And lowering his head, he pulled her body roughly against his, and kissed her once more, hot and hard.
CHAPTER SIX
CALLIE’S mouth parted in a gasp as she felt the smooth satin of his lips, the sweet rough fire of his tongue. She felt the warm strength of his arms around her, and in the dark, cold solitude of Central Park, surrounded by snow and the bare black trees of winter, she felt an explosion of heat.
Murmuring words in Spanish, Eduardo tightened his embrace as he held her against his chest. She dimly felt the icy wind against her cheek as tendrils of her light brown hair blew all around them, but the sensation of his lips against hers felt like a thousand flickers of fire.
As he kissed her, a sigh escaped her lips and she tilted her head back to deepen the embrace. Feeling his body so strong and hard against hers, her endless longing could no longer be repressed. With a soft moan, she wrapped her arms around his neck. She no longer felt the cold air against her skin, the frigid ground beneath her feet. She barely heard the distant traffic of the city and the wind through the bare trees. The night was frozen and dark, but Callie felt hot as a summer’s day, lit up from within.
Eduardo’s hands stroked her back, down her bare arms. Prickles of need spiraled through her everywhere he touched. Everywhere he didn’t touch.
His lips gentled against hers, seducing and enticing where they’d once demanded and taken. Memories of another winter night went through Callie, leaving her lost in time, as if all the grief and pain of the last year hadn’t happened, and she’d teleported back into the most perfect night of her life.
She wrapped her fingers in his hair. He felt so good, so powerful and masculine. His warrior’s body made her feel feminine and small, and as he kissed her, as his sensual mouth moved against hers, she was completely beneath his control….
Then, with a harsh intake of breath, Eduardo pulled away. Taking his phone from his pants pocket, he dialed. “Sanchez,” he panted, never looking away from Callie. “Outside. At the corner.”
Hanging up, he put the phone in his pocket and reached for her, lifting her back into his arms.
“You don’t need to carry me,” she whispered. “I’m not cold.”
He looked down at her almost pleadingly. “Let me.”
Exhaling, she relaxed into the warmth of his arms, and Eduardo carried her back down the path, stopping to pick up each of her shoes, holding Callie with one arm as if she weighed nothing at all. When they reached Central Park South, he put the high-heeled shoes on her feet and gently set her down on the sidewalk.
“Thank you,” she said, shivering, but not from cold.
Without a word, he pulled off his black tuxedo jacket and wrapped it around her bare shoulders and sparkling silver dress. His eyes were dark, his voice deep. “Never thank me. It is what I want to do. Take care of you.”
Callie swallowed, her mouth dry, her heart pounding as she leaned against him. Thick snowflakes, illuminated by streetlights, started to fall from the dark sky. Was it really possible that Eduardo had been celibate for a year, longing for her? That he’d known the same feelings she had … The lonely bed, the regret, and most of all: the endless craving …?
Her mind told her it was impossible, but his kiss had told her differently.
“Callie,” he whispered. “You know what I’m going to do to you when we get home.”
Her heartbeat went crazy, her breathing became quick and shallow and she felt a little dizzy. He wanted her. She wanted him. But the last time he’d made love to her, the joy and heartbreak had nearly killed her. Their marriage was ending in just a few hours. She was so close to being free …
But suddenly, freedom from Eduardo sounded like death. Wrapping her arms around him, she placed her cheek against his white tuxedo shirt and closed her eyes, listening to the beat of his heart. They remained there, holding each other silently, as the soft snowflakes fell in their hair and tangled in their eyelashes.
“The car’s here.” His voice was hoarse. She opened her eyes and he led her into the backseat of the limo. As Sanchez drove them from the curb, Eduardo didn’t seem to care who might see as he turned to her. Reaching out his hands, he cupped her face. He lowered his head toward hers.
At the last instant before their lips touched, she turned her head away. “I can’t.”
“Can’t?” he said hoarsely. “Why? Because—because you love someone else?”
She looked at him in the backseat of the car. His face was so impossibly handsome that her heart twisted in her chest. Every inch of her body was crying out to be in his arms, but lifting her chin, she forced herself to say, “I’m afraid.”
He blinked. “Afraid?”
Afraid it will rip my heart apart so thoroughly that the pieces will never be glued back together. “I’m afraid … it wasn’t part of our deal.” She swallowed. “Our marriage is in name only.”
Eduardo’s sensual lips curved. “What gave you that idea?”
“At the courthouse, when we got the marriage license, you said—”
“You called it a marriage of convenience. Which it is. But I never said it would be a marriage in name only. I promised to remain faithful, and I have. But I cannot suffer, wanting you, for the rest of my life.”
“You don’t have to. Tomorrow is our three-month anniversary. Our marriage is over.” She paused, suddenly confused by the look in his eyes. “Isn’t it?”
“No.” His eyes glittered in the Christmas lights as they drove through the city. “There will be no divorce.”
Time seemed to stop for Callie.
Behind his head, she dimly saw the bright lights illuminating the colorful displays in shop windows. “But you said three months!”
“I changed my mind.” He scowled at her. “From the day I held our baby, I knew that whatever I’d once planned, our marriage would be—must be—permanent. That is the best way to raise our child. The only way. I’d hoped you would come to realize that.”
“But you said you’d divorce me,” she whispered. The will-o’-the-wisp Christmas lights seemed to be dancing away, disappearing along with her dreams of returning home to her family. “You promised. You said our marriage was just to make our child legitimate, to give her your name!”
His eyes had turned utterly cold, his body taut beneath his tuxedo. “You should be pleased,” he said stiffly. “As my wife, you have everything you could possibly want. A fortune at your disposal, beautiful homes, servants, clothes and jewels.”
“But what about …” Her throat closed and she looked away. “What about the people I love?”
“You’ll love your children,” he ground out.
Wide-eyed, she turned back to face him. “Children?” she stammered. “As in … more than one?”
He narrowed his eyes. “It is lonely to be an only child. Marisol needs siblings. Sisters to play with. Brothers to protect her.”
Callie stared at him, remembering what she’d heard about Eduardo’s poverty-stricken childhood in Spain, about his mother who’d run off with her lover, and his proud, humiliated father, who’d shot himself in the aftermath with an old World War II rifle. At ten years old, Eduardo had been shipped off to a great-aunt he’d never met in New York, and even she had died when he was eighteen. He had no one. He was alone.
She couldn’t even imagine it. As much as the restrictive rules of her old-fashioned parents had chafed her, and as much as her little sister had irritated her on a regular basis, Callie couldn’t imagine being an only child—and an orphan to boot, whose parents had both chosen to abandon her. Sympathy choked her, but then she hardened her heart. “So just like that, you expect me to agree? You expect us to remain married, to have more children? To plan it all in such a cold-blooded fashion?”
Glaring at her, he sat back in the car seat, folding his arms. “Marisol will be wanted. She will be safe and loved. She will have two parents and a home. There will be no divorce.”
Horrified, Callie stared at him.
St
ay Eduardo’s wife?
Forever?
Her heart twisted in her chest. It was all like some strange dream. For a moment she was mesmerized by his certainty. Perhaps Eduardo was right. Perhaps it would be better for Marisol … better for everyone.
But how could she stay married to him, loving him as she did? He still wanted to be married to her for one reason only: to give their child a good home. How could Callie spend the rest of her life giving him her love, when all he wanted was—at most—her body?
Could she sacrifice her heart, and all hope of ever being loved? Could she spend the rest of her life feeling unloved and alone, in order to give her child the home she deserved?
Swallowing, Callie lifted her chin. “My family would have to be part of Marisol’s life. And mine. I miss them. My parents and my sister and—” She cut herself off, but too late.
A sneer rose to his lips. “And Brandon McLinn, of course. His light still glows so brightly in your heart.” He set his jaw, turning away. “You disappoint me.”
Controlling herself with a deep breath, she didn’t rise to his bait. “It was unreasonable of you to block me from seeing him. The only reason I went along with your demand was because I knew that as soon as the three months was over I could—”
“Yes.” His eyes were hard as he glared at her. “I know exactly what you were planning to do.”
The limousine stopped and Sanchez opened the door. Miserably she followed Eduardo out of the car. Why did he always take things so wrong? Why did he persist in being jealous of Brandon?
Eduardo didn’t even look at her as they walked through the lobby of their building. The hot passion of Central Park seemed to have evaporated like smoke. He pressed the button, and they stood without touching, waiting silently in front of the private elevator.
Then he abruptly turned to face her, his hands clenched.
“I’ve left you alone too long,” he ground out, his eyes dark. “I was trying to give you space to grieve the past and accept your new life. To embrace your future as my wife.” Furiously he seized her in his arms. “But I see I took the wrong path with you. I should have staked my claim long ago.”
Callie stared up at him, her eyes wide with shock. “You can’t—”
Tightening his grip on her, he brought his mouth down on hers in a hard, punishing kiss. Trembling, she tried to push him away, but he was too strong for her. Especially when his lips tasted like sweet fire …
The door to the elevator opened with a ding, and Eduardo lifted her up into his arms. He looked down at her fiercely.
“Tonight, wife,” he growled, “I’m taking back my bed.”
The elevator door hadn’t even closed before he was pressing her against the mirrored wall, his mouth hard and hungry against hers. Callie had given up any thought of resisting. In fact, she’d given up any thought altogether. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she returned his kiss with equal hunger. He released her, letting her body slide down his, and she felt his hard desire for her. She felt hot, wearing his tuxedo jacket, and through the thin cotton of his shirt, she felt the strength and heat of his body as he held her tight and kissed her, so long and hard and deep that she prayed he’d never let her go.
At the ding of the elevator, he picked her up and carried her wordlessly through their massive foyer, beneath the crystals of the shadowy chandelier above. His black eyes never left hers as he carried her up the curved, sweeping staircase. His gaze reached into her heart, taking brutal possession of her soul.
“Och, you’re home early!” Downstairs, Mrs. McAuliffe came out into the foyer, her voice cheerful. “The baby’s sleeping and happy and—oh.”
As if from a distance, Callie heard the woman’s shocked intake of breath, saw her turn and flee back down the shadowy hall toward her own rooms on the first floor. But for once in her life, Callie wasn’t embarrassed. She couldn’t care. All that mattered was this.
Without a word, Eduardo carried her up the last stairs and down the hall to the master bedroom. He set her down on her feet beside the king-size bed. She glanced down at the mattress, remembering how she’d slept alone for all the nights of their marriage. But she would not be alone tonight.
Her husband caressed her hair, tucking tendrils behind her ear. She shivered as his rough fingertips brushed her sensitive earlobe, and his hand slowly moved down her cheek to her throat, beneath the expensive diamond-and-emerald necklace to the sensitive corner between her neck and shoulder. His body towered over hers as he pulled his oversize tuxedo jacket off her shoulders, dropping it to the floor.
Walking around her slowly, he stroked the bare skin of her shoulders. Fire raced up and down her body as he finally faced her, cupping her face. He lowered his mouth to hers.
His lips were soft and warm, rough and hard all at once, searing through her body like lava, melting her core from within. Her full breasts ached, crushed against his muscled chest. He reached around her, and she heard, and felt, the pull of the zipper. Suddenly the weight of the silver strapless gown fell to the hardwood floor.
Stepping back, Eduardo looked at her in the moonlight. “You’re beautiful,” he said hoarsely. “I’ve waited for you so long. Too long …”
Yanking off his black tie, he tossed it to the floor. But as he started to unbutton his tuxedo shirt, his hands seemed clumsy. She looked at his fingers and realized they were shaking, just as hers were. With a low curse, he finally just ripped off his shirt, popping the buttons with brute force and kicking the expensive garment away. She nearly gasped at the beauty of his incredible upper body in the moonlight. The muscles of his chest were hard and defined, from his broad shoulders to his nipples and the dark arrow of hair that traveled down his flat, hard belly.
Wearing only trousers, he came closer, running his fingers along the curve from her waist to her hip. His gaze devoured her in the plunging strapless bra and matching panties. Beneath his gaze, she should have been acutely aware of her body’s every flaw, and yet she saw the hunger in his eyes and she’d never felt more womanly or desirable.
A low growl escaped Eduardo’s lips. Grabbing her hips with both his hands, he pulled her to the bed. Sitting down on the edge, he lifted her into his lap, so she straddled him.
Wrapping his hands in her hair, he pulled her head down and kissed her fiercely. She kissed him back with equal force, gasping at the sensation when her naked belly brushed against his bare chest. He cupped her breasts over her silky strapless bra. Her nipples tightened to agonizing points, her breasts heavy and tight. Reaching around her with one hand, he unhooked her bra. His first sight of her full breasts, swollen to twice their normal size from nursing, made him gasp. He slowly reached to cup her bare skin. His large, rough hands caressed her naked breasts and Callie’s body went tight, as a hot current of electricity traveled from her nipples to her toes, sending spirals of hot, aching need to her deepest core.
“So beautiful,” he breathed again. The bed was covered in a pool of silvery light, leaving the two of them in their own magic world as he pushed her back against the pillows.
Never taking his gaze from hers, he stood beside the wall of windows overlooking the entire Upper West Side, and removed first his trousers, giving her a glance of his powerful legs and trunklike thighs, then his silk boxers.
Callie’s heart lifted to her throat as her husband stood before her, utterly naked and unashamed.
The moonlight frosted his naked chest, giving him an otherworldly appearance, like a powerful warlord from the mists of legend, a fierce barbarian king. He looked dark, handsome and powerful, illuminated by a gleam of silver. He looked like a dark knight from a fantasy. He moved toward her, and her whole body—down to her soul—trembled from within. And in the magical silvery light, his erection jutted from his body, proud and hard and every bit as huge as she’d remembered.
A spasm of fear went through her. After childbirth, what if it hurt to have him inside her? What if he was rough? What if he even tried to be gentle but was still
just so big that he split her apart?
Eduardo moved over her on the bed. She sucked in her breath as he stroked her cheek, slowly kissing down her neck. She tilted back her head as she felt his lips caress her skin, gasping as she felt his hands’ featherlike touch, cupping her breasts. Lowering his head, he kissed one breast, then the other, and slowly stroked down her body, down her collarbone, down the soft curve of her belly. Tension coiled low and deep inside her, and hardly knowing what she was saying, she breathed, “Yes …”
“You’re mine, Callie. Only mine.” He put his hand on her cheek, his eyes dark. “Tell me …”
“I’m yours,” she whispered, her voice choking on a sob. Of course she was his. She’d been his from the moment he’d first taken her hand, when he was the CEO of a global multibillion-dollar company and she was just his secretary.
Lowering his mouth to hers, he kissed her, long and deep. His tongue teased hers, lightly at first, then plunging deeper into her mouth as their tongues intertwined, slick and hot and wet. She felt his hand stroke her, moving softly down her belly. His fingers moved along her hip, over the top edge of her panties, and she shivered, aching for him. His hand moved so slowly, so lightly. He stroked down the side of her hip, over her thigh, between her legs. As he continued kissing her, she felt his hand move with agonizing slowness up the inside of her thigh, and held her breath …
But he moved his hand away, cupping her breast. She exhaled, pulling him closer, wanting to feel his weight on her. But he wouldn’t be distracted. His hand moved back to her inner thigh, traveling upward frustratingly slowly as she held her breath. Finally he stroked over her panties. He teased her. She gasped as he gently cupped the mound between her thighs.
Kneeling between her legs on the king-size bed, he pulled her silk panties down, down, down. She felt the soft fabric slide like a whisper down her skin. Suddenly naked beneath him, she felt him climb naked on top of her, lowering his head to kiss her. His tongue moved between her lips, his mouth stretched her wide. And she felt him hard and thick at the entrance to the hot center that ached between her thighs. Every inch of their bodies, her soft curves and his hard, muscled form, seemed fused together with need, sweat and fire. Only one part of them had yet to be joined. One part on fire with need. She felt him, huge and hard, nudging against her wet, hot core.
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