forward, she pressed her hand against his chest and breathed out unevenly. His skin was warm and smooth and taut, just as she’d imagined. And beneath it she could feel his heart hammering in time with hers.
He sucked in a breath, his jaw tightening. In his narrowed eyes she could see desire fighting with control, and she felt her breath dissolve as he reached up and stroked her cheek.
For a moment their eyes locked, and they breathed each other in, and then, leaning forward, she brushed her lips hesitantly against his, her mouth clumsy with the freedom of touching him.
‘I don’t even know your name...’ he whispered against her mouth.
‘It doesn’t matter.’
She kissed him again and he pulled back a little, his fierce green gaze trained on her face. She knew that he was giving her space to think, time to change her mind.
Her heart was racing. Should she say something? Tell him that this wasn’t who she was ordinarily? That she’d changed her mind. Only she couldn’t say that because it would be a lie.
And it would mean stopping, and she didn’t want to stop. She didn’t want to think or speak or explain. She just wanted to lose herself in this moment, lose herself in him, because right now this was what she was, and he was who she wanted.
Threading her fingers through his hair, she pulled him closer. Instantly he pulled her closer too, angling his body, his tongue, to deepen the kiss. His hands slid beneath her blouse, moving over her back from her hip to her waist, up to the catch of her bra.
He stripped her out of her clothing and pulled her onto his lap so that she was straddling him. Lowering his mouth, he kissed her breast, brushing his lips against one nipple and then the other, and in a heartbeat her body turned to liquid.
The intensity of her desire was both a shock and a revelation. Always before it had been a slow and steady progress. This was like throwing a match on gasoline—a pure white-hot blazing urgency that blotted out everything but a need for more.
His hands were at her waist, pulling her down. His mouth was seeking hers now, and instinctively she reached for his buckle.
Groaning, he grabbed her wrists. ‘Let’s go to your room.’ He was fighting to get the words out.
‘No.’ Tugging her hands free, she pulled the belt open, and then the zip, and felt his body tense as her fingers wrapped around him.
He groaned again, his hands stilling hers. ‘I don’t have any condoms.’
‘I don’t either.’
For a moment, she was shocked. In the heat of everything, she had forgotten. But his words reassured her, for clearly he was a responsible lover, and the fact that he was holding back made her feel that she could trust him.
‘It’s okay.’ Leaning forward, she looped her arms around his neck and kissed him fiercely.
Groaning, he raised his hips, shrugging himself free of his trousers, and then he leaned backwards, taking her with him.
His pupils flared and for a second she rode him lightly, teasing the hard, straining length of him, revelling in her power to arouse him. And then, gripping his shoulders for balance, she parted her legs and guided him inside her.
He breathed in sharply. His jaw was taut with concentration, the muscles in his arms and chest bunching as she began to rock back and forth, her breath quickening in her throat as his fingers moved between her thighs, working in time to the fervent, pulsing ache there.
His eyes locked on hers—dark, rapt, blazing. ‘Mírame! Look at me,’ he said, his voice hoarse.
She was fighting for control. Heat was gathering inside her and she clutched frantically at his arms, pulling him closer and then pushing him away, needing to let go but wanting to make it last for ever.
Her muscles clenched, her breathless body gripping his. She felt his hands catch in her hair and suddenly she couldn’t bear it any longer. Arching against him, she tensed against the heat and the hardness, shuddering helplessly. He groaned, pushing against her, seeking more depth, and then, gasping into her mouth, he thrust upwards.
SLOWLY CÉSAR BREATHED OUT, his eyes blinking open. For a moment he didn’t know where he was—and then he remembered. He must have fallen asleep for a moment, lulled by the languid warmth of her body and the sudden heaviness of his own limbs.
Fixing his eyes on the ceiling, he frowned. It had been a long time since he had held a woman close like this, more than a decade, at least. But then today had been exceptional for any number of reasons.
His chest tightened as he felt the most exceptional of those reasons shift beside him.
Glancing down at her naked body curled around his, he felt his pulse accelerate. He’d just done the one thing he’d sworn never to do again—he’d let his libido dictate his actions.
He grimaced. As if he needed any reminding about the consequences of that youthful, humiliating indiscretion. They were branded in his conscience and he could still feel his parents’ shock and disappointment across the years. After he’d made such a fool of himself with Celia he’d sworn never to let a woman get under his skin. And he’d kept his promise.
Until today.
Until...
He gritted his teeth. Maldita sea! Thanks to his sudden and completely uncharacteristic loss of self-control he didn’t even know her name, but the strength and speed of his desire had caught him unawares. He should have fobbed her off on the road. Better still, he should have called Andreas, his head of security, and let him deal with her. It was his job, after all. But instead he’d let himself be distracted by a curving pink mouth.
He could have called a halt when she’d leaned forward and kissed him with that same perfect, pink mouth, but as her lips had melted against his, his brain, his body, his self-control had gone into meltdown. His past, his promises had been forgotten. Nothing had mattered but her. His whole being had been fixed on the need to touch and taste every inch of her, and even now his still-hungry body was clamouring for more.
But perfect pink lips could still lie and deceive and frankly there was no need for him to go there again. He might have been young, but he was a quick learner—and that lesson had been well and truly drummed into him.
His mouth twisted. So what now?
As though she could hear his thoughts, the woman shifted against him, and instantly his groin began to ache. Reluctant to reveal the hard proof of her ability to turn him on, he started to move. But she was already inching backwards, peeling her damp skin away from his and scooping up the muddle of clothes from the floor in one graceful movement.
Was she practised at this?
The thought snagged in his head and then he pushed it quickly away. It was none of his business, and besides he wasn’t in any position to judge.
‘Here,’ she murmured. ‘These are yours.’
Looking up, he gritted his teeth.
She was pulling her blouse over her head and, catching a glimpse of her pale, curving breast, he felt his skin twitch, his body hardening and aching with a sudden, sharp, serrated hunger. She looked impossibly sexy, and suddenly the heated, passion-filled minutes of earlier felt like just a taster before the main meal.
He wanted more. He wanted to feel that soft skin next to his and the whisper of her breath against his mouth.
He felt another twitch of desire—although this time it might just as easily have been irritation.
Obviously he wanted more.
His last ‘relationship’ had ended