though she was.
Jorge had helped to fill that gap. She’d never thought of him as anything but a friend.
If she wanted to keep that friendship, she knew she needed to be brutally honest.
“Jorge, I appreciate the offer. I do.” Gently she tugged her hand from his, placing it in her lap and out of reach.
His eyes followed the movement and resignation spread over his face.
“I . . . I think I’ve met someone.” Elijah’s image flashed through her mind—she could never forget the power and intensity in his blue eyes when they looked at her. In the space of moments he’d been able to make her feel like the only woman in the world.
“And this person you’ve met, he is dominant?” Jorge nodded as if in understanding, but Samantha knew her friend well enough to see that he was filing away his own emotions behind those expressive dark eyes of his.
“He is.” Samantha shivered as she thought about it.
“You will not pretend to be someone you aren’t for a man.” Jorge was looking at her again, this time with an inscrutable expression. His words were a statement, not a question, because he knew her well enough to know that Samantha didn’t pull her punches.
“This is something I want.” Samantha’s voice was soft. “I mean . . . I think I want it. That’s why I’d like to go to Devorar first, to get a taste before I . . . before I dive in headfirst.”
Jorge nodded, pulled his cell phone from the pocket of the apron tied around his hips, and tapped out a text message. A moment later the phone vibrated, indicating a reply had come through.
“He will go with you.” Jorge slid his phone back into his pocket. “Though he would prefer to go to Pecadohere in town. He prefers it there.”
“Thank you.” It felt as if a weight had been lifted off Samantha’s chest. It was replaced by a heady sense of jittery excitement.
Finally, she would see if these needs she felt were real. For all she knew, she’d get one look at what happened inside the club and would run screaming into the night.
Somehow, though, she suspected the opposite would be true.
A thought occurred to her, and she looked up at Jorge with alarm.
“I don’t have to have sex with Angelo if I go to the club with him, do I?” Angelo Aguirre was every bit as good-looking as his brother, but Samantha wasn’t the type to jump into sex with just anyone.
Before Elijah, she could count the number of partners she’d had on two fingers.
Instead of laughing at her, or answering in the affirmative, Jorge again took Samantha’s hand in his. His fingers rested lightly on the paper-thin skin of her wrist where her pulse pounded.
“If that was the case, I would absolutely be the one going with you.” His voice was completely serious, and Samantha’s mouth went dry. “But I never had a chance, did I?”
Samantha looked down at where her friend’s tanned skin touched her own. Biting her lip, she shook her head slowly. “I’m sorry.”
And she genuinely was. Life would be easier if she could fall for Jorge. Jorge, who never pressed her about her past, who would never demand more than she wanted to give.
Elijah, she knew, would not be easy.
The thought was exciting and arousing.
“Angelo will stop by your house later to talk to you about tonight.” Jorge waved the money away when Samantha produced a handful of pesos from her pocket to pay for her meal. Heaviness weighed on top of her anticipation as she slowly rose from the stool, knowing that, somehow, this conversation had changed her friendship with Jorge irrevocably.
She accepted his hug before she turned to go. She could feel his eyes on her back as she walked away, and it made her self-conscious—something she rarely was.
She pushed the thought away. She wasn’t a cruel woman, and she knew that she’d never led Jorge on.
He would figure out soon enough that they would never have worked. In the meantime she would give him some space.
And she would get a taste of a
Jorge had helped to fill that gap. She’d never thought of him as anything but a friend.
If she wanted to keep that friendship, she knew she needed to be brutally honest.
“Jorge, I appreciate the offer. I do.” Gently she tugged her hand from his, placing it in her lap and out of reach.
His eyes followed the movement and resignation spread over his face.
“I . . . I think I’ve met someone.” Elijah’s image flashed through her mind—she could never forget the power and intensity in his blue eyes when they looked at her. In the space of moments he’d been able to make her feel like the only woman in the world.
“And this person you’ve met, he is dominant?” Jorge nodded as if in understanding, but Samantha knew her friend well enough to see that he was filing away his own emotions behind those expressive dark eyes of his.
“He is.” Samantha shivered as she thought about it.
“You will not pretend to be someone you aren’t for a man.” Jorge was looking at her again, this time with an inscrutable expression. His words were a statement, not a question, because he knew her well enough to know that Samantha didn’t pull her punches.
“This is something I want.” Samantha’s voice was soft. “I mean . . . I think I want it. That’s why I’d like to go to Devorar first, to get a taste before I . . . before I dive in headfirst.”
Jorge nodded, pulled his cell phone from the pocket of the apron tied around his hips, and tapped out a text message. A moment later the phone vibrated, indicating a reply had come through.
“He will go with you.” Jorge slid his phone back into his pocket. “Though he would prefer to go to Pecadohere in town. He prefers it there.”
“Thank you.” It felt as if a weight had been lifted off Samantha’s chest. It was replaced by a heady sense of jittery excitement.
Finally, she would see if these needs she felt were real. For all she knew, she’d get one look at what happened inside the club and would run screaming into the night.
Somehow, though, she suspected the opposite would be true.
A thought occurred to her, and she looked up at Jorge with alarm.
“I don’t have to have sex with Angelo if I go to the club with him, do I?” Angelo Aguirre was every bit as good-looking as his brother, but Samantha wasn’t the type to jump into sex with just anyone.
Before Elijah, she could count the number of partners she’d had on two fingers.
Instead of laughing at her, or answering in the affirmative, Jorge again took Samantha’s hand in his. His fingers rested lightly on the paper-thin skin of her wrist where her pulse pounded.
“If that was the case, I would absolutely be the one going with you.” His voice was completely serious, and Samantha’s mouth went dry. “But I never had a chance, did I?”
Samantha looked down at where her friend’s tanned skin touched her own. Biting her lip, she shook her head slowly. “I’m sorry.”
And she genuinely was. Life would be easier if she could fall for Jorge. Jorge, who never pressed her about her past, who would never demand more than she wanted to give.
Elijah, she knew, would not be easy.
The thought was exciting and arousing.
“Angelo will stop by your house later to talk to you about tonight.” Jorge waved the money away when Samantha produced a handful of pesos from her pocket to pay for her meal. Heaviness weighed on top of her anticipation as she slowly rose from the stool, knowing that, somehow, this conversation had changed her friendship with Jorge irrevocably.
She accepted his hug before she turned to go. She could feel his eyes on her back as she walked away, and it made her self-conscious—something she rarely was.
She pushed the thought away. She wasn’t a cruel woman, and she knew that she’d never led Jorge on.
He would figure out soon enough that they would never have worked. In the meantime she would give him some space.
And she would get a taste of a
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