“Filho da puta!” Viejo snarled, and I glanced back at him in surprise. His grin was gone, and he scowled at the man, whose features were concealed by his face mask.
“Manolo.” Dr. Avila’s single word was chiding, and his son bared his teeth at him again.
I ignored them both. Facial features never meant much to me, since I was usually on my hands and knees, so as long as my partner didn’t look like Lon Chaney Sr.’s Phantom, I didn’t care what whoever was fucking me looked like.
However, I could appreciate the broad shoulders, lean hips, and muscular arms of this Greek god. In addition, although the bay’s water had slicked his hair to his skull, I was fairly certain he was blond. Not exactly my type, but any port in a storm.
I expected my interest to stir, but it didn’t. Well, that’s unusual