For now, I go into the bathroom and close the door behind me. I don’t lock it . . . just in case there’s a sliver of a chance Olivia changes her mind. I undo my belt and tug down my dress pants just enough to free my aching cock. Then I squirt some of her scented lotion into my palm and begin to stroke myself.

Her light, feminine scent surrounds me, and the sensations tingling along my spine mean this won’t take long. For the second time this week, I work my big hand up and down my cock, wishing it were her small, delicate hand instead.

Memories of tonight in the restaurant restroom flash through my mind like an erotic dream. God, she was so ready after just a few minutes of banter and kissing. Her rosy nipples were tightened into little buds, and when I sucked and licked, they pebbled against my tongue. She tasted so sweet and made the best little grunting whimpers I’ve ever heard.

And then when I slipped my fingers into her panties—I half expected her to tell me to stop, only she didn’t. Instead, she stepped her heeled feet further apart. The tiniest possible movement, but I was so attuned to her, I noticed. She wanted me to touch her. Craved it just as badly as I did. She was warm and wet, sweet, silky perfection. And when I slipped two fingers inside, I almost came right then. Her cunt was so tight, it gripped my fingers and sucked at them, greedy for me to fuck her.

I shudder at the memory. So perfect. Beautiful. Intelligent. Sexual. She’s the total package.

A few more long pulls and I come hard with a grunt.

• • •

“Are you sure about this?” Olivia asks.

Her gaze wanders over to the couple dozen partygoers scattered across Rosita’s lawn. People are laughing and chatting in small groups, and upbeat Mexican pop plays from a boom box on the patio. The chain-link fence separates her yard from an auto shop behind her house. A single tree stands tall in the center with a festive piñata hanging from a branch.

“Of course. This is going to be great. Come on.” I tug her toward Rosita and the birthday girl, Maria.

I drop down to one knee in front of her. “Wow. Thirty-six today, huh?”

She shakes her head, her braided pigtails bobbing wildly. “No. I’m seven!” she boasts.

“Ah, seven. Well, happy birthday.” I give her a wink and she wrinkles her nose. She’s definitely still at the age where boys are gross. “That’s a very pretty dress you have on today.”

She looks down at her hot-pink dress with decorative tangerine stitching. “Thank you. My mommy made it.” She smiles up at Rosita.

When I rise to my feet, I give Rosita a hug. “Everything looks great. Thank you for inviting us.”

“Of course, mi amor. Thank you for coming,” she says to both me and Olivia. It was a one-hour drive to Jersey, but well worth it.

“Of course,” Olivia echoes, her smile only a little guarded. She’s obviously out of her element here, but trying her best to cope.

“Please, enjoy yourselves. There’s plenty to eat, and drinks are inside.”

I survey the picnic table that’s so overloaded, not an inch of tabletop is showing. Empanadas, carne asada, arroz con pollo, a bunch of things I don’t recognize but am game to try, and a beautiful tres leches cake in the center of it all.

“You made enough to feed an army,” I say with a chuckle.

“My family has big appetites.” Rosita grins wryly at me.

I hand my gift bag to Rosita. It has a couple of Spanish chapter books for Maria. I know that keeping her family’s culture alive and ensuring her kids are bilingual is important to Rosita. It’s something she and I have talked about before, and I think it’s damn smart. Anyone who knows two languages will have a leg up in the business world when the time comes.

“Oh, you didn’t have to bring a gift. Your presence here is enough.”

I shake my head. “Of course I brought a gift. What birthday party is complete without a big pile of presents?”

Rosita’s smile falls slightly. “Things are a little tight right now. I made Maria’s gifts myself this year.”

Oh shit. I meant to make a playful idle comment, not call attention to the small gift pile.

“Is everything okay?”

Rosita nods. “With all the uncertainty at work right now, I’m trying to stretch our budget and put something away for savings. Just in case.”

Her gaze darts between Olivia and me as if she’s looking for answers. With her having six kids, I know her budget didn’t have much wiggle room to begin with.

I take Rosita’s hands in mine and give them a squeeze. “Everything will be okay, I promise. I’m going to make sure of it.”

Olivia shifts uncomfortably next to me. Even with all the sexual tension buzzing between us, we still have a job to do. And that’s never been more evident than now.

“Enough about all that,” Rosita says, strengthening her smile again. “You two go have fun.” She wanders away, heading toward her cousin, who I met at last year’s Christmas party.

“Are you hungry?” I ask Olivia. The food smells incredible, and Rosita is an amazing cook. I plan on sampling every dish on the table. Maybe twice.

She nods. “Starving, actually, but I’m not sure.” Her brow creases as she looks over the colorful dishes of steaming food.

“What’s wrong?”

She glances around. “I’m just looking for a knife and fork.”

I realize that she’s wary of spilling food on her expensive blouse.