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'This book is great. It's
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'Elizabeth von Rentzell, Writer's Digest
San Juan although very beautiful was a blur, as I contemplated the mysteries of the powerful desire I was experiencing. So completely absorbed by my passion, I was totally distracted and only vaguely paying attention to everything he was telling me about the island. I smiled pleasantly, pretending to be interested, but all the while I was mesmerized by his eyes and his face and his lips, trying hard not to stare at his oh-so gorgeous physique.
We went sightseeing, taking a stroll along the cobblestone streets of Old San Juan, which was very picturesque, especially the Castillo de San Cristobal, an old castle where we bought a couple of Polaroid shots a street vendor was peddling. He kept one and gave me the other. I'd probably have to burn mine. No evidence.
Later, we ate a very late lunch at a lovely little cafe on the beach, appropriately named Bar Beach Cafe where we groped each other underneath the table, unable to keep our hands off each other. It was a very sensual meal, one where he fed me and I fed him, truly embarrassing but we were past the point of caring.
He was caution to the wind, lace panties tossed in the back seat of cars, uncontrollable urges where you felt fettered to run your toes up his pant legs while his eyes tore through your soul, compelling and delicious, totally dangerous.
He was the physical embodiment of every desirable feature I had ever wanted in a man. It was as if God had designed him made to order just for me. Except it didn't only end there-with just his looks. It was also the fact that he made love like a demon-like Satan himself. Afterwards, you were a wreck. Ruined for life. Cause you knew for sure that no other man would ever take you to those heights, make you forget your name.
"Flores, flores!" An old street vendor pushing a little cart shouted, peddling his flowers.
Romeo stood up abruptly and whistled for him to come over.
I grabbed his hand, "You don't have to-"
"Don't be silly, I want to."
He smiled. "So I've finally met a woman who doesn't like getting flowers."
"That's not it. It's just that you have nothing to prove."
"And buying you flowers is proving what?" He asked then and turned to address the man in Spanish.
The old man grinned widely, showing rotted, crooked teeth. "Gracias, se'or," he said, unloading his entire basket on an empty seat beside us as Romeo pulled out some money to pay him.
I stared up at him with amusement, as he settled back into his chair, reaching for one of the bouquets. "There I bought you the whole thing."
I laughed. "Such extravagance!"
"Don't ever say I never gave you anything."
I laughed again. "A single rose would have sufficed. What am I going to do with all these flowers?"
"Oh, I've no doubt that we'll find something to do with them," he said suggestively and pulled out a single rose from one of the bouquets. "Would you believe me if I told you that you're the first woman other than my mother that I've ever bought flowers for?"
"Okay," he said staring intently at me, running the bud against my cheek then along the nape of my neck, down to my cleavage, stopping right at the center of my chest, then across to my heart. "I didn't think you would."
"I can't take this," I confessed helplessly, my head was whirling with visions of what he done to me the night before. How his skin had felt, how it tasted, and I could barely stand it. I closed my eyes, it was too good, what he was doing with the rose. Made me shiver inside. Opening my eyes, I found him still staring intently at me. My eyes strayed to those perfect lips and I could almost feel them on mine. I gazed back into his eyes. They were smiling now, gazing contemplatively at me. Damn, he was sexy.
He leaned forward and stroked a wisp of hair from my face with an unsteady hand, "neither can I," he confessed with a soft laugh, tilting my chin up, "but why don't you humor me."
"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me," I asked hotly. "What do you want from me?!"
"This," he said and bent his head to kiss me.
When our lips met, my mouth felt swollen with wanting, as if I had been waiting for his touch longer than I knew. All the free-floating electricity in the atmosphere seemed to collect around our bodies, charging us. Our hands touched and we both jumped. We both felt the shock. Our sexual chemistry was very strong, overwhelming. Oh God, how could he make me feel this way? In that moment, I gave myself utterly to his embrace, opening my mouth and entire self to him with a trust that made me tremble with fear. And as we drew apart, I could read the fear in his eyes too. I could read the panic.
Some moments defied all logic, all reason. This was one of those moments that words could simply not explain. If there ever was, there no longer was any doubt in my mind that we were destined to be together. I was staring at him. And he at me. It was as if he had hot-wired himself right into my soul. There was no escape. I was content to sit there for the rest of my life. For all of eternity, gazing into his mesmerizing eyes. And now my eyes asked his eyes, do I look as delicious to you as you do to me? Do you want to be inside of me as much as I wish you to be? And when you're inside of me, do you feel as cherished and as complete? Like nothing else in the world matters except you and me? I shuddered inside, feeling like I was getting too serious about this guy too fast.