Stand-In Bride's Seduction

by Yvonne Lindsay

  “Stay.”

  His voice was thick with desire, the single word more a command than a request. But now that the moment had paused, instinct no longer drove Rina forward. With the slow consistency of molasses, awareness flowed back into her mind. What the hell was she thinking? Here she’d been only just telling herself to back off, to find that elusive level of distance she needed to be able to carry this pretense off and now she was all but plastering herself to the man.

  She pulled away, placed her foot firmly back on the floor and unhooked her arms from around his neck.

  “I…I don’t think I should.”

  Rey’s hand lingered on her thigh, slid upward to cup her buttock and pull her against his hips. “Stay.”

  His tone this time was more beguiling, pitched deeper, his eyes now burning with the promise of finding a way that would ease the desperate ache that now threatened to consume her.

  “I can’t. I shouldn’t have reacted like that…led you on.”

  “You didn’t lead me on,” he said softly. “You reacted honestly, as did I.”

  If she’d reacted honestly, it was about the only thing she’d done with an element of truth in it since she’d started this whole thing, Rina thought desperately.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, don’t apologize. We are lucky enough to share a special spark of attraction between us. If we cannot be truthful about that, then what can we be truthful about?”

  Each word fell like a blow on her heart. If circumstances were different, she’d be free to explore that special spark he spoke of. Even as she thought it, a chilling wave of reality swamped her. If circumstances were different, it would be Sara here in his arms or, more realistically, in his bed.

  She curled her fingers over his and removed his hand from her body, every nerve screaming in protest even as she did so. Then, she carefully stepped away from his warmth and lifted her face to look him straight in the eyes.

  “Please, I’d like to go now. Thank you so much for tonight. For everything.”

  He gave her a small smile tinged with regret and turned away to grab his car keys from the bench top in the kitchen.

  “Not quite everything, hmm?”

  She smiled back, a reflexive action that completely lacked humor. “No, not quite everything, but that’s my fault, not yours.”

  “There is no fault, querida.”

  Silence stretched out between them as they left the apartment and traveled down in the lift to the basement car park. Once settled in his car, Rey grabbed her left hand, and held it against his thigh—just where she’d wanted to place her hand when they’d been driving together earlier. Instantly the warmth of his skin and the bunch of his muscles beneath the fine woven fabric of his trousers imprinted against her palm. It felt even better than she’d imagined.

  “No one said you could not touch me,” he said, his voice little more than a growl.

  Rina tried to pull her hand away. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  His fingers closed over hers, trapping her hand where he wanted it. “Humor me, please. I promise, I will not bite.”

  Rina nodded her assent and he lifted his hand from hers and slid the car smoothly into gear.

  His offices were on the opposite side of the city from his apartment building. By the time they pulled into the car park, Rina was fighting back yawn after yawn as the strain of keeping her emotions and desires under control took its toll.

  “Do you wish to come upstairs with me, or wait in the car while I get you a swipe card for entrance tomorrow?” Rey asked after unclipping his seat belt and turning off the car.

  “No, I’m okay, I’ll come with you. It’ll help me to know where to go in the morning.”

  They rode the lift to his floor and he unlocked the large wooden double doors. For the second time that night, Rina stared at the del Castillo crest and was reminded of the lie she had perpetuated. And to think she’d had the nerve to challenge him on it over dinner. Where was her normally logical head at?

  The answer was simple. Her every thought, her every decision, was clouded by the man standing next to her. Despite everything, all she wanted was to be with him and that fell in total opposition to the love and devotion she owed her twin. A sudden shaft of envy speared her heart. Coveting anything of Sara’s felt wrong—so very wrong. But in this she was struggling to keep her balance.

  It didn’t take long for Rey to find her a key card for the parking garage downstairs and to allocate her a parking space.

  “This card will also give you access to the floors of the building from the elevator,” Rey instructed.

  “Thank you,” Rina said, trying to ignore the tiny zap of electricity that shot through her as their fingers brushed briefly.

  “I’ll show you where we’ll be working. Come with me.”

  Rina followed him past the luxurious reception area and down a thickly carpeted hallway. On each side she could see into a variety of offices. Some individual, some clearly shared in a more open plan environment. Near the end, the hallway widened considerably into a second waiting area. A desk and computer guarded the entry into another office space and as Reynard pushed open the doors, Rina felt as though she was being drawn into the inner sanctum of some medieval master.

  Rey flicked a bank of switches on the wall and subtle lighting brought the room to life. As opposed to the modern and somewhat minimalistic furnishings he employed in his apartment, this was all old-world splendor. With her PR background, Rina could acknowledge the clever planning behind the decorating decision. The del Castillo brand resonated with wealth, power and history, all of which were reflected in the richly decorated space.

  Highly polished mahogany panels lined the walls and deep leather furniture sprawled over the hand-knotted Persian carpets that covered the floor. A large partner desk dominated one side of the office, with a computer flat screen perched on one side. Judging by the papers scattered over the desk, this was very definitely Rey’s work space and he used every centimeter of it.

  The contrast between the ordered neatness of his home life and the rich disarray of his working world struck her as strange, at first glance. For most people it was the other way around.

  When she thought about it, though, she had to admit to enjoying keeping her semidetached townhouse back in Christchurch in a neat and tidy state so it was an oasis for her when she arrived home from work each day. Seeing Rey’s personality so similarly reflected hers, she appreciated more sharply how much she looked forward to coming home to a calm and organized atmosphere.

  In this room, she could feel the energy of the work-place even despite its lavish opulence. This was a true representation of the Reynard del Castillo she’d come to know since her arrival here. Focused, determined, but still taking the time to appreciate the indulgences his life afforded.

  She wandered over to the large corner window that overlooked the city lights. From here, she could just about see the harbor in the distance, but overall she had the impression of being able to look out over the whole world.

  Heat suffused her back as she became aware of Rey standing close behind her. His reflection stared at her in the glass. With the sparkle of the city’s lights a halo around him and his features thrown into relief by the office lighting, she was struck anew by the sheer male beauty of him. His eyes burned under heavy dark brows, his chiseled cheekbones high and leaving his cheeks in shadows below them.

  She found herself staring at his lips, at the full lower curve, the deeply indented cupid’s bow of his upper lip. She doubted even Michelangelo’s skill could have captured his near-perfect features. She wished she had the right to touch him, to trace the sharply defined edges, to reach up and kiss him, taste him again.

  Rina closed her eyes briefly, unsure whether in doing so she was erasing his image from her memory, or imprinting it there in perpetuity. She started as a warm hand enveloped her shoulders, long fingers gently gripping her bare flesh. It would be the most natural thing
in the world to just allow herself to lean back against the expanse of his broad chest. To let his heat infuse her body. To drop her head against his shoulders and to expose her neck to his touch.

  Her eyes flew open as Rey lifted her tumbling hair to one side and with that one single movement, exposed the tender skin of her throat and neck. The image she watched now was strangely sensual as the dark-haired man, trapped in the glass, bent to press his lips to the exact point where her shoulder and neck met. She gasped at the contact, trying desperately to quell the throb of longing that pulled inexorably through her body at his touch.

  Rey lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers in their reflection again.

  “It’s quite a view, isn’t it?”

  His voice was deep, the sound a rumble of air across the shell of her ear. The innuendo in his voice was as sinfully persuasive as the touch of his hands on her shoulders, hands which seemed to have a mind of their own as they skimmed down her arms and over her body, one reaching up to cup her breast through the vibrant blue fabric of her dress, the other skimming down, over her hip and lower.

  Heat and moisture pooled in a flood at the apex of her thighs and she squeezed her legs together involuntarily, the sharp clench of muscles making the sensations running through her sharper, clearer, simply more.

  Rey pressed his lips once more to her neck, his teeth grazing her skin ever so gently, before she felt the warm rasp of his tongue across her skin. She had no resistance left. She dropped her head back, exactly as she had imagined, and allowed him to bear her weight.

  She felt him push up the hem of her dress, felt the warmth of his hand as he cupped her mound, his fingers skimming over that part of her that screamed for his touch, screamed for release.

  Rina watched their reflection, watched as the man in the glass eased aside the damp fabric of the woman’s panties and allowed his fingers to stroke the moist crease exposed there. She could almost fool herself that this wasn’t happening to her. That it was someone else reflected there in the glass. That it was anyone but Rey who strummed her body to a crescendo that remained just out of reach.

  And in that moment, the exact moment he touched her most intimately and her senses went wild, came the dousing reality that it should not be her. That she had no right to take the pleasure he offered her. She had no right to offer the same in return.

  “Stop!” she cried, her voice a fractured facsimile of its usual self.

  Rey’s hands stilled. “Querida, why stop? I can feel you, every part of you. You’re so close.” His voice dropped to a whisper, his breath a caress against her skin. “Let me give you this, let me take you over the edge. I will not allow any harm to come to you. Trust me.”

  Every particle in her body shrieked at her to give him the right to continue, to bring her to a climax that she knew would render her senseless, useless to say no to him, to anything he wanted. But her mind knew with damning reality that she would never be able to face herself again, let alone her sister, if she allowed this to carry on.

  “No, please. I can’t.” She shook her head frantically, tears burning at the back of her eyes.

  It was pain and torture, yet pleasure of indescribable heights at the same time.

  “Please,” she begged again, “don’t make me.”

  The words acted as effectively as a drenching shower of freezing rain, and she felt his mental withdrawal as keenly as the physical. His hands, which had continued, slow and gentle on her body, now stilled before he dropped them to his side and stepped away from her.

  Rina turned from the glass, unable to look at herself, unable to look at him and the questions that undoubtedly raged in his eyes, even as they remained unspoken on his lips.

  “I’m so sorry,” she mumbled as she straightened her panties under the privacy of her dress. Her tender flesh still throbbed and ached. “I should never have let things get this far. It’s not you, seriously, it’s me. I…” she trailed off, suddenly at a loss for words.

  How did you explain to the man who had very nearly brought you to orgasm, that you couldn’t let him touch you again, ever?

  Reynard rested his hands against the back of one of the large leather couches and looked at her. She couldn’t hold his gaze, fearful of the recrimination—or, worse, the questions—she might see there.

  “Can we go now, please?” she asked, her voice finally a little stronger.

  He didn’t even speak, only nodded, and gestured to the door to his office. As she accompanied him down the hallway, Rina tried to pull her thoughts together. She could not allow anything like this to happen again. It had come too close to total capitulation on her part. And yet, deep inside, a part of her continued to crave him, crave his touch.

  She groaned inwardly. The sooner Sara returned to this forsaken rock in the Mediterranean and resumed her life here, the better, because right now Rina couldn’t wait to resume hers, far away from here.

  But, a little voice reminded her, you have nothing left at home anymore. All your hopes, all your dreams for the future—all gone. Sure, she still had her job, but hers was the kind of work she could do anywhere in the world, with her talents very much in demand.

  It was past time, she realized, for her to make a new beginning. Step forward in her life, rather than going back to where she’d been before. But whatever she chose to do, her life was not here with this man. That life belonged to Sara, and she’d been mad to even begin to think she could play with the fire ignited within her by being around Rey.

  If Sara returned tomorrow it wouldn’t be a day too soon.

  Ten

  Rey drove Sarina home in absolute silence. His body still clamored for her, the taste of her skin remained on his tongue. He’d wanted to see how far he could push her and he’d found out—found out he was just as susceptible to her wiles as she was to his. The knowledge was galling, and yet intoxicatingly exhilarating at the same time. He was man enough to know that, with only an ounce more persuasion, she would have capitulated to him—yet gentleman enough not to force her. The power lay firmly in his hands.

  The fact that it had left his body raging with fire and need was a discomfort he would learn to either live with or overcome completely.

  He had no doubt she’d been as enraptured as he. What was it, he wondered, that had broken through the veil of sensual pleasure and brought her back to damning reality? He’d wanted to take her all the way—to ensnare her, for want of a better phrase. Beneath the exterior that was identical to her twin’s lay a rich and sensuous nature. If he could tap into that, he would ensure she fell completely under his spell.

  Keeping her in his life, in his bed, would make things safer for everyone—and, no doubt, prove intensely pleasurable along the way.

  Rey snuck a glance at Sarina, sitting next to him in the close confines of the car. Her face was pensive, a tension around her eyes that hadn’t been there earlier this evening. Her hands lay clasped together in her lap and even in the dark interior, he could tell they were tightly clenched. Her posture, also, was taut—as if every muscle in her body was poised and ready for flight—and suggested that she hovered on the surface of her car seat rather than sank within it. Would she run from him? he wondered. Would she decide to cease this pretense and cut her losses? While he wouldn’t deny that it would be a relief to have this stupid blackmail business no longer hanging over his head, he perversely still wanted to see just how far Sarina was prepared to take this.

  He knew she was shaken by the strength of her reaction to him. Truth be told, he was equally shaken. Overriding that, however, was a frustration that went beyond the physical. He couldn’t afford for her to run away. Not now, not when Abuelo was growing stronger again and would be permitted to return home soon—and especially not while Benedict was still in hospital, his accident all the while feeding Abuelo’s obsession with the curse.

  It occurred to him that he should never have organized a vehicle for her. It would allow her all too much freedom when he needed to know where sh
e was at any given time. Perhaps, with gentle persuasion, he could convince her to stay with him at his apartment. In her own room, if she continued to insist on such. Yes, she required careful handling, that much was clear. Keeping up the travesty of an engagement was surely taking its toll on her—even this evening, she’d almost slipped and exposed her true occupation.

  It would be interesting to work with her, he realized. To watch how she would reveal herself and her experience when exposed to the del Castillo publicity machine. The concept of a new challenge with Sarina sent a thrill of anticipation through his veins. He would keep her close at hand, set her up in his office, in the room where she’d almost capitulated under his touch.

  The constant reminder would hopefully be a sensual burr in her side—the images of the two of them in the glass a tangible, visceral thing every time she glanced out the windows. An inner satisfaction spread throughout him. Yes, he still held the ultimate control over this situation, and would continue to do so for as long as she and her reprehensible sister believed they had him hoodwinked.

  He reached out and laid a hand on her fisted knot of fingers. She jumped beneath his touch, and despite the faint clawing edge of frustration that still clung deep inside, a small burst of humor settled upon him that she could react so.

  “I won’t bite, you know,” he said softly, injecting as much comfort into his words as he was able. “What happened tonight was my fault. All of it. I overstepped the parameters we set when we agreed to get engaged so early in our relationship. It would be unfair of me to expect more from you than you can give right now.”

  “Thank you,” she replied softly, her face still resolutely turned away to stare out the side window.

  But his words had the required effect. He could feel her begin to relax, sense the rigidly bound muscles in her body begin to ease. As they pulled up outside the cottage and he walked her to the door, he permitted himself the barest brush of his lips upon her cheek.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, about eight-thirty?”