He must have understood because he moved then, sliding between her thighs where his fingers still played their magic, keeping up that sensual rhythm until the very moment when he joined them in a single mind-blowing thrust.
Annie arched like a bow, arms flying out and upwards in total abandonment. He arched too, like a giant wolf about to howl its mournful song, his long back, his dark head in a taut arch of pleasure, and for a space out of time neither were of this earth, neither aware of the other as sensation washed their brains of all else.
Then she felt the tug of her own muscles, felt them draw him in deeper, felt him grow and throb and fill her; then desperate fingers were reaching for him even as he came down towards her.
* * *
Afterwards she lay wrapped tightly in his arms, his body curled round her as though she were in need of protection and he was determined to give it. They didn’t speak, hadn’t found the words to cover what had just taken place. All Annie knew was that in the moment when he’d entered her César had become her; she’d felt that right down to the very roots of her being. Whether he’d experienced the same thing she didn’t know, but by the way he’d held her and kept on holding her, even long after he had fallen into a deep sleep, she had to believe that he had.
He woke her once more before morning, bringing her swimming up from sleep to the pleasure of his suckling lazily on one of her breasts. His caresses were already wreaking their magic on her body, filling her with a sweet, moist heat that made her stretch sensuously then sink on a shivery sigh into the rapture he was creating.
It was slow and it was relaxed and it was sleepy, and it seemed to draw a much deeper response from both of them which left them clinging to each other in a lead-weighted aftermath filled with nothing but a silent awe.
* * *
The next morning she awoke to find him still sleeping beside her, the sheet pushed down low over his thighs. He was lying on his side and facing her, an arm thrown heavily across her waist, his hair flowing over one satiny bronze shoulder, lying almost lovingly in that warm, moist hollow that formed the muscular ridge of his neck.
He looked different in sleep—more relaxed, more attractive while those sharp green eyes were hidden from view. His mouth still had that fatally sensual shape to it, but then, she acknowledged, it always did—whether he was tense or angry or just behaving normally. It was his mouth that had first ignited her senses and it had been wreaking its devastation ever since.
Feeling the stirring of excitement take root inside her at this near voyeuristic pleasure she was taking in just looking at him, she blushed and looked away.
Moving carefully so that she would not waken him, she slid out from beneath his arm and moved stealthily up and off the bed. Her body was stiff and aching, and she smiled wryly to herself as she made her way to the bathroom. They said sex was the best exercise for toning the body. She believed it. She felt as though she’d spent last night tied to a toning bed, except—a shiver of something incredibly sexy quivered through her—no toning bed left your senses feeling like this!
The shower was warm and refreshing, and she stood beneath it with her head tilted back, eyes closed while the water gushed over breasts still full and aching. Her nipples were tight and sharply sensitive, and seemed to have forgotten how to retract. She released a soft sigh as the water began to soothe them, though the ache between her thighs remained a dull, pulsing throb.
Was it always like this after a long night of loving? she wondered. This acute awareness of her own femininity? And was this strange yet pleasant feeling that she had been totally invaded all part of the allure that kept the desire to experience it again and again so strong?
‘Good morning. You started without me, I see.’
The sound of that deep, pleasant voice accompanied a pair of long-fingered hands sliding around her wet ribcage.
She let out a startled gasp, her eyes flicking open as a warm mouth bent to nuzzle that susceptible point between her shoulder and throat. Her hands snapped up to cover his where they rested just beneath the heavy swell of her breasts. And she couldn’t control the expressive way that her shoulder lifted, her throat arching to the erotic suck of his mouth.
‘Mmm,’ he murmured, drawing her backward against his warm body. ‘You taste of clean water and that delicious flavour called Annie. I am addicted,’ he confessed. ‘I shall now require the taste of her several times a day.’
She quivered at his provocatively teasing banter, but had no equally provocative answer ready to offer him. This kind of situation was so new to her that she was quite frankly at a loss as to what to do or say.
Then his hands shifted upwards, and she arched convulsively on a sharp, indrawn rasp of air. ‘Don’t touch!’ she gasped.
He went still for a moment, then turned her to face him, water gushing over her shoulders to splash onto the whorls of dark hair on his chest as he searched her anxious eyes, then her blushing cheeks, then finally the way her bent arms braced against his chest in an effort to keep his body away from her wet, silky breasts. ‘Ah,’ he said, then surprised her with the smuggest, most sensually triumphant grin that she had ever seen.
‘It isn’t funny!’ she flashed out indignantly. ‘They hurt!’
‘Poor Annie,’ he murmured in sympathy, but his grin widened, the man in him annoyingly proud that his loving could have such a lingering effect.
Then he swooped, taking one engorged nipple into his mouth and sucking so ruthlessly that she cried out, then gasped, then quivered as pain became a piercing pleasure.
If she’d worried about how she was going to face him this morning then that worry became swallowed up by what happened next.
It was as erotic as it was unconventional to her untutored soul. What with the warm water gushing, ignored, over both of them and his hands sliding down her supple spine to gather her against the rhythmic probing thrust of his hips, he ignited her desire for him so quickly that the night before might not have taken place.
His mouth lifted to capture her own, and, hungry, searching, they strained against each other while his loose hair received the full flood of warm water, plastering the satin pelt to both their faces, water running in rivulets down their noses and circling their joined mouths.
He broke the contact to drag in a harsh breath, his big chest lifting and falling in a tortured rasp. Then he was taking hold of her arms and urging them around his neck before he clasped her just below her buttocks, forcing her legs apart and around his tight waist as he lifted her up against him. His smooth, slick entry literally took her breath away.
Then the shower snapped off, and this latest variation on the act of love was achieved in a cubicle engulfed in warm, sensual steam…
* * *
For days they carried on like that—long, lazy, sensual days when they seemed to become so absorbed in each other that they could put the rest of the world right away.
The ate together, they slept together, they played in the sea or simply lazed beneath the shade of one of the big flame-trees together, supposedly content to read a novel each, but really it was usually just another way of enjoying the sexual tension always, always present between them. Her fingers trailed delicately over the fine, crisp hairs on his arm as she read; his hands lightly caressed her sun-kissed thigh as he did the same.
And, of course, they made love all the time—any time. His appetite seemed utterly insatiable, and hers rose greedily to meet his with little encouragement.
But that didn’t mean she didn’t have moments when she allowed her thoughts to drift towards the blunt reality of why they were here at all. But if she so much as mentioned home or work or, more importantly, the obligation they both had to Todd and Cliché, he would simply shut her up in the most effective way he could find.
Sex. But she did allow herself to wonder, during those few brief moments before he made her lose touch with the sensible part of her mind, if these were deliberate manoeuvres applied to stall her for some deep, dark reas
on of his own.
The trouble was that she wanted to be manoeuvred. She wanted to think of nothing else but this and him and—God—make believe it all really meant something.
Why? she asked herself frowningly one morning when she sat modestly covered by her bathrobe in front of her mirror, rubbing at her damp hair with a towel.
And she was almost bowled over by the power of the answer which suddenly erupted inside her. Her hand went still, she looked up and focused on the new, helplessly vulnerable expression now colouring her blue eyes.
No. She shook her head, glanced away, refused to accept it. She could not be falling in love with him as well!
As well as what? she asked herself tautly.
As well as being so sexually obsessed by him that she could barely look at him without wanting him badly!
‘Damn,’ she muttered shakily, glad that he was still in the bathroom and therefore not there to witness this revealing bit of self-analysis taking place.
Love. She tried tasting the word carefully.
Had she become one of those poor, wretched creatures—a woman in love?
God. Yes, she admitted, and covered those knowing eyes with a decidedly shaky hand.
She was in love with him. Of course she was in love with him, or why else had she let herself become such a slave to all of this?
And it isn’t even real! She pulled her head away from her hand to take that blunt realisation full in the face. This—all of this had begun as one huge set-up!
A week ago he was committed to hurting you, Annie! she told herself. And, despite what happened in between, a few days ago he was still using blackmail to force you to bend to his will!
And what about Todd? Did he still intend using his power as Adamas to make Todd bend to his will?
She knew by experience that he could be downright ruthless with that power. Susie meant a lot to him—he had said as much during their fight down on the beach the other day.
But—now? After all of—this? Was he still intent on forcing a split between herself and Todd simply for his cousin’s sake?
César used that moment to walk into the room, arrogant in his nakedness. Annie—in breathless silence, via the mirror—watched him saunter towards her, bend to brace himself with his hands against the dressing table, either side of her body, smile a heart-achingly tender smile into her wary eyes then lower his head to taste her throat, his damp hair swinging in a slick, heavy pelt to one side.
Could this man who could smile at her like that still want to put his cousin’s feelings before her own?
‘César…’ she murmured hesitantly, her blue eyes anxious as they watched him nuzzle her throat.
‘Hmm?’ She quivered as the soft sound vibrated across her skin. He felt the response and did it again. Only the ‘hmm’ this time was an expression of pleasure.
Annie closed her eyes and tried very hard to concentrate—not on him but on the question she wanted to ask.
‘Todd,’ she said. ‘What are you going to do about Todd and the Cliché launch?’
He went still for a moment, his mouth warm where it rested against her softly throbbing pulse. Then, ‘This is no longer your problem,’ he dismissed, returning his attention to her throat.
‘But of course it’s my problem!’ she insisted, trying to arch away from his seeking lips. ‘I’m worried about the Cliché launch!’
‘Worry about me instead,’ he said huskily, and sucked the small fleshy lobe of her ear into his mouth.
She quivered, lips parting on a soft gasp of stinging pleasure. ‘Stop it!’ she said, determinedly pulling away. ‘We need to talk.’
There was another moment’s silence when she thought he was going to ignore her—once again. His head remained bent, his hands braced either side of her. Then he straightened, and his eyes when they connected with hers via the mirror were suddenly inscrutable.
‘So, talk,’ he conceded coolly.
Her heart gave a small flutter—cowardice, she recognised, wanting to drop the whole subject before she spoiled what they had going here. But…
‘What are you going to do about me?’ she said. ‘And Todd and his magazine launch?’
‘You forgot to add Susie into that equation,’ he inserted, turning away.
‘Susie?’ Twisting around on the stool, she stared up at him. ‘But I don’t understand.’ She frowned. ‘Everything’s changed now! Surely you aren’t still intending to—?’
‘And what has changed exactly?’ he drawled as he moved with a lithe, arrogant grace back across the bedroom.
Her heart took up a slow, heavy pumping as she watched him go, the rear view almost as excruciatingly desirable as the front view. The man had muscles where muscles ought not to be!
‘Y-you know I’m no threat to Susie’s personal relationship with Todd,’ she reminded him huskily, having to struggle to subdue the feelings that were threatening to divert her from the subject in hand. ‘But our business relationship is different! I won that contract fair and square, César. And neither you nor Susie can have any justification in wanting to take it away from me now!’
‘You still want to keep it?’ Reaching around the open bathroom door, he hooked a clean towel from the rail inside while holding her gaze with a cool, questioning look.
She frowned. ‘Of course I want to keep it.’
‘Why?’
‘Why should I not want to?’ she countered.
‘Maybe because I am asking you not to,’ he suggested quietly, wrapping the towel around his lean hips.
Annie came stiffly to her feet, not sure whether the sudden movement was brought on by the discomfiting subject matter of this conversation or because of the blatant sensuality with which this man did everything—even held this damned conversation!
‘And why should you want to do that?’ she demanded.
‘Because this particular contract is just one job among many jobs to you,’ he replied, with a dismissive shrug of one taut, bronzed shoulder. ‘But to Susie it would be the making of her career. Oh,’ he continued when Annie opened her mouth to speak, ‘I know she’s good. But she’s not in your league, Angelica. You can survive without the big boost the Cliché launch will give your career, whereas Susie’s career will probably never really recover from losing that contract to you in the first place.’
Her eyes widened at this cool business assessment he made of both herself and Susie. ‘So you want me to give it all up for Susie’s sake?’ she choked in blank disbelief.
‘Would that be such a very big hardship to you?’
Was that a question or a not very subtle statement of command? she wondered. Then sat down again slowly—very slowly because it suddenly occurred to her that it didn’t matter whether it was a question or not. The very fact that he was making the sounds at all was enough to make her legs tremble so badly that she had a fear that they would collapse if she did not keep them under strict control.
Betrayed, she realised painfully. She was feeling betrayed on every level. Betrayed by the subterfuge he had used to get her here to this island in the first place. Betrayed by his later remorse and apparent desire to put things right once he’d realised his mistake, and betrayed by the depth of intimacy he had used to bring her oh, so cunningly to this moment of truth.
And all of it—all of it done in Susie Frazer’s name. Blow his own sister! Blow Luis Alvarez! This—everything that had taken place over the last week—had simply been manoeuvre and counter-manoeuvre on his part, with this one goal in mind!
To make Annie Lacey malleable enough to do anything for him that he asked of her.
What a bloody fool she had been. Now she felt sick.
‘What are you thinking?’ His voice seemed to reach her from down a long, dark tunnel.
‘I’m thinking you’re a bastard,’ she whispered thickly.
Silence.
Her eyelashes flickered, then lifted to allow her eyes to focus on him. He was standing there across the room like some—some noble
Apache chief! she likened wretchedly. Wearing that skimpy white towel like a loin-cloth that left too much naked, bronzed muscle on show! His hair was hanging sleek and straight to the proud set of his shoulders while those crazy green eyes of his looked down that long, arrogant nose at her as if he couldn’t believe that this woman could dare to insult him like that!
Then he sighed and moved in a grim gesture of impatience. ‘Dammit, but you are my wife now, Angelica!’ he exclaimed, with what she saw as an appalling confirmation of his arrogance. ‘You do not need to do that kind of work any more! Whereas Susie—’
‘Wife?’ From somewhere—she didn’t know where—anger took over from nausea and shot her furiously back to her feet. ‘And when exactly did I become your wife, César?’ she demanded with a withering scorn. ‘From the moment you realised that your and Susie’s plans were no longer justified, so you had to find another way to keep me here incarcerated on this island?’
‘Don’t be stupid!’ he snapped, beginning to stride towards her. ‘I told you I had no intention of harming you! Why can’t you show me a little trust?’
Trust. There was that rotten word again.
‘What is there to trust?’ she demanded bitterly. ‘Your word—when you’ve done nothing but break it since I met you?’
‘Just because I asked for a little common charity does not mean I am about to break my word to you!’ he rasped as he reached her.
‘No? Well, my answer is a clear-cut, unequivocal no. I won’t hand over the Cliché job to Susie.’ Her blue eyes lifted to challenge him with a look of fierce contempt. ‘So where do we go form here? César—hmm?’ she taunted dangerously. ‘Where…?’
CHAPTER TEN
TO HELL, apparently. They went to hell, Annie decided later as she lay in the middle of the rumpled bed that César had just stalked angrily away from—after taking her to hell by the most exciting route he could find.
And now she lay devastated, maybe suffering from shock—she wasn’t sure. All she did know was that that one small question had exploded into a blistering row and from the blistering row had come the blistering sex.
The Morning After Page 14