Breathe by Lauren Jameson Page B

slightly nauseous, but wasn’t sure if that was a result of stuffing her face after unwittingly fasting for twenty-four hours, or if it was because of what she was about to ask. “I have a . . . question to ask about Angelo.”
    “About Angelo?” Jorge wiped the counter in front of Samantha with a white rag, and she caught the scent of lemon cleaner as he moved. “ Sí , what is it?”
    “Ah, well . . .” Samantha trained her eyes on the wall behind him as she gathered her courage. She hated that she felt embarrassed to ask about something she truly wanted, but she knew she was about to shock her friend to the core.
    “ Preciosa , you can tell me anything. You know that.” Jorge caught one of Samantha’s hands in his and looked into her eyes. She was startled when she found a flicker of something more than friendship reflected in the depths.
    It threw her off guard enough that she blurted out what was circling her mind.
    “Angelo is into BDSM, right?” She cringed when she caught Jorge’s expression. Apart from one drunken night with the two brothers in which Angelo had mentioned that he was a part of the BDSM lifestyle, it wasn’t something they’d talked about. She’d known that she would shock Jorge, but she wasn’t prepared for the heat that crossed his face as well.
    “Sí.” Jorge looked her up and down and Samantha squirmed under the stare. “He is—how do you say?—Dominant. He makes no secret of it. Why are you asking this, Samantha?”
    Samantha picked up her coffee cup and took a long swallow to hide her discomfiture. This next question—this was the hard part.
    “I want to go to Devorar, and I was wondering if he would go with me.” She set her cup down on the counter with a sharp clack, felt the jolt reverberate through her wrist as Jorge studied her face.
    “You are interested in such things?” The sexy Latin man pinned her with that intense stare, and Samantha felt like a fly pinned to a wall. “You have never gone to a club?”
    “I . . . yes.” Samantha wouldn’t soften her true desires just to make them sound less shocking. “Yes, I am very interested. There are things I . . . that I think I might find there. And, no, I’ve never been to a club. That’s why I don’t want to go alone.”
    Jorge cocked his head, still studying her.
    “I do not think you are submissive,” he said finally. Samantha’s pensive expression melted sharply into a scowl.
    Just because she could be outspoken, just because she knew nothing else besides taking charge, didn’t mean she didn’t want to have that control taken away from her.
    “How would you know?” she snapped, irritated enough that she didn’t try to soften her voice. “It’s not your thing, is it? That’s why I asked about Angelo, not you.”
    Jorge nodded, his expression thoughtful. “This is true.” He steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “I did not find what I was looking for in the dynamics of such a relationship. That does not mean I am ignorant of the lifestyle, however. My brother has practiced it for over ten years, and I dabbled in it when I was younger.”
    “You?” Samantha eyed the man incredulously, then cursed herself for making assumptions about him just as he had about her. Still, he hadn’t mentioned it the one time they’d spoken of it, nearly a year earlier, so it caught her by surprise.
    Jorge could be a bit domineering, but he’d never made it a secret that he liked bossy women who took charge—women like her, she realized with a sinking sensation in her stomach.
    Oh, she was so blind.
    The hand in which Jorge clenched her fingers tightened. She bit her lower lip nervously and looked up to find that spark of desire out in full force.
    “For you, I would try it again. If that is truly what you want.”
    Samantha sucked in a mouthful of air. How had she not seen this coming?
    When she’d first moved to Mexico she’d felt . . . free. But she’d also felt a bit lonely, homebody