“Gracias, Alejandro. Buenas noches.”
Emily kept it short and simple, although a hundred words and sentences were waiting to burst forth and possibly ruin it all. She kept her gaze fixed on his chin because looking into his eyes would surely trigger something she shouldn’t be saying or doing. His scent was all around her, intoxicating her alongside the cava in her bloodstream. The corridor was silent, and she thought she could hear her heart pound hard and fast. Could he hear it too?
“Buenas noches,” he said, his tone so clipped it was almost rude.
He turned on his heel and strode towards the lift, and she had to grip the door handle to steady herself.
Why was she disappointed? What had she been expecting?
Just when she straightened up to walk into her room and put a lid on the Pandora’s Box that should have been kept tightly shut, Alejandro stopped. He clenched his fists, and she thought she heard a muttered curse. In a few long strides, he stood right in front of her again, and this time there was no escaping his gaze.
“Feel free to slap me,” he said, and before she could make any sense of it, his lips came crashing down on hers.
There was nothing timid or soft or tender about the kiss, as it might have been after all these years. Instead, it was as if all the pent-up need flowed into this one touch of mouth against mouth. His lips were firm and insistent against hers, his tongue demanding entrance, and with a half-moan, Emily gave in and kissed him back.
His taste flooded her, nut and syrup and wine. One of his strong hands clasped her neck, the other hand gripped her hip to draw her closer. Their tongues met, and Alejandro angled his head to deepen the kiss. She felt it deep inside her, soothing an ache, stirring a fire, breaking the cracks wide open. She wanted more. She knew she shouldn’t.