Cesar’s fingers tightened briefly about hers before releasing them as the waiter arrived with their coffees.
He sat back, lids lowered, as he continued to watch Grace’s enjoyment of their surroundings as she slowly sipped her coffee. She was, he had discovered these past few days, a woman who was as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside. A woman who cared for her family, without regard for herself. Who empathised with others, also without regard for herself. As she had empathised with both his parents and himself at the devastating toll taken on them all over their loss of Gabriela.
Cesar had thought long and hard the previous night about Grace’s comments after Raphael had left him. Admittedly she had been angry when she made them, but that did not make them any less the truth.
Most especially her accusation that Cesar had shut himself away in an ivory tower, totally removed from people and the world about him. It was one way of coping with the pain, of course. But, as Grace had also pointed out so succinctly, it was an ivory tower that effectively kept other people out, rather than just protecting Cesar and his family.
People like the young couple at the next table, who had eyes only for each other. Like the three old men sitting on a bench a short distance away, as they enjoyed discussing and settling the problems of the world, in the way that only the older generation could. Or the mother walking by with her two young children, all of them happily eating ice cream and talking excitedly. Or the gaggle of teenage boys, rolling past on battered skateboards.
All of them as vulnerable, in their own way, as Cesar and his family had been twenty-one years ago. But all continuing to live their lives, enjoying those lives, rather than shutting themselves away for fear of what might or might not happen to them now, or some time in the distant future. Because they all knew something Cesar had forgotten, something that Grace had now helped him to realize: that life couldn’t be lived that way, that it wasn’t living at all to be shut away in an ivory tower, no matter how comfortable it might be.
It was time for Cesar to leave his ivory tower, to shake off the restrictions he had placed about his life. And what better place to do that than the vibrant and beautiful city of Buenos Aires!
With the equally beautiful and vibrant Grace Blake.
CHAPTER NINE
‘YOU CAN’T BE serious...?’ Grace protested incredulously as Cesar took hold of her hand and pulled her forwards with the obvious intention of accepting the invitation for members of the watching crowd to now participate and join the couples of street performers in dancing the tango.
They had left the brightly painted area where they had lingered over drinking their coffee some time ago, and walked the short distance to the Plaza Dorrego and the market. Grace had thoroughly enjoyed herself as they strolled amongst the market stalls looking at antiques and other memorabilia, most of it totally impractical for taking back home as a present for Beth. She had finally settled on a soft brown leather jacket the same colour as Beth’s eyes, and which would look lovely against her sister’s blonde hair, more than happy to allow Cesar to handle the haggling over the price, something the market vendors seemed to expect and appreciate if the smiles on their faces were any indication.
Lunch had been a delicious salad eaten at one of the tables outside a busy restaurant in the cobbled square, after which they had wandered over to watch the professional street performers, three couples, all dancing the tango brilliantly, and accompanied by several equally accomplished musicians.
That Cesar was now considering—insisting—that the two of them participate was totally unbelievable.
‘You said that you danced the tango,’ he reminded her as he pulled her into the roped off area with several other couples who had also decided to accept the invitation.
‘I believe what I actually said was that I danced it badly, and that Beth is much better at it than I am.’ Grace looked about them uncomfortably as the watching crowd began to clap in expectation.
‘Beth is not here,’ Cesar drawled as he slipped off his leather jacket, revealing the muscled width of his shoulders in the black tee shirt as he reached out pointedly for her jacket and bags.
‘And even if she were I doubt you would persuade her into a public display, either!’ Grace looked up at him pleadingly.
‘Time to smell the roses, Grace,’ Cesar drawled, dark eyes challenging.
Her mouth firmed as he returned yesterday’s comment at her. ‘I’m really not that good.’
He gave a grin. ‘But I am.’
Grace’s eyes widened. ‘You’re very confident.’
He raised dark brows. ‘Perhaps you would like to put that confidence to the test?’
‘As it happens—yes!’ She straightened to give him her two bags, before slipping her own jacket from her shoulders and handing that to him too.
Cesar moved to place them on the ground beside the musicians before rejoining Grace on the makeshift dance floor. ‘Care to assume the position?’
‘Ooh, you really are full of it today, aren’t you?’ She gave a reproving shake of her head as she moved into his arms.
‘You have no idea.’ Once again he threw one of her own comments back at her. ‘Just keep looking into my eyes and follow my lead,’ he instructed huskily, holding her flush against his upper torso with just one arm about her back, his other arm behind his back, as the musicians began to play.
If someone had told Grace just a few days ago, when she had first met the arrogantly remote Cesar Navarro, what was going to happen next, then she wouldn’t have believed them.
It was impossible to do anything but follow as Cesar effortlessly guided her through a series of complicated steps, gracefully, and in perfect time to the music. And as he did so he continued to hold Grace so tightly her breasts were pressed against his muscled chest, their gazes locked, Grace finding it impossible to look away from captivating deep brown eyes. Deep brown eyes that flashed with the fire and passion of the dance.
It was at once the most thrilling and arousing experience of Grace’s life!
So much so that by the end of the dance she was moving just as effortlessly as Cesar, moving her feet in perfect synchronisation with his, and she was laughing up into his face only inches from her own, her hand placed dramatically against his cheek, when he bent her back over his arm as the music came to an end.
Which was when she heard the sound of thunderous applause and she turned her head sideways to find that everyone else had stopped dancing some time ago, even the professional street performers, so that they might stand back and watch her and Cesar dance.
Cesar seemed totally unaffected by all the attention as he continued to hold her draped over his arm. ‘Well?’ he asked softly, not even appearing to be breathing hard from their exertions.
‘You win,’ Grace breathed, her face flushed—and not just from the attention they were now receiving. ‘You really do know how to dance the tango!’
The tango was, and always had been, one of the most sensuous dances to perform—which was probably why Grace had never got the hang of it before today; she had always been given a spotty-faced teenager as her partner during dance classes—and Cesar, as he had claimed, was very good at it. So much so that dancing with him had become a highly erotic experience; their movements had been graceful and yet highly sensual, to a degree that Grace’s pulse was now pounding and her breasts were aroused, the nipples hard and swollen against Cesar’s chest.
‘Time to take a bow and make our escape, do you think?’ Cesar murmured softly.
‘Yes, please,’ Grace answered huskily.
He straightened before twirling her to his side with a flourish as they both took a much-deserved bow, laughingly refusing the professional dancers’ invitation—the three beautiful women especially pouting their disappointment as they looked at Cesar admiringly!—for them to dance again, the two of them finally able to make their escape a few minutes later.
‘The apartment and siesta? Or do you wish to see some more
of Buenos Aires first?’ Cesar prompted softly as he helped Grace back into her jacket, his hands lingering on her shoulders once he had performed the deed.
‘The apartment, if that’s okay with you?’ she answered huskily, very aware of his close proximity, all of her senses seeming sharper, heightened, after the exhilaration of the dance.
‘And siesta?’
Grace glanced back over her shoulder at Cesar, the sensual languor in the darkness of his eyes unmistakeable. ‘And siesta,’ she echoed.
It seemed the most natural thing in the world for the two of them to walk along hand in hand as they strolled back to the apartment, Grace totally aware of Cesar as he moved along beside her with that animal grace that was such a natural part of him, a finger linked through the loop in the jacket slung over his shoulder, and revealing that muscled torso in the black fitted tee shirt and the jeans low down on the leanness of his hips.
Nor did Grace miss the covetous glances given his way by every woman they passed, young and old, accompanied or alone, as they obviously appreciated all that masculine beauty.
Also appreciated all that masculine beauty, Grace acknowledged ruefully—because she was so aware of Cesar now, so attuned to his easy sensuality of movement, that she could barely breathe, her breasts still highly sensitive inside the lace cups of her bra, the snug fit of her jeans heightening the arousal between her thighs.
Cesar seemed totally unaffected by the covetous glances being sent his way as he turned to smile at Grace often, a slow and sensuous smile that set her pulse racing in anticipation of the promised ‘siesta’.
* * *
‘Thank you so much for taking me out today and showing me your beautiful city,’ Grace said as the two of them travelled up to the apartment in the lift together.
He looked at her beneath hooded lids, easily noting the flush to her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes, her lips full and pouting and slightly parted. Kissably so. ‘The day does not have to end just yet, Grace,’ he murmured softly.
She caught her breath sharply. ‘I’m really not sure this is a good idea...’
Cesar turned so that his body was flush against hers, his hands resting on the mirrored wall either side of her head, the darkness of his gaze easily holding hers captive. ‘Did you enjoy dancing with me today, Grace?’ he prompted huskily.
She breathed shallowly. ‘It was...wonderful.’
He nodded, ignoring the fact that the lift had now come to a halt and the doors opened. ‘As I enjoyed dancing with you. But we both know it was more than that.’
Yes, it had been more than that. Dancing an erotically charged dance like the tango, with a man like Cesar, was almost akin to making love to music!
Grace moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, her eyes widening as she saw Cesar’s gaze following that sensuous movement. ‘It could be a mistake on our part to take this any further—’ She broke off as Cesar chuckled ruefully. ‘What’s so funny?’ she demanded.
Cesar gave a shake of his head. ‘Have you not heard it said that dancing is merely a prelude to a deeper intimacy?’
Her cheeks blazed with colour. ‘I have, yes.’
His lids lowered. ‘Then you cannot help but be aware of how much I desired you earlier, and how much I wish to make love to you now.’
‘I— No,’ she confirmed huskily.
‘Or that you also wish for that deeper intimacy between us?’
Her throat moved as she swallowed. ‘How can I deny it, when you must also know—be able to feel, how aroused I am?’
Yes, Cesar could feel Grace’s arousal: the firm swell of her breasts tipped by engorged nipples, the heat of her thighs pressed against the long length of his own arousal. ‘Just as you can feel my desire for you?’
‘Yes.’ Those two wings of colour deepened in her cheeks.
‘Put your arms about my waist, Grace,’ he encouraged gruffly.
Grace was trembling so badly—from Cesar’s close proximity and the unmistakeable sexual tension sparking between them—that it was all she could do to lift her arms, that trembling increasing as she felt the warmth of Cesar’s body through his tee shirt, his muscles flexing as she placed her hands against his back.
‘What are you—?’ she broke off her squeaked protest as Cesar’s hands beneath her bottom lifted her up and into him, her legs moving instinctively about his waist as she now clung to the muscled broadness of his shoulders.
‘Cesar?’ She looked up at him as he stepped out of the lift with her still in his arms.
The darkness of his gaze almost seemed to sear her it was so hot. ‘Your bedroom or mine?’
Grace’s heart gave a leap in her chest. ‘I—’
‘Your bedroom or mine?’ Cesar repeated tautly, a nerve pulsing in his clenched jaw.
She looked at him wordlessly for several seconds, those flames leaping even higher in the dark depths of his eyes. ‘Yours,’ she finally breathed softly; she hadn’t seen Cesar’s bedroom as yet, and a part of her was still able to rationalise—barely!—that it might be easier for her if she wanted to leave Cesar’s bedroom later than to persuade him into leaving her own bedroom.
‘Good choice.’ He gave a tense smile, his expression just as intense as he strode down the hallway still carrying Grace in his arms.
Grace rested her head against his shoulder, relieved not to meet anyone on that walk down the hallway, not Maria, not Raphael, or any of his men, and she laughed breathlessly as Cesar kicked his bedroom door closed behind them before slowly lowering her onto her feet. Grace dropped her bags on the carpeted floor, her arms going up over Cesar’s shoulders as he pressed her back against the door before lowering his head to claim her lips with his own.
Already aroused, by the dance earlier, strolling back to the apartment holding Cesar’s hand, their time in the lift together, and being carried in Cesar’s arms, the desire that had simmered beneath the surface until now exploded into a wild and heated burst of passion.
The two of them kissed hungrily, deeply, long and heated kisses, as their hands roamed in restless caresses, Grace’s up and down the length of Cesar’s spine, one of his hands moving to cup beneath the weight of her aroused and swollen breast as he plucked the hard peak of her nipple, their ragged breathing and throaty groans the only sounds in the silence of the bedroom.
Cesar’s other hand became entangled in the long length of her hair as his lips moved from hers down the length of her arched throat, the hand that had cupped her breast now slowly unfastening the buttons at the front of her blouse, and he pushed the material down her arms before unclipping her bra and disposing of that, too.
‘You are so beautiful here, Grace.’ His lips moved down to the slope of her bared breasts. ‘So very, very beautiful!’ He captured one roused and turgid nipple into the moist heat of his mouth even as his hand cupped beneath her other breast to pluck the roused berry in the same rhythm as he suckled its twin deeply, hungrily.
Grace moved restlessly against him, her hands becoming entangled in the dark thickness of his hair as pleasure throbbed hotly, moistly, between her heated thighs. She wrapped one of her legs about his thighs as she rubbed that throbbing ache against and along the length of his shaft, needing, hungering for the release building higher and higher inside her.
She gasped out loud as Cesar cupped between her thighs, the soft pad of his thumb instinctively finding the throbbing nubbin and caressing, pressing, to the same rhythm as he suckled her nipple harder and deeper into the heat of his mouth, tongue lathing, teeth gently nipping at that sensitised berry before he bit down harder still, Cesar’s arm moving about her in support as Grace’s knees gave way as the pleasure of her release washed over and through her, consuming her.
Cesar continued to hold her, caress her, his tongue lathing, teeth gently biting, prolonging Grace’s pleasure until she collapsed against his chest from the intensity of a release that left her weak and gasping.
‘I want you. Now!’ he rasped urgently as he swun
g Grace up into his arms and carried her across the room, laying her down on the bed before joining her on top of the deep green bedspread.
‘Could I—? May I touch you first?’
‘If you wish.’
‘I do,’ Grace murmured, uncaring of the nakedness of her breasts as she moved up to gently push Cesar back against the pillows. He looked so unlike himself, dark hair messily tousled from her caressing fingers, eyes burning with a dark intensity, a flush to his high cheekbones, lips parted as he breathed raggedly.
That raggedness increased as Grace slowly pushed his tee shirt up over the defined flatness of his abdomen and muscled chest, her gaze holding his as she lowered her head to taste that bronzed flesh with her lips and tongue.
Grace hummed low in her throat as his fingers became entangled in the long length of her hair, holding her to him as she tasted and licked that hot male flesh, lips lingering against one of the dark brown nubbins nestled amongst the darkness of his chest hair. She heard Cesar’s gasp, his back arching as her tongue flicked across his sensitised flesh before she suckled him in the same way he had suckled her just minutes ago.
‘Lower, Grace!’
‘Lower?’ she voiced uncertainly.
‘If you please,’ he encouraged gruffly.
Grace moved to kneel between his legs to kiss her way down his abdomen, following the dark V of hair to the waistband of his jeans, looking up at him uncertainly before flicking open the four buttons and tugging the heavy material down to his thighs, black boxers now the only covering to the long length of his arousal.
‘Those, too, Grace!’ he encouraged throatily.
She swallowed before peeling the boxers down to his thighs, too, her eyes widening as she released him fully to her hungry gaze. Cesar was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Nine inches of long, thick arousal that surged hotly against her hand as Grace reached out to touch him tentatively.
‘Hold me, Grace,’ he urged hotly.
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