My Sinful Valentine (A Beautiful Sinners Collection) by Elena Reyes (black authors fiction .txt) 📕

is. As I pass the living room the breeze sweeps around us, the large, three-panel sliding glass door connecting the outside with the inside, opens to the short path that leads to the warm Dominican waters.

Past that room, a short hallway leads us to the master bedroom, and just like I instructed those hired to clean and stock our home, the windows and French doors are wide open. The bed is turned down and I place her on the left side, removing her fuzzy socks and yoga pants—and then, because I can, I cut off her thin tank top with a small pair of scissors I find inside the en-suite bath.

I leave her in nothing but a red lace bra and panty set with her silk mask.

I leave her with the cool breeze caressing her skin after pecking those bee-stung lips.

I leave her sleeping and walk outside to the small sitting area that attaches to the large deck and pool area. That’s where I’ll wait for her. Where she’ll come to me.

Because I’m going to motherfucking devour my wife the second she steps a single foot past this threshold.

2

THERE’S A WARM yet calming breeze that caresses my skin, pulling me from a deep sleep. It’s soothing. Lulling me back to the comfort of my pillow, and yet, it’s the stillness of the room that stops me from giving in.

“When did we land?” I ask myself, pushing the soft bedsheet off my body before stretching my arms high, enjoying the quick release from my sore muscles after staying in one position for too long. The sun is high, and yet, I can’t see anything past the sleep mask I’d put on right before we took off for a much-needed vacation.

It’s my uncle’s birthday in a few days and we’ve been planning to relax as a family, Thiago’s and mine, in Cuba for a week instead of celebrating Valentine’s Day privately. And while I’m sure we’ll do something for our first as a married couple, maybe sneak away and explore the eastern side of the island that I’ve yet to visit, the current transitions occurring in their operation are more important at the moment. One of those things you sacrifice for the good of the De Leon name.

Uncle Edgar retiring from the MDPD and joining the De Leons as Thiago’s right hand the moment we return signals the start of a new era.

My family—Thiago and Ivan—have been making moves that have caught the eye of the very government of his family’s native country. Plans have grown, their support among the people of Cuba unshakable, and so have the territories they’ve claimed untouchable to anyone outside of those they trust.

Moreover, while the plane ride was meant to be a short one, I took something to help me relax. To sleep. Not because I’m afraid of planes, but because the last few weeks have been hectic. A little worrisome with opportunists trying to make a name for themselves.

Why didn’t he wake me to disembark?

Sitting up, I take off the covering and squint when the sunlight pierces. That’s also when I take notice of the large, four-poster bed I’m in and the view across from me. There’s a sliding glass door that’s open, warm-looking sand, and further down, the unmistakable blue waters of the Caribbean Sea.

But more than the beautiful scenery, I take note of my nakedness. Of the way my tank top has been cut up into pieces and tossed toward the edge of the bed. How little my lingerie hides from view, and while someone with a rational mind would freak out, I roll my eyes.

I wouldn’t put it past my husband to touch me while I’m asleep. Hell, the man has my permission to.

Breathing in deeply, I take the salty air into my lungs, and the stiffness in my shoulders begins to melt away. There’s also his scent nearby and I turn my head to the left, finding the shirt my love had on when we took off. It’s lying right beside my pillow and pulling me closer. I lean over, picking up the soft cotton and bringing it up to my nose.

“My weakness.” He’s earthy and warm; I inhale deeply and my soul calms. Everything settles and I shake off the last dredges of grogginess, throwing my legs over the edge of the bed. A different set of nerves overtakes my body, and I become jittery with want as I slip his shirt over my head.

He’s near. I can feel it.

The closer to the open glass door I get, the more this invisible rope that connects us thrums as butterflies overtake my stomach. No other man will ever have this effect on me. No one can ever measure up to Thiago. My beast.

He’s mine, and I am his. Completely. Irrevocably.

“Where are we?” My eyes scan the outside for him and find nothing but miles upon miles of endless water and pristine white beaches. It’s beautiful. My soul feels at home near the water—this unmistakable rejuvenation brings a small smile to my face a second before the grin becomes a pout. Waking up alone isn’t something I enjoy, and he knows this. “Better yet, where is the little jerk?”

My feet carry me closer to the shoreline—not giving a single fuck that I’m wearing nothing but his shirt and my underwear—I stop once the gentle waves crash upon my feet. The water is warm, and the sun warms my flesh.

From right to left, I try to search the waterline for the De Leons. I don’t hear anyone—his boisterous family and mine who left the day before—and this view isn’t one I recognize. I’ve been to the compound in Cuba, and this isn’t it.

I’m not scared, though, but my mind begins to race with all the possibilities or the reasons why plans changed. Was there