If he didn’t spend the money, he could pretend it wasn’t there. He could avoid thinking about why he was off traveling in the first place, or how his life had changed, or whether he deserved his success at all.
With Julia, though, he didn’t want to think. He knew the first step to showing her a wickedly good time would be a room with an ocean view. He’d walked by the hotels on the beach the last time he was in Rio but hadn’t gone in. Now he had a second chance. A chance to enjoy what he had.
They pulled up in front of a tastefully ornate building bordered by tall palm trees rustling in the ocean breeze. Blake was glad to see Julia’s eyes widen, taking everything in. The hotel was part of a strip along the beach, amidst the bustle of the street, the crash of the waves, the colors and sounds of the busy morning getting underway. It was honeymoon suites and “May I take your bags, sir?” on one side of the street, and on the other, bathing suits, white sand, beach umbrellas, and a blue so bright and endless it stretched into sky.
He got them a room on the top floor, with broad windows that looked over the whole stretch of land. They could see the street below and then the crescent of sand that made up Copacabana Beach. To the right, where the tip of one crescent swept back into another curve, was Ipanema, and more beaches extending farther beyond. To the left they could just make out the distinct hump of the famous Sugar Loaf Mountain jutting straight out of the sea.
That was Rio, a city of contrasts. Mountains, oceans, skyscrapers, sprawling slums known as favelas, everything jammed together and not enough lifetimes to ever experience it all. He was torn between wanting to rush out and do everything and wanting to stay in and do everything to Julia before he lost the chance.
She solved his problem of what to do with one word: breakfast.
Blake tossed her the room service menu. She flopped down on the bed, kicking off her sandals, and rolled over onto her stomach. He rolled on top of her to see the menu over her shoulder and they laughed while the sun streamed through the windows, the city spread out below.
They ordered fresh guava juice, coffee, and tomato omelets that came with fruit and a basket of muffins on the side. They sat out on the balcony at a table set for two and dove in, famished from the long bus ride. Julia stretched her legs and rested her feet on the railing, looking out at the water and wiggling her toes.
“This is perfect,” she sighed as she speared another piece of star fruit.
“See? I told you. I walked by here when I was in Rio before and thought to myself, Damn. If only I could stay in that hotel eating breakfast with a beautiful woman.”
“I’m so sorry your wish couldn’t come true.” Julia laughed, and he threw a napkin at her.
“Yeah, it’s too bad I got stuck with a Julia instead,” he teased, and she picked up the napkin and tossed it back. “More coffee?”
She held out her mug. “You’re going to spoil me, treating me like this,” she commented, gesturing at the view before them.
He lowered the coffee pot back on the table and looked at her intently. “Oh no,” he said in his most serious voice. “I fully intend to ruin you.”
“Be careful what you wish for. You’re already well on your way.” Julia smiled and sunk down in her chair, basking in the sun. She was all legs in those shorts, and Blake reminded himself that he was supposed to be eating his breakfast, not just looking at her.
But Jamie’s talk had been a wake-up call. Blake didn’t want to waste this time. Sure, as soon as he’d implied he wasn’t coming, he’d wanted her to protest—to let down her guard and admit that it mattered whether he came to Rio or not. But even though she hadn’t, he wasn’t going to force himself away. He was here, and she was here, and nothing else was worth thinking about.
Finally, when they were so full they couldn’t eat another bite, Julia made her way inside and Blake heard the sound of the shower coming on as he picked at the remaining crumbs on his plate. He stood and leaned against the railing, straining to take in the full view of the mountains and the endless beach.
He’d spent only four days here before moving on, and when he left, all he’d been able to think of was how much he wanted to return. But the open road had been calling him, and the falls, and Argentina, and he’d kept pressing on. That was when he’d had his itinerary laid out for himself, dividing up his months of travel to make sure he hit every spot on his list.
Now, though, that list was totally out the window. And instead of fearing that he might be missing out on something, thinking he should have been exploring a new city rather than back in one he’d already seen, he wondered if it might not be so important to keep moving on.
Blake yawned and headed back inside. The hotel room was spacious, with a king-sized bed in the middle, a dark sofa plush with pillows, and a long polished console with drawers, a minibar, and a flat-screen TV. He sat down on the bed and picked up the remote. It had been ages since he’d watched any television. He was familiar with the telenovelas that were popular in Brazil—loud, dramatic soap operas that played in every house and restaurant. He had no idea what was going on in any of them, except there was always a lot of sobbing. The Everlastings was often called a soap opera, but Blake knew his show didn’t have anything on the real thing. There was drama, yes, but not even he could have come up with the plotline where a woman’s maid came back from the dead to steal her husband. Or at least that’s what Blake thought had happened, based on the snippets he’d seen.
But he didn’t really want to know what was going on in the television world. Before he brought the mute screen to life, he had a better idea. Closing the thin curtains, he stripped off his T-shirt and cargo shorts and dropped them to the floor.
He opened the bathroom door to a waft of steam and her long, lean figure blurry behind the dimpled glass of the shower stall door. She was facing the water, standing under it as it poured over her. He stood in the doorway, transfixed, until she called out, “You planning on showering or just watching?”
Her skin was warm and soft from the water, and he was torn between how good it felt to touch her and how good it was to let the hot water pour over him. They spent far too long enjoying the luxury, Julia rubbing soap over his back, him slipping a hand between her legs as she passed the shampoo. But it was when she rested her hands on his shoulders, her forearms on his chest, and kissed him with such longing that he felt his cock press against her, desire come to life in the enveloping steam.
Julia went to drop to her knees but Blake had only one thing on his mind. He shut the water off and lifted her by her shoulders. She was pouting like he was spoiling the fun, but he didn’t even bother getting a towel to dry them off. He lifted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist and his cock pressed up between them as he carried her laughing to the bed. He leaned her down and pulled the covers back.
Julia lying on the bed, dark hair spread over the pristine white sheets. Julia’s molten eyes flashing as he kissed her from her forehead to her bellybutton and paused to look up, drinking in that smoldering look as he trailed his lips the rest of the way down. Julia arching her back, fingers gripping the sheets as he lowered his lips to kiss her thighs and then brought his tongue flat and firm across the small, eager nub of her clit.
He had been waiting all night to be alone with her like this, to lay her down and taste her, and she was just as firm and tight and wet and open and gasping and eager as he’d been imagining in his mind nonstop since she brought him all the pleasure in the world by going down on him. She was propped up by the pillows and he lay on his stomach, his feet hanging off the edge of the bed, his cock straining into the mattress as he turned to steel while she opened herself to his tongue. She was so sweet, so deliciously female, and so responsive that he had no trouble following what she liked. It felt like they fit together exactly, like he knew how to flick his tongue where she wanted, fast strokes and then deeper lashes that made her legs tremble as they clenched around his face.