Bonding in Buenos Aires by Gabbi Black

Author:Gabbi Black [Black, Gabbi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Passport to Pleasure; Virgin; erotic romance; BDSM; power exchange; submissive; dominant; bondage; Argentina; Buenos Aires; sexy
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Published: 2022-12-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Kimberly

“This looks like sludge.” Kimberly eyed the maté with more than a little skepticism.

Joaquin held his hand to his heart. “You wound me. It’s yerba soaked in hot water.” He explained that he hadn’t soaked all the yerba at once—he kept part of it dry so she could wet it when the flavor waned. To get a more intense burst of flavor and to make the maté last longer. Or so he maintained.

MacKenzie sniffed. He shrugged, grabbed the silver straw—the bombilla—and drew a sip.

Kimberly scrutinized his face for any sense of what the man was thinking. Difficult to read was often his modus operandi. Stoic was another word for it. While Joaquin wore his heart on his sleeve, so to speak, MacKenzie played his cards close to his vest.

MacKenzie’s face broke into a wide grin, and his eyes sparkled in the morning light. “Oh, my God, this is so good. How have I not known such goodness existed in the world?”

Joaquin and Kimberly both gaped.

After a moment, MacKenzie winked at her. “Well, it isn’t sludge.”

Kimberly eyed him skeptically. “Have you ever tried sludge?”

“Well…no. Especially not the toxic stuff. I want to live for another few years.”

“Try a lot of years.” Joaquin slapped him on the back. Not lightly either. “You’re not that much older than me.”

“Twelve years.” MacKenzie’s words were cautionary.

“And I’m nine years older than him. Do you think that means he should be wary of getting involved with me as well? That numbers really matter?” She glared.

MacKenzie cocked his head. “Of course not. Just that I don’t want…” He compressed his lips as if he’d already said too much and wanted to hold the words in.

Kimberly nearly prompted him, but something in his panicked eyes had her backing down. Instead, she took a sip. And another. She rolled the taste in her mouth, trying to find a way to describe it. The taste was overwhelming and definitely bitter. She loved herbal teas, and this reminded her of that, but the bitterness stung. She thrust it back to Joaquin. “I know I said I wanted the full Argentinian experience—and I don’t want to be the stereotypical American tourist who gripes—”

“Hey.” MacKenzie’s expression was one of horror. His mouth gaped, his eyes widened, and his nose scrunched. “That’s not accurate.”

“I said stereotypical.”

“Oh, well, that’s all right, then.” Sarcasm dripped from every word.

Hit a nerve?

Joaquin took the maté and sipped for himself, a wide grin spreading across his beautiful face. “You’re Canadian, so you’re making Canadians look bad. Don’t they enjoy bitter coffee?”

“Well, if the coffee shop burns a pot, there are those who won’t let it go to waste.” She wrinkled her nose. “Yes, bitter coffee is a thing. Just not for me. I don’t like lemons or dark chocolate either. Oh, or those sour candies.”

MacKenzie bumped her shoulder. “Okay, bitter isn’t your jam.”

“Would you like me to make you a tea or a coffee?” Joaquin moved toward the kitchen. “We share our maté, you know. You wound me if you don’t.

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