‘Gracias, Elise.’ There was a bitterness apparent that tore her apart.
There was no doubt he desired her, but desire alone had little to do with need, love. ‘After the accident,’ she began shakily, ‘you were always there, the image of a devoted husband.’ Her eyes searched his, seeing the darkness apparent, the faint tenseness as he waited for her to continue. ‘When my memory returned, I felt betrayed. I had trusted you,’ she cried in an anguished whisper.
He was quiet for a long time. ‘There was no reason for you to distrust me.’
‘You perceived it as a game,’ Elise went on with incredible sadness. ‘With me as the pawn.’
‘From the beginning,’ he corrected quietly, ‘you were the prize.’
‘Prey,’ she countered. ‘Ruthlessly hunted, and relentlessly lured into a trap.’
His gaze was unwavering, intense, and impossible to read.
‘You acted a part,’ she accused, and saw his eyes darken.
‘Never,’ he assured her after a long silence, and her features paled.
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘No? You perceived our lovemaking as a calculated coupling without any depth of emotional involvement?’
It had never been that, not even in the beginning. ‘Love isn’t a prerequisite for satisfactory sex.’ She felt as if she were breaking up inside, her body slowly shattering with each successive word he uttered.
He was silent for what seemed an age, and his voice when he spoke sounded like silk being sliced by the finest tempered steel. ‘You can describe what we share as merely clinical satisfaction?’
She looked at him carefully, seeing the strength apparent, the hint of passion in the depths of those dark eyes. ‘No,’ she owned at last.
His thumb trailed to her cheekbone, explored the faint hollow beneath, then slid to rest at the corner of her mouth. ‘Por Dios,’ he declared huskily. ‘An admission.’
Time stood still, and she was willing to swear that her heart stopped beating for several seconds before kicking in at a quickened pace as the pad of his thumb slid halfway along her lower lip to rest there momentarily before gently compressing its fullness.
‘And this,’ he drawled with emphasis, as his hand shaped one sensitised breast, deliberately tracing a provocative pattern back and forth across its aching peak, ‘is your body’s reaction to the caress of any man?’
Dear God, no. You, she vowed silently. Only you.
His eyes were dark, almost black, gleaming like polished onyx as he reached into her mind and so easily read what was there.
‘Impossible, of course, for you to comprehend you are the love of my life?’
The silence was so total that she forgot to breathe, then her chest lurched as she drew in the first of several deep ragged gasps of air.
‘They’re only words, Alejandro,’ she managed shakily, wanting desperately to believe them.
‘They are all I have left.’ His eyes were dark, unguarded, and filled with a depth of passion that made her senses reel.
‘Your amnesia provided me with a heaven-sent opportunity to begin afresh. Without the barrier of your animosity, it became possible for you to believe you were the very much loved wife of a man who clearly adored you.’ He paused, and his touch was so gentle that it made her want to cry. ‘I prayed your memory loss would last long enough for those weeks we had together to make a difference.’
‘The baby——’
His finger pressed closed her lips, and his eyes were incredibly dark. ‘Make no mistake, querida. The child you carry is a wonderful bonus. But it is you I care for. You.’
She shivered at the soft invasive pull on her emotions as his fingers slid to her nape and angled her head towards his.
‘Please—don’t,’ she whispered in anguish.
His head lowered to hers, and his breath was warm against her lips. ‘Why not, querida?’
Her stomach lurched, then curled into a painful knot as his mouth brushed hers. She couldn’t have moved, even if her limbs had been willing. ‘Because I can’t think when you do that.’
She sensed rather than glimpsed his smile. ‘Is it so important that you think?’
The tip of his tongue touched the corner of her mouth, savoured the indentation, then lightly traced the full curve to the centre. Liquid fire coursed through her veins, igniting each separate nerve-end until her body seemed one vibrant entity.
‘If I don’t,’ she managed in strangled tones, ‘you’ll simply sweep me into oblivion.’
She sensed his smile, and heard the faint husky growl emerge from his throat. ‘Would that be so bad?’
His mouth was creating the sweetest magic with her own, a slow, tantalising prelude to what must surely follow, and her body began to heat, every nerve-end flaring into vibrant life as her soul reached out to his.
‘Alejandro…’ His name escaped her lips in a shaken gasp as he drew her close in against the swollen evidence of his desire.
It was almost as if he needed to absorb her—flesh, bones, the very essence that made her unique—and she could feel herself slowly melting, slipping inevitably down into a glorious pool of swirling warmth where there was only an acute perception of the senses, the sweet promise of two souls perfectly in accord merging and becoming one.
With a sense of desperation she dragged her mouth away from his, aware in a moment of complete lucidity that it was because he allowed it.
Her lips felt soft and swollen, tender, and they trembled slightly beneath the moistness of her tongue as she unconsciously ran its tip along the lower edge.
His eyes flared, watching the movement with mesmerised fascination.
Almost as if he could not restrain himself, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against her temple, then pressed each eyelid closed before trailing down to the edge of her lips. His touch was as light as a butterfly’s wing, caressing, loving, and she wanted to cry out against his flagrant seduction.
‘I expressed my adoration with the touch of my hands, my mouth…my body,’ Alejandro declared. He lapsed into Spanish, then repeated the words softly in a language she understood. Erotic, explicit, undeniably earthy. Yet heartfelt and without any pretence.
Soft colour flooded her cheeks, and her lips trembled as a low husky chuckle emerged from his throat.
‘Have I shocked you?’ he mocked gently.
A wicked smile curved her generous mouth. ‘Did you intend to?’ she queried, offering deliberate temptation as she lifted her arms and linked them carefully at his nape, only to gasp as his mouth closed over hers with deep, drugging possession.
He gave no quarter, and she expected none as she met and matched his ardour, exulting in the feel and taste of him, the heavy thudding beat of his heart as it pounded against her own in unison, the sheer sensation of knowing he was hers. It was a heady power, one she knew she would never choose to abuse.
Minutes later she cried out as his mouth left hers to trail down her throat, and she arched her neck to allow him access to the sensitive hollows, gasping as he teasingly nipped delicate skin, then slid to begin an open-mouthed suckling at one silk-covered breast that caught her slender frame in a paroxysm of sensation.
‘You are wearing too many clothes, mi mujer,’ he chastised huskily minutes later as his fingers began to deal with the buttons on her blouse.
‘Hmm,’ she agreed with a delicious smile. ‘So are you.’ Her eyes danced with wicked amusement. ‘There’s a problem,’ she announced with seeming regret, and felt his fingers still as he looked at her in silent enquiry.
‘Ana is serving dinner at seven.’
His eyes darkened with ill-concealed humour. ‘Next,’ he murmured huskily, ‘you’ll tell me you’re hungry.’
She wrinkled her nose at him. ‘We could eat first, then retire early.’
‘Flattering, to be relegated second to food.’
‘I promise I’ll make it up to you,’ Elise declared, and he smiled, the creases deepening as they slashed each c
heek.
‘Interesting.’
‘It will be,’ she teased. ‘It’s the reason I need to keep up my strength.’
His fingers moved to refasten slowly the buttons on her blouse, then he kissed her with such incredible gentleness that it was all she could do not to wind her arms up around his neck and tell him to make love to her now.
‘Then let us go downstairs and sample what Ana has chosen to serve us.’
They ate a leisurely meal, deliberately pacing themselves, each increasingly aware of the moment they would rise from the table and go upstairs to their suite.
There was a sense of anticipation that became more acute with every passing minute, a sensual teasing as they indulged in a playful game.
More than once Alejandro paused in the process of eating to lift his glass and utter a salute in a drawled collection of Spanish words that required no interpreter to define them.
‘After your son is born, you’ll have to censor your words,’ she chided with an attempt at severity, and failed miserably beneath the liquid warmth of his gaze.
‘I have no intention of withholding from him how much I adore his beloved mamá.’
She had a mental image of a small dark-haired boy with mischievous dark eyes, running, laughing, infinitely loved by his parents. And later, God willing, there would be a little girl for him to protect and adore.
Elise speared the last segment of fruit from her plate and lifted it to her mouth, biting the firm flesh of deliciously fresh melon with a delicacy that brought a brilliant flaring to the eyes of the man seated opposite.
‘I suppose you are going to insist I take coffee?’
Her eyes openly teased his, sparkling with unguarded humour. ‘Caffeine,’ she explained knowledgeably, ‘is supposed to stimulate the brain.’
His dark gaze became languid, a displayed deception that didn’t fool her in the slightest as he queried in a silky drawl, ‘And it is my brain you particularly want to stimulate?’
She swallowed the last of the melon, then ran the edge of her tongue lightly over the curve of her lips. ‘I would be disappointed,’ she declared with slight emphasis, ‘if you proved less than…capable,’ she finished delicately.
His eyes became faintly hooded, and the edge of his mouth assumed an upward curve. ‘Witch,’ he responded with deliberate lightness as he sat back in his chair and savoured his wine.
Aware of his propensity to conduct a leisurely lovemaking, extending her pleasure to a point where she became wholly, solely his, before tipping them both over the edge into a state of passionate oblivion, she wondered at the wisdom of baiting him.
At that moment Ana entered the room and began clearing the table, her movements sure, deft, and unobtrusive.
‘That was a lovely meal,’ Elise complimented gently, and was rewarded with a pleased smile.
‘Gracias. Will you have coffee here, or in the lounge?’
Elise glanced towards Alejandro, who merely raised one eyebrow in silent mockery as he transferred the responsibility for a decision.
‘Would you mind bringing it out on to the terrace? It’s such a beautiful evening.’
‘My wife is a romantic,’ Alejandro drawled, sparing Elise a long, thoughtful glance that curled her toes.
‘The evening sunset,’ Ana agreed with a slight nod. ‘Such lovely colours.’
‘Indeed,’ he acknowledged, and his beautifully chiselled mouth widened slightly as he got to his feet and crossed round to assist Elise from her chair.
Seconds later, as they moved out on to the terrace, his arm curved lightly round her waist, its warm strength a tangible entity that crept through her skin and seemed to liquefy her bones.
The swimming-pool looked intensely blue in the soft fading light, its surface reflecting a mirrored sheen that was duplicated on the waters in the inner harbour.
Elise’s gaze wandered out towards the horizon where ocean met sky, breathing in deeply the clean sea-air as she savoured the slight breeze that teased her hair and faintly stirred the leaves on various trees.
Alejandro shifted slightly to stand behind her, his hands linking protectively over her thickening waist as he drew her back against him.
She felt his lips brush her hair, then slip down to settle in the hollow at the edge of her neck as he teased the delicate flesh. Soft tremors shook her slim frame, and she leaned into him, loving the hard muscularity of his solid frame as he enclosed her within the cage of his arms.
To rest against him like this was heaven, and she was aware of the promise of passion, the strength of his control as he simply held her, content to allow her to savour the magic of nature as the sun slowly disappeared beyond the horizon in a brilliant flaring of orange and gold tinged with purple, before the silvery sky slowly darkened to an inky velvet.
The chink of crockery in the background was an intrusive sound they both acknowledged, and together they turned and slowly wandered towards a wide, cushioned two-seater as Ana poured Alejandro’s coffee, then filled a glass with water from an iced pitcher for Elise.
‘Goodnight, señor, señora.’
Alejandro sent Ana a warm smile. ‘Gracias. Buenas noches.’
When the housekeeper had returned indoors he leaned forward and spooned sugar into the dark aromatic brew, stirred, then cradled the cup in his hands.
Elise was strangely pensive. They had cleared up so many misconceptions but
‘There is something on your mind?’
It was a light, teasing query, and, suddenly brave, she took courage in both hands. ‘Savannah.’
‘What is it you want to know?’
His voice was a wry drawl, and in the semidarkness it was difficult to gauge his mood. ‘You were her lover?’
‘Yes.’
It hurt more than she cared to admit, even now.
‘A long time ago,’ he qualified.
‘She implied——’
‘Innuendo coupled with distorted fact is a dangerous combination,’ Alejandro interposed drily.
She had to ask. ‘Did you love her?’
He didn’t hesitate. ‘No. Nor did she love me.’ His eyes pierced hers, dark and faintly brooding.
Elise stared out into the darkness, hardly aware of the tracery of dimmed lamps that sprang to life around the grounds, highlighting the gardens.
‘She still wants you,’ she opined slowly.
‘Savannah dislikes conceding defeat.’
She recalled the cruelly spoken words, spiteful in their intention, deliberately chosen to destroy by a woman who was unlikely to find personal happiness with any one man.
Elise rose slowly to her feet. ‘If you’ve finished your coffee, I’ll return the tray to the kitchen.’
‘I’ll take it.’ He moved with lithe ease, and once indoors he activated security before following her through to the rear of the house.
The kitchen gleamed from Ana’s meticulous care, and it only took a few minutes for Elise to load their cups into the dishwasher and rinse out the coffee-pot.
She was conscious of Alejandro’s studied gaze, and she tilted her chin to meet it, her eyes clear pools of liquid emerald ringed with gold.
There were words she wanted to say, achingly poignant and straight from the heart, yet they seemed locked in her throat. For a moment she hesitated, then she slowly extended her hand and caught hold of his, threading her fingers through his own. ‘I want to make love with you.’
His fingers tightened, then he raised her hand to his lips, and Elise saw the blaze of emotion evident in the darkness of his gaze. Deep, heartfelt, and electrifyingly primitive.
Then he curved an arm beneath her knees and lifted her high against his chest.
A slow, burning excitement unfurled deep within and radiated through her body until she felt achingly alive. ‘I can walk,’ she protested with a soft laugh.
His smile was a thing of beauty, warm and passionate, his eyes almost black. ‘Indulge me.’
Her lips were so close to his thr
oat that it was an irresistible temptation to rest them against the warm pulsing cord and savour the deep thudding beat. Gently she circled it with her tongue, then drew it carefully into her mouth.
‘Do you want to be ravished here?’ Alejandro threatened huskily as he gained the stairs.
Elise gave a soft exultant laugh and bestowed a rain of soft kisses along the edge of his jaw. ‘The bed might be more comfortable,’ she teased, loving his strength, the sheer force of his raw masculinity.
On reaching the main suite he let her slip gently to her feet and drew her close within the circle of his arms.
His mouth closed over hers with infinite gentleness, then hardened as she melted against him, taking possession of her mouth in a manner that left her in no doubt of his feelings.
At last he lifted his head, and she could only look at him in mesmerised wonder as his fingers worked the buttons on her blouse, then dealt with the clasp fastening the contoured strip of silk and lace supporting her breasts.
They felt heavy, each dusky peak swollen as it ached, hungering for his touch.
‘You’re beautiful.’ He traced the curve, shaping it with a reverence that brought the prick of tears, and she blinked rapidly to dispel the threatened spill.
Slowly she lifted a hand and trailed her fingers along the strong thrust of his jaw, tracing the firm chin, the faint indentation, then the chiselled shape of his mouth.
Nothing—no one—mattered. Not Savannah, nor any of the other women who had inevitably shared part of his life.
Who was it who had said you had to make each day count?
The quote and its source eluded her. The message, however, did not.
Her eyes searched his, seeing the watchful stillness in those dark eyes, the hint of pain. ‘I tried very hard not to love you,’ she declared in a voice that was unbearably husky. She swallowed the sudden lump that rose in her throat. ‘I don’t remember when it changed, only that it did,’ she continued, without any pretence at hiding her emotions. ‘Now I know I can’t live without you.’
Alejandro reached for her, his hands shaking slightly as they slid to frame her face. ‘I want to love you, be with you, for as long as it takes to reach forever. Dios mediante,’ he vowed huskily.
The Helen Bianchin Collection Page 14