Crossed Desires

A BEAUTIFUL MORNING

Miguel

It's six in the morning. I get up, go to the bathroom, and take a shower. When I return to bed, I see my girlfriend's naked body lying face down, her bare back exposed while the white sheets cover part of her.

She looks so beautiful—like the goddess Aphrodite. I'm crazy about her. She's the light of my eyes, and I love her so much. I've planned a trip to Barú, to my parents' estate, where I intend to ask her to be my wife.



But I don't know how to do it—maybe on the beach, or in some luxurious restaurant nearby. I want it to be unforgettable. I had wanted it to be with both my parents and hers, but that's impossible. They would never go there. In fact, I think that if they ever found out, it would be like meteorites falling from the sky, destroying all my plans with her.

So I'll have to settle for just my best friends, Brat and Jon, since I can't count on my parents. But Brat doesn't want to go. I don't know what to do to convince him. He doesn't want to meet her. I've been insisting for years, but he simply refuses.

Brat is my best friend. We met when we were eight years old at school, and when we found out our parents owned shares in the same company, we became almost like brothers. I've always supported him in everything. He was raised by his mother and grandparents, since his father never had time for him.

He has always had problems with his father because of his way of being, although I think they're very alike—both in looks and in character. Brat's life hasn't been easy.

When he was eight, his grandfather, Mr. Dominick—Walter's father—died. He loved Brat dearly and was very special to him, but his father, Mr. Walter, was always strict.

Then came his mother's illness. She died of breast cancer. Brat spent practically all his time with her and with Amelia's father, who gave everything for his grandson. He was a great support throughout her illness. When Brat was ten, his mother died after her long fight, and he was left in the care of Amelia's father, Antonio Hatha. Two years later, his grandfather also passed away.

Mr. Walter was never there for him. He always hired people to take care of him, since he lived only for his work. That's why Brat and his father don't get along. Brat reproaches him for leaving his mother alone when she needed him most. After his mother's death, Brat and I grew even closer. My mother adores him, and so does my father. But speaking of parents—that's another problem.

They don't accept my girlfriend. According to them, she's not on my level. They want me to be with Carla, Henry's daughter—the second largest shareholder of the company.

I've had long arguments with them, and now I don't know how to tell them that I intend to marry Gaby. They're not bad parents—they love me—but I know they won't accept it.

But I want to marry her. I'm tired of dealing with my insecurities. I don't want anyone to take her away from me. She's too beautiful. I want to wake up every single day with her in my arms, see her in my bed, and know she's mine—so people will stop chasing her.

She says it's just in my head, but I know more than one man desires her. The only thing that has kept me from making her my wife is my parents, who don't like her at all. But that ends now, because I'm going to marry her, no matter what they say.

I move closer to her, trailing my lips down her bare back until I reach her firm, voluptuous hips. I grab them, squeeze them, and kiss her with the deep desire to make her mine once more. She stirs sleepily, turns toward me, and gives me a beautiful smile that fills my soul.

'Good morning, darling...' I say.

I fasten my lips to hers, hungry, panting with desire as her hand reaches for me.

'Good morning, love...' she whispers.

I kiss her with intensity, caressing every exquisite inch of her body. The kiss grows deeper, more urgent, until we are tangled in each other, rolling across the bed, lost in desperate kisses and touches. But I decide to stop, because I have to leave.

'Sweetheart, I have to go...' I say, pulling away. 'I need to talk to my father about something important concerning the company.'

She pouts in disappointment, and I don't blame her. I want to stay with her, doing everything I crave—but I can't. Responsibility calls.

'I thought we'd spend the whole day together...' she says.

'I know, love. I thought the same. But I can't. And tonight I have a business dinner. But if you'd like, we can have lunch together. I'll pick you up at your house, and we can spend the afternoon together until I have to leave. Or you could come with me to the dinner. What do you say?' I tell her, wrapping my arms around her waist and kissing her.

She makes a face, and I know she doesn't like the idea. And I understand. I'd skip it if I could, but I can't.

'Nooo, I don't feel like it. I don't like those dinners where they talk about things I don't understand with snobby people. I'd rather stay home. Let's just have lunch after I get back from the gym, okay?' she says, pouting again.

I pout too, disappointed, because I really wanted her to come. But what can I do?

'Alright, but behave yourself...' I say, giving her a playful smack on her backside. 'I'll pick you up for lunch.'

She smiles and kisses me.

'Okay...' she replies.

I ask her where I should pick her up.

'At your house or at the gym?' I ask.

I kiss her again, my hands roaming possessively.

'At my house...' she says, her lips still pressed to mine.

Reluctantly, I pull away from her. I have to go.

'Stay in bed a little longer, it's still early...' I say, squeezing her again before winking at her.

She smiles at me as I leave. I head down to the parking lot, get into my car, and drive off, thinking about all the promises I've made to her.

And I know she's very patient with me, because I hardly dedicate time to her. That's my biggest fear—that someone might take advantage of my absence and steal her away from me.

I can't even bear the thought. I love her too much to resign myself to losing her.

Dear readers, don't forget to vote and leave your comments—they motivate me to keep writing for you with love. This is Francia, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter of Miguel.

Don't miss the next chapters—they're going to be on fire!