‘I’ll have a very small Licor 43, please,’ Luz heard herself say against her better judgement. She had drunk more than she usually did and knew another glass would only reduce her already dulled inhibitions but she felt reckless tonight. It had been such a perfect day all round and she did not want it to end. Secretly, she was waiting, no, hoping that he would take her in his arms; his feigned aloofness – she was well aware that he was holding back – was killing her. Andrés was trying to prove that he was quite capable of letting her leave tonight without laying a finger on her.
He poured a shot of Licor 43 for her, two fingers of Cognac for himself and lit a cigarette. Then he stood at the entrance to the gazebo, sipping his drink quietly, his profile to her, looking up at the sky. He was still in his skimpy swimming briefs but the soft red sweater covered his hips. Not for the first time her eyes took in his broad shoulders and the strong muscles of his thighs; it took some effort to keep up a bit of meaningless conversation.
‘How nice to have your own beach.’
‘Yes, it is … nice.’ He looked back at her, his eyes glowing with amusement.
‘You must enjoy the privacy.’
‘Yes, particularly tonight.’ Seeing his mouth curve up, she sipped her drink again.
‘The meal was perfect and I must make a note of Eduardo’s china.’
But the light cross talk seemed foolish. The air around them quivered with the wild emotion that was taking possession of them and clamoured for some outward expression.
‘Come here,’ he whispered suddenly, looking up at the night sky again. ‘It’s a first moon.’ The faint possessive note in his voice and the way her mind and body reacted to it brought Luz a new awareness of her vulnerability. Now was the time to leave if ever she wanted to save herself from this man. For the first time in her life, she regretted her limited experience of men. She said nothing and remained seated. He turned to rest his eyes on her candlelit face. Fascinated by the burning look in his dark, dark irises, which galvanized to the surface an answering emotion within her, Luz waited breathlessly. His stare was full of so many emotions she could not read. After what seemed an eternity, he held out his hand to her. The devouring flames of his gaze engulfed her and once again she was lost.
She went to him, heart pounding tumultuously. Tomorrow she might regret what was about to happen, but tonight she did not want to think about the future: she would live for the moment and embrace wholeheartedly the night’s promise. She turned her face up to him and they gazed at each other.
‘Look up at the new moon, make a wish and it will come true within a year,’ he told her, his eyes never leaving hers. She glanced upwards and stared wistfully at the silver crescent. Would the Queen of the Night really grant her heart’s desire?
Andrés put his arm around her, drawing her close against the length of his body. ‘I can’t resist any more, it’s too much to ask of a man.’ His voice was hoarse and suddenly edged with a raw emotion that made Luz quiver.
Their mouths were inches apart and she knew that she should pull away but she could not. Suddenly she she was unable to remember why she had been keeping Andrés at arm’s length.
‘Tell me you don’t want me to touch you,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘Tell me you don’t want me to taste you all over, that you don’t want me to pleasure you.’ His breath against her ear was warm, his voice as dark as the desires he aroused, his hands febrile as he stroked her back, sending tingling shocks up and down her spine. Luz did not need more to feel the ache of her need surge up with unbearable urgency. She leaned into him with a little moan, her eyes closed.
Scooping her up, he carried her to the sofa. He helped her pull off the sweater and very slowly peeled away the top and the bottom of her bikini, the last hindrance to what he had been waiting for: she was finally there, lying naked. For a long moment Andrés looked down at her, his eyes burning. They rested lovingly on her face and moved down to her throat, where a telltale vein throbbed steadfastly, then slowly to the taut pink nipples of her firm round breasts and fleetingly over her tight flat stomach, to finally come to rest on the small dark triangle between her thighs.
‘Dios mio, you are beautiful, Luz. Your body would drive a saint to drink,’ he murmured. The throbbing of his most intimate part bore blatant witness to his own fiery need.
Her eyes grew wider, their sapphire colour almost black with longing as she devoured his statuesque tanned and muscled body. She held her arms out to him, her irises dilated, flesh quivering.
He moved slowly and rested his lithe strong frame on his side next to her, propping himself up on his elbow, looking down at her. Uncontrolled tremors shook her as his warmth came into contact with her skin. Wet heat throbbed between her legs and her eyelids fluttered down. He had barely started and she was ready for him.
‘Tell me it’s me that you want,’ he said, his mouth near her ear again.
‘Andrés …?’ she breathed, her body moving restlessly, craving him to touch her.
‘Tell me you want me, Luz,’ he rasped deeply.
What was he saying? Could he not see how much she wanted him? There was an expression in his eyes of uncaged desire, of hunger, and a need borne of something else altogether. And then she realized that he wanted her to admit her desire for him, to say it out loud.
‘Yes, Andrés, Yes, I want you. Please … take me now.’
She was so close to the edge he would not need to touch her to bring her to climax. His look, his words alone, had the power do so.
Despite the hunger burning inside her, Luz’s heart filled with gratitude, banishing the last fragments of her reservation. ‘I’m not a virgin,’ she murmured. ‘You wouldn’t be compromising me.’
She was mesmerized by him and as his head came down, his mouth finally claimed hers in a profound, caressing kiss. Then lifting it once again, he looked deep into her eyes. ‘Virgin or not, querida,’ he muttered in a soft voice, ‘you are pure and innocent, una paloma blanca … and I love you.’
Her gaze flew to his, her heart fit to burst. ‘But you don’t understand, you don’t know. I …’ she continued, deciding to be truthful. She did not want to deceive him, even if it meant … she ached for him so much, she could not bear to think of the consequences of her confession.
He silenced her with his hot demanding kiss. ‘Shush, querida,’ he murmured feverishly. ‘Let me please you and love you the way I want to. No woman has ever inflamed my senses so much, I’m obsessed by you. I live and breathe only you.’ He began dropping butterfly kisses down her cheek to her neck.
‘Just give yourself up to me and I’ll take you to stratospheres you have never dreamed of,’ he whispered against her burning skin. ‘Let me kiss you, stroke you, taste you. Let me satisfy your body and your soul with sweetness beyond your imagination.’
She was breathing faster, his words threatening to push her over the edge; she could feel the waves coming, trembling at the edge of the cliff. Helplessly she closed her eyes and surrendered to him.
‘You are made to be desired and loved. Look into my eyes and relax; don’t touch me, just enjoy what I’m going to do to you,’ he ordered huskily. ‘If you want me to stop, if I’m not pleasing you, just say the word and I will.’
She heard the emotion in his voice and saw it in the glowing fires of his irises as his large hand began its sensual journey over her skin. It moved over her breasts, his touch light, just brushing at first, then as they firmed, his expert fingers drew a circle around the little pink peaks, toying with them briefly until they lifted proudly, eager to be stroked; then his palm moved downwards, lingering on the warm flesh of her bare stomach.
She gasped and stiffened, her eyes glazing over as he found the silky dark triangle of her Mount of Venus. She felt him stop and trembled violently with the urgency of her need, her thighs parting imperceptibly in anticipation. His eyes were still watching her as he slid his fingers down, gently stroking. She licked her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. He found he
r other lips with his expert fingers and fondled the silky warm damp folds of her femininity. She ached for him to touch the little swollen bud buried deep in the secret part of her, but he left it behind. As she cried out his name, desperately trying to guide him where she wanted him most, he stilled his hand, tormenting her with agonizing pleasure.
Now he claimed her mouth, plundering it as he sought her tongue with his, then probing deeper and deeper, kindling her flame into a roaring fire. His kisses remained hot as his lips found her breasts and devoured them with his mouth. This time there was no holding back as he nipped, licked and suckled the firm mounds that had surged at his touch and their tight, quivering pink peaks. She was desperately aroused and her sinuous body moved gracefully as she moaned her pleasure. As he grew harder, his deep breath was audible as he slowed himself down, obviously fearing to lose control. His head dipped further. The curve of his lips lingered on her navel; he knew just how much pressure to use as he stroked and licked in slow, sensuous moves, causing every nerve in her body to vibrate, passion grasping her in its relentless fold.
He turned his attention to the secret part of her waiting for him, moist, swollen and throbbing with desire. She cried out when he gently peeled away the silky-smooth petals protecting her mystery. He took the fevered rosy bud in his mouth, sucking, teasing with the tip of his tongue, stroking slowly at first, then faster and faster, harder and harder, stimulated by her cries of encouragement. She never wanted this delicious torment to end. Each moan, each cry she let out seemed to illicit a growl of pleasure from him as she opened up and yielded still further under his touch. She knew she was intensifying his need and felt the almost primitive erotic fire burning them both. Her blood was thundering now; every limb, every nerve, every inch of flesh of her taut body crying out for release. Whimpering, pleading, she was almost sobbing her need for him to fill the void inside her.
His gaze never leaving her, he finally eased himself back up and claimed her open lips with all the tenderness of his love. Lifting her slightly, he cupped the cheeks of her bottom to draw her closer. Instinctively she parted her thighs to receive him. He eased himself into her using his fingers first to make sure he did not hurt her. Holding her hips, he began thrusting into her soft, silken moisture, firmly and deeply, as her muscles tightened avidly around him, gripping and caressing him.
Now they were moving rhythmically together, luxuriating in each other’s pleasure. Tongues of fire lashed at them. The swirling kaleidoscope of sensations that rushed through them was more than they could bear. Her nails dug into his shoulder as she moaned his name again and again, telling him how she loved him and how he was pleasing her. Her frenzy was driving him deeper into ecstasy, his hunger for her naked and unconcealed, blazing like a roaring fire.
Their passion had escalated to a raging ache that was begging to be released. As he gradually gave up control, his kisses became wilder, his embrace ever tighter, melding their bodies into one. He thrust deeper and deeper into the moist core of her, gradually increasing the tempo. Breast to chest, thigh to thigh, they were rocking to each other’s hungry cries, savouring every shade, every tone of pleasure, until this crescendo broke into an almighty storm of lightning, the sensual waves engulfing them both and exploding in final release, dragging them, united, deep into the ocean of ecstatic bliss.
Their climax was long and powerful. When they finally surfaced into this world, they smiled against each other’s lips, hearts still beating frantically in unison. As he lay on top of her, Andrés smoothed Luz’s hair back and kissed her forehead. He grinned.
‘Dime querida,’ he whispered tenderly, his eyes intent on hers, ‘do you still think I’m a womanizer?’
She gave a happy little chuckle. ‘No, usted es el hombre que amo, you are the man I love.’
He stared at her, his eyes clouding with intensity before his lips brushed the tip of her nose and he rolled off her. Spent and satiated, they drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms.
CHAPTER 11
Luz returned to L’Estrella before dawn. It was one thing to get back in the small hours and quite another to stay out all night. After tucking into the scented juicy flesh of a large white peach and making herself a cup of thick hot chocolate, she showered and was still floating on cloud nine when she went to bed.
Lying awake, she marvelled at the way her feelings for Andrés had made a complete U-turn in the past two days. She knew she had fallen in love with him yet how could she transfer her passion so easily from one man to another? She had never been promiscuous. How could this be happening? Tonight it was Andrés, not Leandro who had captivated her body so entirely and made her emotions soar to new heights. Her newfound recklessness would surely end in tears. A warning voice whispered inside her head: had she not learnt her lesson with the gypsy?
Still, there was no escaping the force that pulled her and Andrés together like magnets, compelling, powerful and irrepressible. Leaving aside his evident skills in lovemaking, in the past two days they had spent together he had given her a glimpse of the man behind the arrogant mask: the overwhelming male self-confidence she had so despised when they first met had fallen away to reveal thoughtful complexity, his haughty impudence replaced by irresistible mischievousness. Time had evaporated while they were together.
Yet Luz had a nagging feeling that he was holding back something and that made her uncomfortable. At times he was moody and secretive and, in those moments, those silences, she felt completely isolated from him. She could not follow the strange currents of his mind that took him away into his own world, of which she was not part. It unsettled her that he never allowed her to probe further than a certain point in his life. Even when she was able to push a little further in the hope of catching him off-guard, she always came up with a blank.
From time to time she had noticed a harrowed look in his eyes, which pulled at her heartstrings. Was it sadness or fear? Doubtless he had lied about Eduardo’s paintings of La Pouliche – but why? She had the heady sense that she had stumbled on to something vital and was determined to find out more about those paintings and their mysterious model.
Eventually, she drifted off into a dreamless sleep and was awakened a few hours later by the chorus of birdsong. The sunbeams entering her room summoned her to enjoy the freshness of the hour.
It was a fine and glowing day. She went on to the flower-filled veranda outside her bedroom, where she sat in her rocking chair, looking out to sea. The light was white far into the distance, where Puerto de Santa María still lay sleeping in the morning haze, abutting on the exquisite emerald of the ocean. She listened to the buzzing of cicadas in the branches of nearby trees, the chirruping crickets and the soft murmur of the sea in the distance. It filled her with a sort of intoxication, which made her feel drowsy again. The garden at this hour was streaked with broad lakes of shade; the colours were beautiful. Nature was moist with dew, glittering with a strange luminosity. Apart from the humming stir of insects it was a benign and tranquil sort of morning, though the telltale haze announced a hot day. She could hear the clicking of a watermill in the distance. Butterflies hovered around her, busy sipping honey from the flowers; lizards crawled over the ballustrade or lay very still on the walls, basking in the sun.
She watched a hawk swoop not so far away into the bay, which lay blue and silky under the burnished sky. And there, out of sight, somewhere behind the cliffs on her right, slept the lonely little beach that had witnessed her night of love. Strange how it had also been on a beach that she had given herself to Leandro. But she didn’t want to think about Leandro now; it made her feel uncomfortable. It was almost as though the twins were competing with each other and she found the ambiguity of her situation unnerving. Of course she had no proof they were twins – the idea was so far-fetched, even absurd. Most probably they were unaware of each other’s existence. One certainty remained in her mind, though: no man had awakened her senses in the way they had and she was sure she would never again encounte
r such compatibility with anyone.
The discovery of this sensuous, rather wanton facet to her personality frightened her; she deeply resented being so uninhibited. She still blushed at the thought of how she had revelled in Andrés’ intimate caresses and how quickly she had surrendered to him, unable to control herself. Years of self-discipline simply disintegrated into thin air. Like a flower to which he had shown the sun, she had bloomed but it somewhat went against the grain: the English part of her shrank from that sort of exhibitionism, finding it distasteful.
Thinking of Andrés flooded her body with a languid longing. She would be meeting him later on, down at the beach. They were going snorkelling.
‘I will take you places you’ve never dreamed of,’ he had told her with a wicked twinkle in his eyes and that suggestive intonation in his voice she was beginning to recognize. Only too aware of his skills of initiation, she tried to suppress the rush of euphoria that invaded her as graphic images of the ‘places’ to which he was proposing to introduce her clamoured in her mind. She was looking forward to a long, leisurely day of exploring.
And so she showered quickly, dressed in a pair of figure-hugging shorts and went down to the kitchen. She was relieved it was market day; she wouldn’t have to bump into Carmela and be confronted with her endless questions. After ransacking the housekeeper’s larder to pack up a picnic, she set off.
The haze was dispersing; the sun was up and hot. The ocean, intense blue skies, the clean-swept Atlantic light and salty air, the rambling beach and Andrés were all waiting for her. She noticed him as soon as she had traipsed over one of the high dunes: a somewhat lonely figure silhouetted against the vast immensity. He had brought his boat ashore and was sitting on the side of it, arms folded against his muscled bronze chest, watching her approach. As Luz moved towards him, he never took his eyes off her and she, in turn, was transfixed at the sight of him, bare-footed in his sailing shorts, his naked torso like that of some god in mortal form. An unbearable yearning for him coursed through her. So this is what real desire felt like. She hailed him and he waved back.
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