Chapter 1
The midday sun warmed the terracotta tiles of the villa’s courtyard, casting soft golden light across the shaded lounge area. Alex Fraser sat comfortably at one corner of the wide rattan sofa, one leg crossed over the other, a dog-eared paperback in his hand that he’d barely been skimming. His other hand rested on his wife’s bare knee, idly stroking the warm skin there with no real thought behind it—just contentment.
Rachel lay stretched out across the length of the sofa, her head nestled in his lap. Her legs were long, toes pointed lazily, one foot brushing the far armrest. Her eyes were closed behind dark sunglasses, her breathing slow and even. The olive-green jumpsuit she wore had ridden up slightly from the heat and the way she’d shifted in sleep, the fabric clinging across her chest, the top of one breast faintly visible beneath it. Her skin was still a soft pink from the sun, slightly sensitive, warmed from yesterday’s day out. The faint chemical sweetness of chlorine still clung to her blonde hair. Alex leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, and she stirred slightly, adjusting her position on his lap, one hand brushing his thigh before she settled again with a soft, satisfied sigh. He smiled to himself and returned to pretending to read.
On the matching sofa across from them, Maria lounged with her legs curled up beneath her, flipping through a fashion magazine. Her tanned thighs were bare below her frayed denim cutoffs, which ended high enough to leave most of her legs exposed. The thin white tank top she wore hugged her chest tightly, the cotton outlining small, round breasts, nipples just visible through the fabric in the slanting light. Her brown hair fell around her cheeks in tousled waves. Her skin had a soft sheen in the heat, a light glisten along her neck and arms.
She flipped a page slowly, fingers pausing at her toned midriff, idly grazing the edge of her belly button. Her nails traced a small circle, then slowly lifted her hand to her nose, casually checking her scent. A subtle smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Her eyes flicked up and met Alex’s for just a moment before gliding back down to the page. She had noticed. She always did. The way his eyes lingered. The quiet, illicit interest he didn’t quite hide.
Rachel stirred again and murmured something about being thirsty. Alex shifted slightly beneath her, lifted her head with practiced gentleness, and laid it down softly again. He placed the paperback across her stomach and stood, stretching briefly as he turned toward the open patio doors.
He paused, halfway between the sofas, and looked over at Maria.
“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked.
Maria looked up, smiling softly. “Oh, sí. Agua… I mean, water. Thank you, Alex.” Her smile grew. “Is very hot today, no?”
He returned her smile with a nod. “Very hot. One of those days made for nothing but lounging and letting your thoughts drift.”
“Yes,” she said, the word coming out with her usual lilting accent, turning the ‘y’ into a soft ‘j’. “I hope the others bring enough water with them.”
“I’m sure they did. Abbie’s the type who always has everything covered.”
Maria gave a knowing smile. “Oh, sí. Mrs. Barker always has a plan. And a schedule.”
“And that permanent frown in her eyes if anything isn’t done exactly right,” Rachel added suddenly, lifting her head just enough to enter the conversation, her voice sleep-rough.
Maria laughed and turned to her. “Yes, she is… how do you say? Very… precise?”
“I’d say she’s anal,” Rachel said, lips curving mischievously. “But maybe don’t repeat that one to her.”
Maria tilted her head. “She is… anal? Ino understand I think.”
Alex chuckled as Rachel grinned, too delighted by her own joke. “It’s just the usual sisterly jabs,” he explained. “Abbie’s very precise, like you said. The rest of us? Not so much.”
Maria gave a little shrug and leaned back. “Yes… you two, less ‘anal’. I like this. More relaxed. More Spanish way.”
Rachel laughed again, sweet and genuine, glancing at Alex with a fond smile. He returned it, eyes catching hers briefly—long enough for her to see the flicker of heat behind his gaze, the one that always showed when she teased like that. She held his stare for a second, then closed her eyes again, sinking back into the cushions with a content hum.
Alex turned toward the kitchen and stepped inside, the cool air brushing against his skin as he crossed into the shade. His mind flashing back.
—
They’d had the villa to themselves that morning. Abbie, Rob, the kids, and Maria had gone into town for breakfast and errands. The heat was already rising by mid-morning, and the bedroom was flooded with soft white light through sheer curtains. The bedspread was bunched at the foot of the bed, forgotten.
Rachel lay on her back, knees bent, legs spread, her bare thighs glowing faintly pink under the sunlight. Her hands were sunk into the sheets, one reaching down now and then to circle her clit as Alex moved between her legs, his face buried in her cunt.
His stubble scraped gently against her soft skin, each pass of his tongue wet and hungry. He licked her slowly, dragging his mouth along her folds, then plunging his tongue deep inside her with deliberate pressure. His mouth was slick with her arousal, saliva and wetness mixing freely as he worked her open with his tongue, lips. His hands gripped her thighs, pulling her open wider, holding her steady.
Rachel moaned softly, her breath catching as she tilted her hips toward him. Her trimmed mound glistened against his mouth, slick and flushed, the faintest tremble in her abdomen with each motion. When his tongue slipped down just enough for him to catch a glimpse of her tight, puckered hole, he paused. It was right there. Bare. Winking at him.
—
He walked across the cool tiled floor, the soft slap of his flip-flops. Passing the wide marble kitchen island, his hip bumped lightly against the corner as he made his way to the sink. He reached for the large glass jug sitting on the drying rack and held it beneath the filtered tap, turning the handle and listening to the steady pour of water as it filled.
His eyes drifted back to the courtyard, to the scene outside.
Rachel still lay stretched out, half-asleep in the heat, glowing softly beneath the late morning sun. Her skin was flushed, her jumpsuit clinging in the warmth, her body relaxed and still, caught somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.
Maria had shifted positions, now propped on her side, one arm supporting her head, her legs stretched out along the length of the sofa. The denim shorts hugged her thighs tightly, the frayed edges riding high. Alex stared a little too long. The way the shorts clung to her ass, the way her tank top had crept up, exposing the firm line of her stomach. The slight dip of her navel.
He wanted to press his mouth there. To taste the salt and sun on her skin. To follow that trail. His jaw tensed slightly, and just then, the jug overflowed.
He snapped out of it, cursing under his breath, quickly turning off the tap and pouring some of the excess water down the drain. He added ice from the built-in machine, letting it clink and crackle as he poured it in. Reaching for a lime, he began slicing it. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flicker of movement—Maria smiling at something, or perhaps nothing. Distracted, the knife nicked his fingertip. Just a scratch. No blood. He muttered to himself, rolled his eyes, dropped the lime slices into the jug.
He reached into the cabinet for three tumblers, stacked them, grabbed the jug with one hand, and walked back outside.
The sun hit his shoulders as he returned to the patio, placing the jug and glasses onto the glass-topped rattan table with a quiet thud. He unstacked the tumblers and began to pour, filling each with the cool, lime-scented water. Lifting one, he turned toward Maria and offered it to her.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling warmly up at him. Her eyes met his. Her lashes were long, framing deep brown eyes that glinted softly in the light. Her lips curled as she brought the glass to her mouth and drank, her teeth flashing slightly as the rim touched them. The water slid between her lips, and a tiny bead escaped, gliding down the corner of her mouth. Her eyes fluttered shut briefly. When she looked at him again, her expression was languid, satisfied.
“Mmm, so nice. Thanks, Alex,” she said again.
“De nada, Maria,” he replied, a pleased smile on his face.
He turned, collected the other two glasses, and returned to the sofa. Rachel stirred as he sat beside her, eyes blinking open beneath her sunglasses just as he leaned down and kissed her on the lips. Her hand reached for the glass instinctively.
“Mm… thank you so much, my love,” she said, lifting it with both hands and taking a deep, thirsty gulp. Water spilled slightly from the edge of the glass, a few drops landing on her jumpsuit just above her breasts. She gasped softly and smiled again. “So thirsty.”
She drank again, slower this time, and leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. He slipped an arm around her as she snuggled in, holding her glass awkwardly between her thighs. Her breath was still slow, her body not fully awake yet.
Alex’s gaze drifted back to Maria. She still held her glass near her lips, taking another small sip. A stream of water tipped into her mouth, and droplets clung to the soft pink of her lips. She smiled again, faintly, to herself—or maybe for him. His eyes slipped lower, slowly, subtly, tracing the shimmer of moisture at the base of her throat, over the delicate line of her collarbone, and then downward again. Her nipples were still visible beneath the snug cotton tank, slightly stiff in the heat or perhaps from the cold of the water.
“Would you mind if I smoke?” Maria asked, holding the empty glass lightly in her fingers. “Cigarette.”
“Of course not, honey,” Rachel said, brushing her fingers across Alex’s leg. “You don’t even have to ask. Sweet that you did, though.”
“Yes, thank you. But I never smoke when the niños are here. I don’t want them to know I do. Or…”
“My sister either?” Rachel finished with a grin.
Maria gave a sheepish smile. “Sí… she does not like it either. I think.”
Rachel laughed. “No. She wouldn’t. Not now, anyway. But she used to.”
“Sí? She smoked?”
“Oh yes. She smoked a lot. Marlboro Reds, I think. Strong ones. Used to blow little smoke rings, flirting in her tiny blue hot pants and her Guns ’n’ Roses shirt.”
“Hot pants?” Maria echoed curiously, her accent wrapping around the word.
“Jean shorts,” Rachel explained, gesturing toward Maria’s legs. “Like yours.”
Maria looked down at herself, then repeated it with a grin. “Hot pants. I like that.”
“You should. Legs like that. Body like that. Very hot pants, Maria.”
Rachel’s tone was light, admiring, friendly but affectionate. Maria blushed a little at the compliment, glancing down again, smoothing the fabric along her thigh.
“Thank you, Rachel. That is very sweet.”
Alex stayed silent, keeping his own thoughts about Maria’s shorts to himself. He simply gave Rachel’s shoulder a squeeze. But his eyes, again, found their way back to Maria.
She reached into her tote and retrieved a battered pack of Gauloises Blue. With graceful fingers she slid one cigarette free, then rummaged again for her lighter. Alex kissed Rachel’s cheek lightly as he watched her.
