that I usually spent all my time worrying about, you know? I just…flew. I just flew away from all of that rotten stuff when I was on that little mare. She made everything okay.”

She shook her head, momentarily lost in the memory.

“And so, when my mom woke me up one night and told me to pack…I knew the drill, you know? I'd done it dozens of times before. Stay quiet, only take what could fit into our little car, and get out fast. But this time…I couldn't do it. I didn't want to leave. I panicked. When my mom went into her room to pack, I slipped out the door, in my nightgown, and ran down the road…”

She gulped, trying to hold the tears back.

“I still remember what it felt like. The road was so rough and warm under my bare feet. I fell down and skinned my knee and hands, but I got right back up. I didn't care. I just kept running until I reached the fence. I was so sure…so sure that the little mare would be there. I mean, it made absolutely no sense at all. It was the middle of the night. I just had it in my head that I would be able to say goodbye.”

Enzo tightened his grip.

She took a deep breath and nodded. “But of course she wasn't there. I stood there and called and called, thinking she'd hear me, but she didn't. I would have just stayed there until morning, waiting it out, but my mother came down the road in our car—everything all packed up, though God knows she left most of my stuff behind—and she told me to get in.

“I said no. She was totally shocked. I never said no to her. So she said it again. And again I said no. Then she got mad—like really mad—and she got out of the car and picked me up as I was kicking and screaming and threw me into the backseat and slammed the door behind me. I immediately scrabbled over and jumped out the other side and ran back to the fence.

“And my mom, she looked at me and she said, ‘Fine. You don't want to come with me? Then you can just stay here, goddammit.' She got into the car and drove away.”

Enzo made a soft sound of dismay.

Noni smiled ruefully. “I know. She was a shitty mom. She still kind of is. Anyway, I think she probably just went down the road to the nearest bar and had a drink—killed enough time to make sure I was good and scared. And I was. I was terrified. I forgot all about the horse and started sobbing in a blind panic. I honestly didn't think my mom was ever coming back. I didn't know what I was going to do if she didn't.”

Enzo drew her even closer. “
Querida
,” he said.

She held up a hand. “Wait,” she said. “Just listen. So I was standing there, on the side of the road, crying so hard I thought I was going to throw up, trying to see through the darkness, wondering if I should try and run after the car, when I felt a little nudge on my shoulder. I whirled around, thinking monsters and bears, but it was the mare. She'd found me. I slipped behind the fence and hugged her, and suddenly I didn't care if my mom came back or not. It was all okay again. I knew I'd be okay, too, you know? I knew that one way or the other, I'd figure something out.”

Enzo stiffened. “But your
madre
, she came back, right?”

“Yes, she came back. But not before I rode the mare one more time. Not before I had the chance to really say goodbye.”

She sighed.

“For years after, I would put myself to bed at night, no matter where I was, just by remembering how it felt to be on her back. That gait and sway, you know? I would just imagine myself riding in the desert sun on a slow walking horse, and I would be able to let go and finally sleep.”

They were silent for a moment, listening to the sounds from the street, the thumping bass coming from the nightclub. Suddenly Antonia realized just how long she had been in Enzo's arms. She looked up into his light brown eyes, watched them turn dark with something that she didn't entirely recognize.

“Antonia,” he murmured hoarsely.

“I…I…,” she stuttered, “I haven't been that happy since, Enzo. Not until—”

“You came here,” he finished for her.

She nodded, mesmerized by his sexy, generous mouth, by the way his strong arms were gripping her around the waist, his fingertips pressing softly into her flesh…

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to shake off the sudden wave of desire she felt crash over her. “Enzo?” she whispered.

“¿Sí, niña?”

She opened her eyes again. “I need your help with something.”

He smiled at her. “Anything.”

She looked up at him, nervous. Took a deep breath. “I want to play on the team,” she said in a rush.

He knit his eyebrows, confused. “You want to…?”

“Play polo. On La Victoria. They're going to have to replace Hendy. I want to be the replacement.”

He shook his head. “But can you even—”

“I can ride. You know I can ride.”

“
Si
, yes, but riding is just part of the game.”

“I know that. I'm not stupid. That's why I've been practicing.”

“How?”

“I joined a weekend league. Just low-goal. I go every week. I'm getting better. I think maybe I'm pretty good, actually. But I think I need to get to the next level before I can tell Sebastian and Jandro about it, you know? I need to get good enough. I figure I've got at least this summer before they'll find Hendy's replacement. And we leave for the Hamptons in a few days, and you know we're never as busy up there as we are down here. That's where you come in. I need you to teach me while we're there.”

He took a step back, shaking his head. “Antonia, we are talking about high-goal polo. La Victoria is the very best. I mean, a weekend league is all well and good, but playing on your brothers' team…that seems a bit…improbable, don't you think?”

She folded her arms in front of her, suddenly cold. “Can you at least see me play before you shoot me down?”

He raised his hands. “Hey, I am not shooting you down. I just don't understand why you would—”

“It's the family team,” she interrupted, pleading. “My family team. Maybe this sounds childish, but I just feel like if I was on the team, I would be in…”

“The family,” he finished for her.

“I just don't want to lose them,” she said.

He shook his head. “But you won't,
niña
.”

She shook her head, feeling panicked. “You can't promise me that. You don't understand what it's like to lose people.”

He smiled ruefully. “I wouldn't be so sure about that, Noni.” He sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Of course I will help you.”

“Oh, Enzo, thank you!” And before she could think, she threw her arms back around him and kissed him square on the mouth.

I
t was like fire.

The moment her lips made contact with his, every dismissed fantasy, every tamped-down craving, every hidden passion came roaring to the surface. Years of being careful, turning away, keeping her off-limits were swept aside. Something unrelenting and primal surged through Enzo's blood and pounded through his body like a drum. He was no longer capable of holding himself back.

Her kiss was spontaneous and innocent; he knew it was probably meant to be over almost as fast as it was given, but Enzo finally had Antonia in his arms, her lips were on his, and he was not going to let her slip away.

He felt her gasp as he took her head in his hands, knotting her silken hair around his fingers, refusing to break contact. Her lips were plush and firm, and he broke their seal with his tongue, tasting the lingering, smoky hint of whiskey, losing his breath as her tongue met his, flicking tentatively and then retreating as he pushed deeper still.

He pulled her supple body to his own, feeling her breasts push up against him as she ground her hips to his. He freed one hand from her hair and trailed it down the curve of her waist, cupping her firm behind and pulling her closer still.

He couldn't stop kissing her. He swept her mouth with his tongue, savoring her heat and taste, bringing his hand around to touch her cheek and the edge of her jaw, to feel the velvet softness of her neck. He finally broke loose of her mouth, following his hand, kissing the corner of her jawline and down her throat, at long last tasting the flesh he had dreamed of knowing for so many years.

He slipped his hand under her jacket, finding a perfect breast, just large enough to fit into his hand. His lips chased after, and he only stopped short of taking her nipple into his mouth when she gasped his name.

“Enzo,” she breathed.

He pulled back, dazed, searching her face. Her slanted black eyes were downcast, her long lashes making crescent shadows on her cheeks. Her face and chest were flushed; her mouth was swollen and wet. She slowly raised her dark eyes to his and pierced him through with their heat.

He took a step back, indecision starting to creep in.

“No,” she said swiftly, grabbing hold of his lapel. “No. Don't do that. We're going back to my place. Now.”

Antonia drove with one hand firmly on his thigh, not trusting that he wouldn't still change his mind. She had seen the flash of doubt on his face when they broke contact. But just seconds before that, she had felt the unbelievable urgency of his kiss, the way his hands had fully claimed her as his, the adamantine strength of his desire. He wanted her. He wanted her more than she had ever dared dream. And she wasn't going to let him turn away from her.

“I didn't know,” she said softly, almost to herself.

He kept his eyes on the road. “You didn't know what?”

She felt her face flush an even darker red. “I mean, I didn't know that you…thought of me that way. I thought you saw me as a…little sister or something.”

He turned to her, surprised. “Antonia,” he said. His voice was husky with longing, his mouth slowly curled into a smile, and his caramel-colored eyes gleamed. He gently unhooked her hand from his thigh and lifted it to his lips and kissed it. Then he ran his lips over the palm of her hand and up to the tip of her index finger and sucked, bringing it into his warm, soft mouth and biting down gently before pulling away and carefully placing her hand back down on his thigh.

“I have never,” he said, his voice lit with amusement, “thought of you as any kind of sister.”

Antonia felt herself melt and was wildly glad when she finally reached the turnoff to her house.

She pulled the truck into her driveway, and as soon as she put it into park, Enzo was out and around to her side, swinging the door open and pulling her into his arms. She wrapped her legs around his lower back and slid down halfway out the door to meet him. They paused that way for a moment, her sitting on the edge of the truck, her legs hooked around his hips, staring into each other's eyes. She ran her fingers through his straight black hair and felt him inhale, his nostrils flaring and his eyes half closing in pleasure.

He was such a beautiful man, she thought. Not the kind of man you noticed instantly—not model handsome like her brothers or how her father had been—but the kind of man whom you get to know over time, admiring his goodness, his quiet strength, the way you could always depend on him to get things done before you even have to ask.

And then, one day, you suddenly realize that his smile is slow and sleepy and white-hot sexy against his smooth, dark brown skin. And then the next day, you realize his shoulders and chest are incredibly wide and strong. And then, as he lifts a bale of hay, you see the muscles in his arms flex, and the breath catches in your throat for a moment as you watch his biceps bulge so much that they look as if they are about to tear the sleeves of his shirt open. And then you see him handling a pony, and he is so strong and tender with the animal, his voice is soft and reassuring as he gentles the beast, and his hands are both calming and firm as he trails his fingers along the horse's neck…

Noni closed her eyes and let herself just feel him for a moment, so glad to finally have him under her hands. Moving her fingertips down over the sides of his throat, over his shoulders, sliding them under his jacket, working a finger between the buttons of his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin and the rough texture of his chest hair.

He let out a hiss as her skin touched his, leaning into her hand for a moment and then pushing her back and flipping open the buttons on her jacket, easing it off her, leaving her bare from the waist up.

She gasped as the cool night breeze slipped over her skin. His gaze met hers, his light brown eyes gone nearly black with desire.

“Are you sure about this, Noni?” he said. His voice was rough and shaking. “Because if I touch you again, I don't know if I can stop this time.”

She smiled, throwing her head back, arching her chest, and thrusting herself toward him. “Please,” she said. “Please, please.”

Dimly, somewhere in the back of his mind, a warning bell sounded. Enzo knew he was stepping over the line, doing something he'd never be able to take back, and for the briefest instant, he hesitated.

But then his eyes fell hungrily upon the sweet pink blush of desire that stained her cheeks and chest, and he heard the way her breath came in little stutters and gasps, and then her dark gaze met his with a liquid fire, and he knew that even a much stronger man would not be able to turn away from this moment.

He cupped her jaw under his hand, bringing her head back toward him, and bent hungrily to her mouth, exploring the silken interior of her lips and tongue. He ran his hands down her bare back, thrilling at the strange, intense heat she emitted. She was blisteringly hot and smooth. She had once told him that she naturally ran a few degrees warmer than most people, a strange little medical anomaly. Suddenly, he needed to press himself against her—wanted to feel that feverish heat against his skin. He continued to kiss her as he loosened his tie, ripped off his jacket, and started to work at his shirt.

She reached up and stilled his hands, brought them back to her, leaving them to cup her breasts as she slowly took over unbuttoning his shirt.

She gasped as he slid his fingers over the tips of her breasts, filling his hands with their firm softness. Her own hands were fixed for a moment, the buttons on his shirt seemingly forgotten, her chest heaving, and then, swiftly, her hands trembling, she was pulling open his shirt and tossing it aside as she pressed herself to him, skin to unbelievably hot, soft skin.

He groaned. “Oh God, what you do to me.”

She sighed in response and pushed herself even closer.

He ran his hands down the curve of her waist, working at the clasp of her trousers. She lifted herself so he could pull them off, kicked off her sandals.

He paused a moment to take her in. She was lit by the moon and the dashboard lights, all muscle and curves, wearing nothing but a pair of translucent, buff-colored panties, a long gold necklace, and a pair of thick gold bracelets. Her hair was silvery in the moonlight, trailing over her shoulders and down her back. Her skin was cream and pink. Her small breasts were perfect teardrops, crowned by dainty, blush-colored nipples. Her eyes were gleaming and radiant, infinite in their beauty and filled with a searing desire.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself against her overwhelming allure, trying not to be too greedy. “Should we go inside?” he asked.

She shook her head, met his eyes. “No. I want you now,” she whispered.

He felt his whole body throb in response. It was like every dream he'd ever had of her. Except reality was better in every way. Her skin was softer, her hair silkier, her hands seeming to trail sweet fire wherever she touched him. No fantasy had ever matched the desire that sparked between them in this moment.

She groaned, deep and urgent, arching toward him.

He bent and took a rosy nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking, teasing, until it was stiff under his tongue. He moved to her other breast, lavishing it with the same attention until she squirmed against him, desperate. He slid his hand down her stomach, through her silky blond curls, searching for the wet, hot core of her. He closed his eyes when he touched her. She felt so good, so ready for him. He kissed his way down her belly, lifting her back onto the truck's seat and then spreading open her thighs with his hands. Her breath came in short gasps now as she slid her legs over his shoulders.

He took in her scent first, savoring the brine and spice smell of her, before kissing and then tasting her—sweet and salty and delicious. She sighed his name and he moved deeper, kissing and licking, thinking that he would never, ever get enough of this woman.

Without taking his mouth away, he reached and slid a finger inside her and she gasped and started to shake. He could feel the rush of her climax as it overtook her, her muscles contracting around his finger, her body trembling, and then her hips greedily writhing against him, and she peaked, calling out his name, and then peaked again, and then once more, until he couldn't wait any longer.

He stood and took out his wallet, hastily extracting a condom as she fumbled at his pants, frantically pulling them open and pushing them and his boxers halfway down. He unrolled the condom onto himself and then brought her legs around his waist, lowering her slowly down, sheathing himself in her. She was exquisitely hot, plush, and still pulsing, and he almost lost control right then and there; she felt so completely right.

He forced himself to go slow, to savor the beauty and pleasure of the moment. He looked at her face; her eyes were half shut in pleasure as he ran his hands over her muscular body. He felt her scars with his fingertips and whispered her name, barely able to control his need to tell her how much he loved her, how there was and would always be no one but Antonia.

He lifted her again and then slowly eased her back down, and then they were moving in concert, faster and faster, harder and harder.

She clasped her hands behind the back of his neck and bent her head to his shoulder, letting her hair slide down over his chest and back. He could sense her building anew, could hear her breath start to quicken to short, jagged bursts, could feel her almost purring under him, and then, when he felt completely surrounded by her, so deep into her that he could feel nothing but her, he kissed her, hard, and reached to touch her. Suddenly, it was happening again, wave after wave as she clenched and unclenched around him and cried out in pleasure against his mouth.

And this time, for the first time in a long time, he let the waves take him, too.