Page 6 of Indulging Temptation (Tempting the Heart #1)

The bar is packed, as always. Ever since Dante took over this spot, which was abandoned for years, he’s been able to manage a packed house most nights.

I’m proud of him. Hummingbirds, like my restaurant, Cielo + Cibo, both incorporate Latin fusion in the menu as well as the overall vibe.

We thought it was important to combine both of our cultures into our businesses, since it’s such a huge part of who we are.

Puerto Rican from our mom’s side, and Italian from our dad’s.

I make my way to where Dante is standing on the far left side of the bar first before heading over to Tomás, who I can see from my limited periphery, is entrenched in conversation with someone. I can’t make out who he’s talking to though, with his broad shoulders are blocking my view.

“A round of shots and one round of drinks for the bachelorette party seated towards the entrance,” I say to Dante.

His green eyes shine under the overhead lights with an unconvinced and cautionary glare.

I lift my hands. “Don’t worry, I’m not drinking with them.

I offered the shots so they would leave me alone. ”

He shoots a quick glance over to where Tomás is sitting as he nods to me. “Got it.” Dante waves over one of the bartenders and tells them to go over and get the bachelorette party’s order.

I’m about to head over to meet Tomás since the bar is packed, and I don’t want to keep Dante, but he stops me. “You never responded to my last text.”

“I know. Sorry, I was in the middle of a phone meeting with Marty.”

Dante laughs. “Since when do you listen or pay attention to a damn thing Marty says?”

He’s got me there. I take a deep inhale, absolutely not in the mood for my younger brother to lecture me. “I’ll be fine,” I reassure him.

Dante tilts his head, and his jaw tenses. “That’s not what I wanted to know. I wanted to know if you’ll behave yourself.”

I smirk in response.

“You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?

Listen, you can stay closed lipped about it all you want, but I’m not stupid.

I know there’s more to what happened when you were in Miami that you’re not telling me for whatever reason.

Same way that I know how difficult it is for you to control yourself when anything has to do with Lorena. ”

If he only knew the fucking self-restraint I had to display when it came to her in Miami, he wouldn’t be scolding me right now.

“Like I said. I’ll be fine. It’ll all be fine.

And I’ll be on my best behavior,” I lie, not only to him, but to myself.

Though sometimes it’s those little white lies that we tell ourselves and say to the ones we care about are the only way to get through the day.

Or in my case, get this conversation over with so I can drown all my annoyances in a drink or three.

He glances over in Tomás’ direction once more, shaking his head. “I really hope so.”

Dante’s lips move to say more on the topic, but I'm saved by the rowdy squealing of the bachelorette party who took it upon themselves to follow the bartender to claim their drinks. Not wanting to deal with that again, I mouth a ‘see you later’ to my brother and head over to the other side of the bar to meet Tomás, who is still engulfed in conversation with his back turned in my direction. The closer I get, the veil of mystery as to who he’s talking to is lifted.

Sitting next to him is none other than…Lorena.

The air in my lungs becomes constricted as my gaze drinks her in, trying to be as subtle and respectful as possible, considering her brother is right next to me. But both feel impossible because there isn’t an inch of her that I wouldn’t lick or do more to if she gave me a chance to redeem myself.

Our eyes meet for a split second, and she instantly looks away from me, crossing her legs, drawing my gaze downward.

The black painted-on skirt she’s wearing that stops just above the knee shifts with her movements, riding up just enough that my imagination begins to run wild.

I swallow down the thoughts swarming my head, and instead, travel my gaze upward.

Though the more I admire the swell of her hips, which are accentuated by a thin gold chain belt resting at the small of her waist, the dirty thoughts only intensify.

With both hands down at my side, I squeeze my fists, feeling the sudden urge to have something to hold onto, but as I do it, all I can envision is how stunning she would look on top of me, rolling her bare hips in slow circles.

Grinding her pussy on my cock in perfect motion while I lay back with one hand propped behind my head and the other at her center, caressing her clit with my thumb.

Working it with the perfect amount of pressure and precision, making her come repeatedly.

Fuck . I need to get it together.

But how can I when the more I look at her, the more tempting she becomes?

Even the cream colored off-the-shoulder shirt she has tucked into her skirt is doing things to me.

But it’s when she looks back at me, swiveling herself in the barstool, and those dark brown eyes sear themselves into mine, I’m reminded that no one — and I mean no one — holds a candle to her.

Never have I witnessed such effortlessly seductive beauty.

Everything about her, from the long, thick chocolate waves that frame her face, to her naturally pouty lips and deep sun-kissed glow of her is breathtaking.

Even the clothes she wears, unique to her personal style, accentuate her every curve on her petite frame.

Everything about her is perfect. Not only on the outside, but on the inside too. She’s smart, feisty, organized yet chaotic in her own way. She’s everything I could ever want.

Everything I’d kill to have as mine.

I’m so in awe of her that I damn near trip over air. Thankfully, I catch myself before I fall, or before anyone notices the mishap that almost happened.

“Ahh, finally!” Tomás gets up for a hug before giving me the Manhattan he ordered for me.

“Thanks, man.” I waste no time taking a swig. Hoping it gives me the courage I need to get through this outing. The nerves I felt via text in the car are nothing like what I’m feeling right now that she’s right here, looking as stunning — and pissed off as ever — at me.

Now closer to her, I notice the belt resting on her hips is clipped to a pair of …suspenders? I do a double take, not sure if my mind is playing tricks on me. But either way, she even makes something like basic suspenders look irresistible.

“Lo,” I say her name, as a greeting, a peace offering, hoping that she’ll bless me with a smile.

A hello. Something. Anything . But she doesn’t crack a smile, nor does she stand up.

She remains seated, eyeing me up and down as her cheeks hollow around the straw that her fuchsia painted lips are staining as she nearly depletes her mojito.

Tomás nudges her. “Stop being grumpy.”

Does he know his sister? Lorena is always grumpy.

Especially when she’s forced out. She’s a homebody…

like me. Being out, having to deal with…

people …is the opposite of what she rather be doing.

Tack on her having to see me, and it’s no wonder that she looks like she’s just bitten into a sour apple.

But fuck, if the scowl she’s shooting my way doesn’t do things to me it definitely shouldn’t be.

Forcing her best fake grin, she rises from the barstool.

As soon as she’s on her feet, she adjusts her skirt, tugging at the fabric as her palms flatten on her thighs as she pats them.

A nervous habit of hers I’ve picked up on over the years.

Although she still looks displeased with seeing me, her nervousness that she’s doing her best to conceal gives me hope.

She moves two steps, and I meet her the rest of the way. Gladly .

Standing face to face, my six-foot-five stature towers over her by at least a foot, if not more. And even though neither of us is speaking, my body already feels at peace with her close to me.

I open my arms for a hug, and much to my surprise, she doesn’t fight it. Without hesitation, she collides into my chest. Immediately I’m met with her scent and this inescapable feeling of home, all entangled into one, as I secure her place against my broad chest with a squeeze.

“I’m so happy to see you,” I whisper into her ear.

Shifting to her tiptoes, Lorena pulls back just enough that her mouth is near my cheek.

I wait, with bated breath, for what she’s going to say next.

Her lips purse, but it's not to speak. Instead, they pucker as she places the gentlest and somehow the most erotic kiss on my cheek. Something that she’s never done before in all the times we've hugged or even known each other. The simple gesture is sending a surge of confusion and mixed signals throughout my entire body. In what feels like slow motion, she moves her mouth to my ear. “I don’t believe you,” she whispers back.

My brows fall to a straight line, processing what she just said and readying myself for what she’s saying next. “Now, be a good boy, for once , and don’t make a scene. Can you do that for me?”

Fuck, if she only knew what she’s doing to me right now.

A quick ‘yes’ is all I can muster up and say to her as I damn near choke on my saliva.

She shifts back onto her heels at the same time her gaze appraises my crotch with a mischievous glint to her rich-brown irises. So mischievous that my fucking cock twitches to life beneath her stare.

I don’t know what she’s about to say, but I’m already lost in anticipation, relieved that Tomás decided to take a phone call, so we can have a much-needed moment alone.

Lorena takes a sip of what’s left of the drink in her hand, swishing it in her mouth, before swallowing, prolonging this torture filled silence. Teasing me more by the second.

Finally, her lips part in synchrony with her drink occupied hand lowering to my growing bulge.

Condensation seeps into the fabric separating my cock from the glass as she purposely brushes her drink against me, leaving a mark on the barrier of my pants.

Not that I give a fuck. The friction of her touch, the proximity alone, is enough to make me combust right fucking here.

She knows exactly what she’s doing. It’s my karma. Payback.

“Where was that energy when I saw you last?” Lorena asks, rubbing the glass along my concealed erection.

Her voice is sultry, but her eyes tell a different story as they remain connected with mine.

There’s a watery sheen. A look that I’ve seen too many times from too many people in my lifetime.

And that’s what kills me the most. I’m used to disappointing people, but what I’m not used to, is disappointing her.