A Spanish Awakening
Page 10
She stopped kissing him long enough to moan, ‘God, you taste so good.’
Emilio’s eyes darkened dramatically. ‘Madre de Dios!’
‘Is something wrong?’ she asked anxiously. He looked like someone in pain.
‘Wrong?’ he echoed. He looked at her, his brilliant eyes fierce but tender, the muscles in his brown throat visibly working as he swallowed, struggling to control the primal hunger pounding through his body. ‘No, things are very right. You wish to taste me, you shall,’ he told her thickly. ‘But not until I have sampled every inch of your delicious body.’
The throaty promise planted a mental image in Megan’s head that made her skin prickle.
His long-legged stride brought them to the bed in seconds. Megan’s eyes were closed and her arms still fastened around his neck as he lowered her onto the bed.
As she sank into the mattress Megan opened her eyes.
Emilio curved over her, motionless; his breath came harder as he looked down at her. ‘You’re beautiful,’ Emilio slurred, his voice thick with desire. ‘I’ve never in my life needed anything as much as I need you.’
The husky confession sent a thrill through Megan’s tense, aching body. She waited, her heart beating frantically in anticipation as she stared into his glowing midnight-dark eyes.
She wanted his touch, she ached for his kisses, she wanted him with a fierce urgency that scared her. For a second she wanted to retreat from it, push him away, but she made herself accept it, embrace it.
In that moment her last doubts vanished in a blaze of certainty.
This was what she wanted. The rightness of it made no sense, but that didn’t matter. Unable to communicate the ache of inarticulate yearning that brought the threat of tears to her eyes, Megan raised her arms, stretching her finger towards him in a silent plea.
The gesture cut through Emilio’s last shred of control. A growl locked in his throat, his face set in a strained mask of primal need. He caught her hands, raised them to his lips and pressed his lips to each palm in turn before he sat down on the edge of the bed.
Retaining her hands in his, he placed them against his chest.
Megan could feel the heat of his body through his shirt. With a soft cry she pulled herself into a sitting position and began to fumble with the buttons on his shirt with frenzied urgency. Her hands were shaking so much that the simple task was beyond her.
‘Let me.’
A hand in the middle of her chest sent Megan back against the pillows.
Megan watched through half-closed eyes, her throat dry and aching as he slipped the buttons of his shirt, his actions tantalisingly slow.
The fabric parted to reveal his taut muscled torso, his broad, well-developed chest and flat, muscle-ridged belly. His skin gleamed like beaten copper.
Megan gasped. ‘Oh, God!’ and ran her tongue across the surface of her dry lips.
There was predatory confidence in his smile as he fought his way out of his shirt and flung it across the room.
Megan couldn’t take her eyes off him. His skin glowed and he didn’t carry an ounce of surplus flesh on his sleek, muscular body.
He almost casually pinioned her hands either side of her head before settling his long, lean length down beside her. There was nothing casual about the searing heat of his stare as ran his tongue up the exposed curve of her neck.
‘You taste good.’
He lowered his head towards her, but at the last second stopped just short of her mouth and looked deep into her eyes, part of him wanting to prolong the moment he had waited for.
‘Please kiss me, Emilio.’
The husky plea snapped the last thread of his shredded control. A deep groan emerged from his lips as he sealed his mouth to hers, pressing her limp body deep into the mattress with the force of his kiss.
Megan gave a soft moan of yearning as her lips parted under the hungry, demanding pressure. The sound was lost in his mouth as his tongue stabbed deep, the erotic incursions drawing a series of mewling sounds of pleasure from her throat.
‘This is crazy.’
He trailed a series of moist, open-mouthed kisses down her throat. ‘You want me and I want you. Is that crazy? ‘
‘Yes, it is, but I think I like crazy.’
He levered himself up a little to allow himself easier access to the buttons on her blouse. He started at the bottom and worked his way upwards, holding her eyes, watching her gasp as each one gave way.
Megan squeezed her eyes closed and held her breath as he peeled the fabric aside. At the sound of his rasping intake of breath, her eyes shot open.
He was staring transfixed at her body; desire burned in his eyes like twin flames. ‘Por Dios, but you are lovely,’ he breathed, his expression almost reverent as his glance licked down her pale body.
She glowed. Her skin was as pale as alabaster, not cold, but warm. Megan was warm. Emilio wanted to bury himself in her warmth, feel it close tight around him.
Megan shivered, the earthy appreciation in his deep voice sending an erotic thrill through her body. She shivered again and bit her lip, oblivious to the pain as he traced a line with his finger down the middle of her stomach before laying his big hand across the curve of her stomach.
Then, holding her eyes, he unclipped the front catch on her bra.
His eyes left her then, and she heard the breath leave his lungs in a long, sibilant hiss. His eyes glittered with passion as he curved his shaking hand around one soft, pink-tipped mound, drawing an earthy moan from her throat as he rubbed his thumb across the engorged peak before taking it into his mouth. All the time his fingers were stroking her delicate skin with erotic skill that made her burn up inside with the nameless need that gripped her.
She writhed in a sweet torment, her response to his skilful caresses uncoordinated, the words that slipped from her lips unintelligible in the hot haze of passion.
One hand stayed curved possessively around her breast as he lifted his head and looked deep into her passionglazed tawny eyes before he bent his head, his tongue dipping inside the parted pink sweetness between her lips, drawing a series of weak cries of pleasure from Megan.
He slid a hand around her back, drawing her up off the bed while he freed the blouse and bra from her shaking body. One arm wrapped around her narrow ribcage, the other pressed behind her head, he lay down, drawing her down beside him.
The first skin-to-skin contact was shocking, then, after the shock faded, addictive. Megan’s mind emptied, she stopped thinking, acting on the dormant instincts that surfaced as she pressed her breasts against the hard barrier of his hair-roughened chest.
Emilio continued to kiss her, one deep drowning kiss blending into the next.
When he eventually drew back the naked desire shining in his dark eyes sent a fresh pulse of desire slamming through her body.
‘Hold that thought,’ he said thickly as he rolled on his back. Megan’s instinctive protest stilled as she watched him unfasten his belt, lifting his narrow hips off the bed to slide them down his thighs, then kick them away.
His boxers received the same treatment.
Megan felt the hot colour score her cheeks; he was aroused and he was magnificent! Heat pulsed, spreading from her core through her body, and the dragging, heavy sensation low in her pelvis became a physical pain. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
Emilio saw her staring and didn’t seem to mind. In fact on physical evidence her unconcealed awe appeared to arouse him further—something she would have imagined was impossible!
He swung his legs around the side of the bed, his movements as graceful and sinuous as a big cat, each action emphasising the controlled strength and power of his body. She wondered at his complete lack of self-consciousness, her covetous gaze following his progress around to her side of the bed.
By the time he stood over her she was so aroused by the erotic image he presented that breathing was a struggle. Each laboured inhalation she drew made her full breasts quiver.
She closed her eyes as he slid her skirt down her thighs, then closed them tighter still as he removed her tiny briefs.
‘Look at me, Megan.’
Megan prised her heavy lids open and gazed up at him, mute with helpless longing.
Raw need burning in his eyes, Emilio took her fingers and curled them around his erection. ‘This is how much I want you,’ he slurred.
It was, Megan thought, quite a lot!
She stroked him, her fingers tightened around his throbbing length. Emilio closed his eyes and groaned before gritting his teeth and removing her clever fingers forcibly before he ran his own fingers along the silky curve of her inner thigh, smiling with primitive satisfaction to hear her gasp, then moan as he parted her legs, opening her to him.
He kneeled over her. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, ravishing. The need inside him was pounding in his head, wiping every thought but the need to possess her from his mind.
His entire being was focused on one thing—making her his, binding her to him.
As he kneeled between her legs he was unable to resist the lure of her quivering swollen lips. He kissed her lips hard, then the curve of her belly, before his smoky dark eyes meshed with her slumberous golden gaze.
He reached between her legs, her body arched in response to the intimate touch, the slick heat he discovered there, the knowledge that she was ready for him, and then finally her husky plea of, ‘Please, Emilio,’ broke his control.
His face contorted in a fierce mask of driving need, he settled between her legs, his body curved over her.
Megan felt the push against her silken barrier and tensed at the exact moment he slid into her. The cry of shock and pain was wrenched from her throat.
Above her he froze. He had felt the resistance at the last moment and understood what it meant, but it had been too late to pull back.
‘Relax,’ he soothed, kissing her neck.
‘I’m … You’re …’ A long sigh left her throat as her tense muscle unclenched and began to expand to accommodate him. The sensation was incredible and as he began to move very slowly the fibres inside her responded to the friction, sending hot fingers of sensation rippling through her entire body.
‘Oh, yes!’ she sighed, grabbing his shoulder for support as she relaxed into the rhythm as he sank deeper into her.
Sweat slicked Emilio’s body as he fought with every fibre of his being to control his thrusts, though in that final moment when he felt the deep contractions of her climax build he let go and slammed into her, feeling his explosive release and a moment later the guilt.
CHAPTER TWELVE
FINALLY Emilio rolled off her. Megan missed the weight of him pressing her into the mattress. Without the heat of his body the air-conditioned air felt cool on her hot, sweat-slick skin.
Megan, her breathing still all over the place, turned her head on the pillow. Emilio lay beside her on his back, one arm curved above his head. His eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply; his chest rose and fell in sync with each shallow breath. Megan rested her cheek in the crook of her arm, her expression rapt as she followed the play of muscles sliding below the golden glistening surface.
Everything about him fascinated her.
She reached out a hand to touch his skin and drew back. So far he hadn’t said a word. Was that normal? Should she be bothered by his silence?
How crazy was this? Minutes earlier they had been intimate in a way that should have shocked her but hadn’t; now she was scared of touching him in case it was the wrong thing.
Megan chewed her lower lip fretfully as the doubts crowded in. Had he fallen asleep?
Perhaps he would expect to find her dressed or even gone when he woke up? The instincts that had kicked in earlier had definitely switched off.
It was ironic—when she might have expected to feel some uncertainty there had been none, except for that brief moment when she was sure that they were simply not compatible in a purely dimensional sense—she had been very pleased to be proved wrong.
Beautifully wrong!
She might no longer be a virtuous virgin, but she still had no clue how a person was meant to behave post-lovemaking.
She glanced around the unfamiliar bedroom with the vast bed and modern art on the walls almost guiltily, as though she were a voyeur intruding on a scene in someone else’s life.
But this wasn’t happening to someone else, it was happening to her. Had happened.
No wonder it seemed surreal. I spent the morning in bed with Emilio Rios—now how weird did that sound? Actually, not so weird at all. A person, it seemed, could adapt awfully quickly to some things.
But she couldn’t allow herself to lose sight of the fact that for Emilio this was just sex. While in one sense his pragmatic approach to his physical needs and appetites shocked Megan, in another way she did kind of admire his painful honesty.
It would never be possible for her to match his honesty, she thought, refusing to acknowledge the lonely ache in her heart—time enough for that later. To him she was a one-night or any rate one-morning stand, so wanting more was a stupid waste of time.
She had always wanted more from him. God, it really did stink when your first crush turned out to be your last!
She had always been his for the taking; he just hadn’t felt the urge to reach before today. Megan blinked away the hot tears burning behind her eyes and gave a fierce frown as she told herself that for once in her life she would not think about tomorrow.
Her eyes made a covetous sweep of his body. A natural athlete’s body, long and lean, it was a sculpted, breathing miracle of taut muscles, hard bone and glistening, satiny bronzed skin. A tiny sigh of appreciation left her lips; he really was beautiful!
And he had done beautiful things to her.
And tomorrow he would be doing them to someone else.
The pucker between her arched brows smoothed out as she firmly pushed away the thought. She swallowed, refusing to acknowledge the ache in her throat—why spoil a perfect moment?
She rolled onto her side, watching the rise and fall of his chest as Emilio sucked air deep into his lungs through flared nostrils. There was not the slightest suggestion of softness in any part of his lean, hard body. She exhaled a shaky sigh and thought, This is perfect.
He was perfect.
As she watched him, need unfurled from the tight knot of nameless emotions locked in her chest. She had imagined she was in love with him, but the man she had fallen for had never really existed. She had been infatuated with a fantasy.
She had seen the real Emilio Rios the night he had ripped her character to shreds, not a kind man, but dangerous and capable, as she knew to her cost, of being cruel.
She tried to work out the attraction. She knew it wasn’t just his amazing face or athlete’s body. Emilio projected a raw power, an intensity that drew her like a moth to a flame.
Scratch the surface of polished sophistication he was famed for and there was something primitive, a danger that should logically have made her run. Instead Megan found his earthy magnetism impossible to resist.
Throat thick with emotion that shone in her amber eyes, she responded to the compelling need to touch him. She reached out, tangling her fingers in the light fuzz of hair on his chest before trailing her fingers slowly in the direction of his flat, muscle-ridged belly. She had never imagined feeling this greedy fascination with a man’s body, but she was utterly enthralled by everything, from the texture of his skin to the faint quiver of muscles just under the satiny surface she stroked.
The dark fan of his ebony lashes lifted slowly from the sharp angle of his cheekbones.
Megan held her breath.
Emilio turned his head.
Their eyes connected, liquid brown on topaz.
> She could not read the expression in his dark eyes but she could feel the waves of strong emotion rolling off him, not something she had anticipated.
Neither had she anticipated the wave of paralysing shyness, not after the intimacies they had just shared and the total lack of inhibition she had displayed. She lay there aware of every imperfection, feeling horribly exposed and vulnerable, wishing with every ounce of her being that she could recapture the liberating pleasure in her own body she had experienced while they had been making love.
Emilio’s stare had not wavered from her face. The intensity of his unblinking regard was starting to be unsettling, but suddenly overwhelmingly conscious of her nakedness Megan reached down for a sheet to cover herself.
The next seconds were a blur. One moment she was clumsily attempting to grab the sheet, the next her hands were pinioned above her head.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I should get dressed.’ It was pretty hard to hit a casual note, but Megan thought she did quite well given the circumstances. ‘I’m sure you have things to do, a busy schedule, and I should touch base with D—’
‘You should stop babbling.’
‘I’m not babbling,’ she protested.
His broad shoulders lifted fractionally. ‘All right, talking nonsense.’ His dark eyes dropped from her face, sliding slowly down her body.
The insolent, sexually overt scrutiny made her stomach muscles twist in excitement.
‘I do have things to do.’ His eyes glittered as he bared his white teeth in a fierce smile. ‘All of them include you, and clothes are not involved. Your body pleases me. I find it utterly and totally exquisite. You will not hide it from me. You should be proud of it and enjoy it as much as I intend to.’
The explosive quality in his fierce stare made her shiver, then cry out when without warning he pressed his face against her breasts, the stubble on his chin abrading the smooth, sensitive skin, but not in a bad way.
He thinks I’m beautiful.
Her breath came in a series of shallow gasps as, eyes half closed, she watched through heavy eyelids his dark head against her body, her back arching as his tongue began to whip slowly across the peaks of her breasts, still painfully sensitised from their recent lovemaking.