“I’m a little sick to my stomach,” she said.
Lucio’s eyes flew open. He looked scared to death.
“I’m fine!” she added, laughing in surprise at his reaction. She reached out to touch his clasped hands, his knuckles now white with tension. “I just finished my period today, is all. It’s nothing, really.”
She watched Lucio’s body nearly melt with relief. He hung his head and slowly shook it side to side, exhaling deeply.
“Bonita,” he said, looking up, his eyes wide. “I was certain you were going to tell me you were pregnant.”
Ginger stiffened, balling up the linen napkin in her lap, stung by how happy he seemed. But of course he was happy. She was happy! They were both damn happy that the whole broken-condom incident hadn’t put an end to life as they knew it.
“Looks like we dodged that bullet,” she said, trying to sound lighthearted.
He reached for her, cradling both her hands in his. “I see that my reaction hurt you. I did not mean to. Of course I am relieved, but if you were pregnant, it would not be a catastrophe, yes?”
Ginger kept her face expressionless. She willed herself not to cry. What was wrong with her? Why had Lucio’s reaction stung so? Did she want to be pregnant? Did she expect him to be crushed that she wasn’t? What was her problem?
Right then, Ginger decided she didn’t care what the doctors said. She really was going through menopause. Her period had lasted just two days and barely warranted unwrapping a tampon. And now she felt as though she had a raging case of PMS. Maybe, in her case, the acronym stood for “Pretty bad Menopausal Syndrome.”
Ginger took her hand from Lucio’s and placed the wadded-up napkin on the table. She stood. She walked from the huge open dining area of Rick’s modern house and went into the living room, now Lucio’s studio. She hadn’t been here since the night all hell broke loose—the night Josie got kidnapped by crazy Bennett Cummings.
Tonight felt much the same, since all hell was breaking loose in her heart.
“Please tell me what’s wrong.” Lucio had come up behind her. He placed his hands on her hips and breathed onto her neck.
“I don’t know what’s wrong,” she said. “I feel ridiculous for being so emotional. I know you probably hate it. Larry always hated it when—”
“I am not Larry,” Lucio said, spinning Ginger around so that she faced him, his equal in height in those heels. “I want to know all the little things about you, yes? All the hidden corners in your mind and heart. Do not apologize for them and do not assume I will react like Larry did when you allow me to see them.”
Ginger’s mouth fell open.
“You understand, yes?”
“I guess,” she said, baffled.
“Share it all with me, Genevieve. That is what I ask.” Lucio leaned forward and kissed her forehead, then smiled at her. “If you get moody in your cycle, so what? Who cares? It’s natural! And if you aren’t hungry for my famous potato omelet? We’ll wrap it up for later. It doesn’t matter. But if you are angry with me because I am relieved you aren’t pregnant—then you must tell me you are angry. Share it with me, bonita. This is what I want.”
Ginger swallowed hard. “Seriously?”
Lucio laughed. “Seriously.” He reached for her and drew her close to his chest, though Ginger could tell he was being careful not to smear her makeup.
Suddenly, it all made sense to her. “This is what happened to you before, isn’t it?” Ginger asked, still wrapped in his arms.
“Before?”
She slipped from Lucio’s embrace and stood before him. “Is that why you had to get married when you were young? Was she pregnant? Do you have a child in Spain?”
Lucio shook his head. “No, guapa. It has never happened before. She was pregnant, yes, but I was seventeen and ignorant and I did not even bother to use a condom at all.”
Ginger was shocked. “So you do have a child! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“There is no child,” Lucio said abruptly. He ran his hands through his hair. “She lost the baby three weeks after the wedding and immediately asked for an annulment.” He shrugged, a faint shadow of sadness falling over his face. “It seems so far away now that it is almost like it never happened.”
Ginger did not know how to respond to that story. “I am sorry about the baby,” was all she could come up with.
Lucio tried to smile. “I believe that things happen for a reason, yes? I have often thought that God or the universe or whatever you want to call it actually wanted me to have the life I’ve had. Perhaps God knew I’d make a better photographer than father.” His voice was soft as he brought his face to hers. “All I know is I could not have accomplished all I have if there was a child and a wife in my life.”
Ginger understood. On good days, she could see her years with Larry in the same light. If she hadn’t met him in college then she wouldn’t have Jason and Joshua—an unthinkable possibility.
“It must sound harsh to hear me say that, but it is true.” Lucio let his forehead rest upon Ginger’s. She felt his hands stroke her back. “I have never told anyone this, but there are times I truly believe that I would trade all my adventures and success to be able to know the child who was never born.”
“Lucio…”
“He would be a grown man now.”
Ginger put her arms around him, holding him tight.
“And your boys—” Lucio made a sound somewhere in between a laugh and a sigh. “They are a funny pair, yes? And I watch them and I can’t help but think of my own son. I know that dwelling on this is … ah, the word…”
Ginger smiled, now accustomed to the pause that occurred when Lucio couldn’t come up with the English needed to finish his thought. “Dwelling on it is sad?”
“Yes, but that is not the word I was thinking of.”
“Pointless?”
“Almost.”
“Maudlin. Morose? Self-pitying?”
Lucio laughed. “You know too many words, pelirroja. But you do understand.” He tightened his hold on her and adjusted his head so that he could rest his cheek against hers. “What I am trying to tell you is that I am relieved you’re not pregnant, it is true, because I do not know if I could be a good father right now in my life. But it is not so simple. I often wonder about it, what it would be like to have a child.”
Ginger closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of him. It was spicy and clean and delivered a shot of heat through her veins. She’d missed him—his voice, his touch, his scent—over the last week.
He pulled his cheek from hers and steadied her in front of him. “I have something I need to ask you.”
Ginger smiled. “You can ask me anything.”
“You have just finished bleeding. I understand this. And you have taken great care with your hair and makeup and it is all so perfect for the picture. But none of it can deter me. I want you.”
Ginger swallowed hard.
Lucio ran his fingers inside the low, square neckline, brushing a fingertip just above her nipples. She gasped, trembling under his touch.
“The moment I saw you in this dress I was … the word … yes! I was reduced! Reduced to my most base self. All I wanted was to throw you down in the sand next to the bamboo hut you share with MaryAnn.”
“Oh, reeelly?”
“I wanted to rip the dress off you, muss up your hair, and get inside you.” Lucio’s grin widened and he cupped her face with his hands. “Do you have any idea how sexy you are dressed like this, Genevieve? Do you have any idea what you have done to me tonight, how you have made a ruined man of me?”
Ginger tilted her head back and laughed at Lucio’s speech. “Wow,” she said, catching her breath. “So this is your way of telling me you’ve always had a thing for the girls of Gilligan’s Island?”
“What normal man has not?” he murmured, nuzzling her ear.
“But which one really did it for you, Lucio?” Ginger captured Lucio’s earlobe between her lips and sucked gen
tly. “Tell me who you liked the best.”
“Ginger, of course.” When Lucio chuckled it tickled her neck. “For me, it has always been about Ginger.”
CHAPTER 13
Modeling was more work than she ever imagined. Lucio had prepared the studio beforehand, bringing in real sand and spreading it on the floor of the plain white backdrop. He’d also acquired a lifelike palm tree, a beach umbrella, and a few coconuts. The rest of the island paradise would be added on the computer using his own stock photos of Tahiti and a little bit of digital magic, he explained.
Lucio posed her on her right side, propped her on her elbow, and began flashing light meters all over the place—next to her face, her belly, and her legs, then adjusted the aluminum reflecting panels and light stands. While all this was going on, HeatherLynn curled up on her pillow, attired in her bikini. Josh had done a spectacular job of mimicking the design of the vintage swimsuit but still making it comfortable for the dog. Ginger smiled at HeatherLynn, knowing that years of being groomed, fussed over, primped, and attired in various sweaters and coats had left her perfectly willing to don a bikini when called upon to do so. She’d even been willing to have the fur on the top of her head teased and sprayed, a little blue bow holding her bouffant in place. The girl was a trouper.
The infant-size sunglasses were going to be another issue entirely, however.
“I have not done much studio work so we will have to learn together, yes? We will experiment.”
Ginger smiled, watching how Lucio’s brow creased as he fiddled with his lens. He popped his head up. “Do you have the doggie treats?”
“Hidden right behind my behind,” she said.
“And what a very fine behind it is,” Lucio said, smiling. “It is crazy, you know—how you resemble her! But I must say, your face is prettier, softer.”
Ginger rolled her eyes. “I already agreed you could make wild passionate love to me when we’re done. There’s no need to go overboard with the compliments.”
He let go with a laugh as he reached into his camera bag for something. “All right, we are going to take a couple shots of you alone before we try to add Señorita Chiquita, yes? I need to make sure the exposure is exact.”
Ginger held her chin high, hoping to God that the lights didn’t accentuate any pulling skin at her throat or lines around her eyes. She prayed that the veins in her legs didn’t look like a roadmap highlighted in green marker. And what if she appeared bloated because of her period? She made a point to pull in her core muscles.
“Relax, Genevieve. Get those ridiculously negative thoughts out of your head.” Lucio kept the shutter whirring and clicking.
“How did you know what I was thinking?” she asked.
“It is broadcast all over your face,” he said, continuing to take shot after shot. “I know what to look for now. All those times you were doing the tap-tap-tapping you had that exact look in your eye.”
“What look?”
“Worry. Fear. A little sadness. I think maybe Larry put all that rubbish in your head, am I right?”
“Ha!” Ginger said, moving a shoulder forward in the hopes it would accentuate her collarbones. “I had no idea I was so transparent.”
“You are sweet is what you are. Sweet and sexy and a joy to be around.”
Ginger smiled, licked her lips, then tried to shake her hair provocatively, forgetting that there was so much hairspray on her head that there would be no movement whatsoever. Gilligan’s Island would have to be hit by a category 5 hurricane for that to happen.
“My God, Genevieve. Looking at you is making my cock as big as a telephoto lens.”
She laughed, having fun with him, knowing he was teasing her, trying to get a reaction he could capture with the camera.
“How do you say ‘cock’ in Spanish?” she asked, giving him a devilish smile.
“Do not move!” Lucio popped up from his crouched position and went to get HeatherLynn. She seemed pleased to see him.
“Here you go, you cute little girlie girl, you.” He set the dog in front of Ginger, near her knees. “Get a treat ready, Genevieve. I am going to put the sunglasses on her face and you will try to keep her still with the treats. You must continue with that sexy little smile of yours while keeping her still, yes?”
“Yes, yes,” she said. While Lucio perched the tiny sunglasses on HeatherLynn’s snout, Ginger tried to reassure her pretty girl by stroking her ears, cooing, and baby-talking.
“What a good little doggie she is,” Lucio whispered, steadying the sunglasses. Within seconds he was back at the camera.
Ginger fed the dog a steady stream of treats and sweet talk. Through it all, she tried her best to smile but knew she probably looked stiff and fake.
“There are many ways to say ‘cock’ in Spanish, bonita, ” Lucio said, out of nowhere.
“Really?” Ginger tilted her head in curiosity.
Click.
“I know you ask me that because there are certain things you long to say to me in Spanish, certain dirty things.”
Ginger laughed. “I do?”
Click. Click.
“Oh, yes. You long to tell me how you need more of my cock. That you dream of it at night. That you love the way it feels all hard and silky inside your mouth.”
Clickclickclickclickclick.
“And there are many ways to say ‘pussy’ in Spanish.”
“There are?”
“Oh, yes, bonita.”
“But there is only one language to speak of the pussy and the cock.”
She let out a little groan.
Click. Click. Click. Click.
It had to be the accent, Ginger decided, because if Larry had murmured these same words to her she’d be laughing at how ridiculous he sounded.
“The only language we need is the language of the body, of passion. No words are needed, yes? Just the lips and the tongue and the teeth and the fingers and the skin.”
Click. Click. Click.
“That’s it, my sweet Genevieve. Feed the doggie her treats. Later you will feed me your pussy, yes? Your pussy will be my treat.”
Click.
“So you will allow me to love you tonight? You will give yourself to me?”
Ginger was shoving the treats into HeatherLynn’s mouth faster than the little dog could gobble them. “God, yes, Lucio,” she breathed.
“Go a little slower, mi amor. I need to capture the seconds in between the treats, yes?”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“Look at the camera.”
“Okay.”
“I’m going to fuck you so good tonight.”
Click. Click. Click
“You will take all of me up inside you. You will be hot and slick.”
Clickclickclickclickclickclickclickclick.
“Oh, my God.”
At that point, HeatherLynn apparently reached her limit for dog treats and dirty talk. She raised a paw and knocked the sunglasses off her nose, then ran back to her pillow.
Ginger was panting. She felt a light sheen of perspiration all over her body, and she knew it wasn’t from the harsh lighting.
Lucio said nothing. He went about switching off the lights and putting away his equipment. Ginger sat up in the sand, crossing her legs and reaching above her head to stretch.
“Did we get enough pictures, do you think?”
Lucio didn’t answer her.
“I’ve always thought you had to take thousands of pictures to get one really good one,” she said.
He chuckled softly. “It is often the case, yes. But sometimes, you take one shot, you nail it, you know it, and you pack up and go home.”
“Did you nail it?”
Lucio looked at her, his eyes smiling. He said nothing, just continued with what he was doing.
Ginger watched every move he made. There was an intensity to Lucio when he was sexually charged. Sex was serious business to him. His sentences were shorter. His eyes grew darker. He became the aggressor. Ginger cou
ld tell that even as he worked, he was seriously aroused.
It made her breathless to think of what would come next.
Suddenly he stood above her. Lucio reached his hand down for her and pulled her to a stand. Her heart was pounding.
“Open your mouth just a little bit for me,” he said. She did what he asked, thinking maybe he was planning ahead for another picture. Lucio slid his middle finger between her lips.
Her eyes flew wide. She let go with a moan that felt like it started from the soles of her feet.
“You make me insane,” he whispered, leaning close, adding his tongue alongside his finger. After a moment of this, he placed his lips over hers, continuing to invade her mouth with tongue and finger.
Ginger shivered. She’d never felt anything so erotic in her life.
She reached out, placing her palm flat on his chest. She felt his heart racing. She felt the heat of his body through his shirt.
Without a word, Lucio ended the kiss, the tonguing, and the fingering. “Come,” he said, guiding her toward the bedroom.
“I’m covered in sand,” she whispered. “I’ve got fake eyelashes on, and way too much hairspray.”
“None of it will matter,” he said.
Lucio marched her right on through the bedroom and into Rick’s palatial master bath. Lucio opened the doors to the huge slate shower and started the water. Hot streams shot out at every angle, from a dozen showerheads.
He turned to her, a pensive smile on his face. “Something very strong happens when I’m with you. The word…” He shook his head.
“Potent,” she said.
“Exactamente.” He reached around her chest and unclasped the old-fashioned hook-and-eye closure of the bikini top. “The animal in me comes out, Genevieve. My male animal. I feel dominant. I know I will take what I want from you, and I know you will give it to me.”
Ginger nodded slowly, trying to swallow. He slipped his fingers into the sides of her bikini bottom and pulled them down her thighs, past her knees, down her calves, and to the floor. She stepped out of them.
“Does it bother you that I become so forceful when I want you?” Lucio traced a fingertip down the side of her face. “Does it scare you? I do not want to scare you, mi amor.”