The Chicas are on the shelves! I can’t tell you how excited I am about the opportunity to finish the story about Sylvia and Carlos and to introduce to you Virginia and Pablo, Sylvia’s mom and dad, who have their own romance tale in this book.
In case you missed it, here’s my Romance Novel Television Interview telling you a little more about Sylvia and Virginia! After hubby saw this interview, he decided it was time to head to Miami again. Our daughter didn’t complain when we said we would go during Spring Break. LOL! Bring on the mojitos!
Want to know more? Here’s an excerpt of a scene between Sylvia and Carlos!
Even with the slight cold from having the top of her BMW convertible down, the sun was brilliant, heating everything with its warmth as they drove to Coconut Grove and Carlos’s boat.
Besides, as tall and big as Carlos was, the interior of her Bimmer might be cramped with the top up.
The ride was silent except for the rushing sound of the wind as she picked up speed and the noise from the cars and passersby around them. Once she pulled off the highway to Coconut Grove, it was quieter as they passed the homes, seaside restaurants and businesses leading to the marina. When she eased into a parking spot and killed the engine, the slap-slap-slap of water against the docks and hulls of the boats, along with the screech of seagulls replaced the earlier street noises.
They sat there, ill at ease, staring straight ahead at the docks before Carlos turned slightly and said, “Well, I guess this is it.”
She was still gripping the leather steering wheel tightly and flexed her hands on it for a moment before she said, “Why don’t I help you get settled?”
When she looked at him, he seemed to be considering her offer, trying to decide what to make of it. But then he nodded before gingerly getting out of the low-slung car.
She popped the trunk and put up the top to protect the leather from the intense rays of the Miami sun. Once the top had locked into place, she stepped out of the car. He was waiting on her side, by the front bumper. When she shut the door, he turned and quickly walked away, leaving her to chase after him.
Luckily for her, although clearly not for him, he pulled up short, muttered a curse beneath his breath, and grabbed at his leg. In his haste to end his time with her, he had clearly exceeded his current physical capabilities. Without saying a word, she took hold of the smaller of the bags and slipped beneath his shoulder, providing some support.
“Gracias,” he muttered as they began a slow walk to the slip for his sailboat. Little by little, the stiffness seemed to leave his gait, so that by the time they stepped up to his boat, the limp was gone.
Extracting a keychain from his jeans pocket, he unlocked the railing of the boat and opened it. He tossed one bag over the edge and it landed on the teak deck of the boat with a thud. He grabbed hold of the railings and gingerly slipped over the edge and down onto the deck. Turning, he offered his hand to help her up and over since she was still wearing her heels, which made for precarious footing.
Once she was on the teak deck, she kicked off the Fendi shoes and waited for him to unlock and open the doors leading down from the cockpit to the living area below. As he had before, he tossed the bag down, grabbed the banister along the stairs and slowly went below.
Sylvia didn’t wait for him now that she was barefoot, rushing down the stairs with the bag she was carrying.
When she reached the lower level, Carlos was already heading toward the large stateroom at the front of the sailboat. She placed the bag on one of the banks of benches along the side of the galley and took a deep breath. It wasn’t musty, although it was a little warm.
She walked to the side, opened one of the portholes and then went to the opposite side, did the same. A cross breeze quickly brought fresh air blowing into the galley. The air was flavored with the tang of salt from the ocean.
“Thanks for opening it up,” he said as he returned, stopped a few feet away from her and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“It’s not too stuffy,” she confessed and he nodded.
“Riley’s been coming by to check on things. He must have recently aired it out for me.”
Which only confirmed to her that on some level, Carlos had known that he would eventually leave her and come back here. Like her, he, too, had been running before they even had gotten started.
“It’s not like that,” Carlos said, clearly aware of her thoughts, and immediately moved to stand before her.
“You knew you wouldn’t be staying with me for long.” Tartness colored her tone.
He shrugged those broad shoulders, hung his head down, as if he couldn’t meet her gaze. Her big, brave cop was afraid . . . of her.
Sylvia stepped to him, cupped his cheek and applied gentle pressure to urge his head upward. “Carlos?”
“Sí, I knew,” he confessed, his amazing blue eyes darkening with emotion. “I knew this . . .” he said, raised his hand and motioned between them, “was complicated.”
Complicated. A good euphemism for all fucked up, she thought. All fucked up because she was all fucked up about men. About what they wanted. About the fact that men were dogs and couldn’t be trusted.
Which was the one thing the man standing before her had asked of her — that she trust him.
On some level, she did trust him. She had to. He had saved her life after all. But by saving her that way, he had only placed her at risk in another way. A much scarier one.
She closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him, needing his stability. He likewise embraced her and she lost herself in his arms. Permitted herself the comfort of having him surround her with his strength. But opening herself up that little bit soon had her imagining just how much better it might feel to allow herself even more with him.
Looking upward, she met his gaze and noticed the flecks of green and teal in his dark blue eyes. Realized he was searching her face for a sign. So she raised herself on tiptoe until her lips barely brushed his.
“I don’t want this to be so complicated.”
“So shut up and kiss me.”
He closed the final distance and opened his mouth on hers. Warm. The edges of his lips hard, but his tongue smooth and moist as he licked her lips, begging for entry.
She opened her mouth, accepting the thrust of his tongue. Pressing herself against his hard body.
He eased his hands to her waist and pulled her shirt from her pants. Moved his hands beneath to her skin. The heat and rough of his palms against her damp skin undid her.
“Please, Carlos,” she begged against his mouth.
“Dios, amor. I hope you don’t plan to stop.”
She smiled and cradled his cheek. Ran her thumb along the full outline of his lips as she said, “Do you remember what I promised the first time we met?”
He groaned and his hands tightened at her waist. “You said that you would fuck me so slow, I’d beg for you to stop — ”
“And that when I did, you’d beg for more. Well, I’m here to keep that promise.” She kissed him, placed her hands on his chest and applied slight pressure to move him back until he bumped the edge of the large bed in the middle of the stateroom.
“No running this time?” He stroked the bare skin at her waist and tentatively slipped his hand upward beneath her silk knit shirt until he cradled her breast.
A shiver worked through her body at that touch, awakening the passion that had been simmering since their interlude at the apartment. Reminding her that it had been way too long since any man had roused such feelings in her. She didn’t want him to stop this time.
“I’m sorry about what happened before. It was just — ”
“A shock. Believe me, it’s as much of a shock to me.” He leaned forward, placed a kiss in the middle of her forehead while strumming his thumb across her rock hard nipple.
It felt so good, she thought, urging him on with the butt of her body against his and the soft moan that escaped her lips. She picked up her head and kissed him, murmuring, “We just need to take it slow.”
His grin erupted against her lips. “That’s a good speed to start.”
He sat on the edge of the bed and ripped off his t-shirt.
As she approached him, Sylvia teased, “That’s not slow at all, amor.”
Carlos chuckled, laid his big hands on her waist and with a smile, said, “No, but this will be.”
He picked up his hands, eased them beneath the shoulders of her blazer and urged it off. Slipping his hands beneath the hem of her knit shirt, he did the same, pulling it up and over her head until she stood there in just her pants and bra.
He placed his hands at her waist again and with gentle pressure, urged her closer. His movements were tarried. Tender as he ran the back of his hand against the skin at her midsection, exploring every inch of her. Creating heat everywhere he touched.
She placed her hands on his shoulders, running them along the muscled width of them and then down his arms. His body was hard beneath her hands and hot. Slightly damp from heat and their passion.
As her gaze grazed his, she realized the color of his eyes had deepened to nearly a sapphire blue with arousal, but his gaze immediately shifted upward to her breasts. She couldn’t wait for him to touch her again.
Reaching upward, she undid the front clasp of her bra. Her breasts spilled free and with a shrug, she let the bra slip off.
His seated position gave him a prime seat and she didn’t protest as he bent his head to suck her nipples and bring them to tighter peaks.
He was gifted with his mouth and hands, alternating gentle caresses with a rougher demand that soon had her shaking in his arms and drenched. He calmed her with a soft murmur and the drift of his hand downward, to the waistband of her slacks.
Swiftly he undid the button and then zipper, eased his hand down beneath the edge of her panties. With sure fingers he found the center of her and stroked his fingers across her clitoris.
She nearly came from that sure loving touch, but held on, grasping his shoulders for support as her knees threatened to buckle from the pleasure he was bringing her with his mouth and hands.
But she didn’t want to make the journey alone. Not after waiting so long for him.
She inched her hand downward to the thick muscle of his chest and stroked him. His hair tickled the palm of her hand and his nipple beaded into a hard bud beneath her fingers.
He murmured a satisfied sigh as she caressed it and that sigh tightened something inside of her, dragging her to the edge.
She stepped away from him, earning a ragged complaint until he realized her intent.
Leaning backward on the bed, Carlos watched as she undid his jeans and dragged them down. He was naked beneath the denim and erect. Magnificently so, she thought as she encircled him.
“Sylvia, I – “
“Sssh,” she whispered, urging him on with sure strokes until he reared up, brought his
hands to her pants and made short work of removing them and her panties, leaving her totally naked before him.
There would be no slow this time, she realized. She was too needy as was he.
Excerpts from South Beach Chicas Catch Their Man by Caridad Pineiro
Copyright © 2007 Caridad Pineiro. All rights reserved.
No portion may be reproduced without the written permission of the author.