Still, he didn’t touch her.
She stroked her fingers across the short hairs at the nape of his neck and pressed her aching breasts against his chest. The nipples swelled and hardened on contact. With her full length against him, she could feel every inch of his hard body, breathe in his unique male scent. The hard ridge of his erection aroused her further, making her lift her leg to wrap her foot around his calf, and get up on tip toe to try to center it where she ached the most.
Finally, he touched her.
With a suddenness that took her breath away, he grabbed two handfuls of her bottom and lifted her until he was cradled in the valley of her thighs. Moisture filled her panties as she ground her hips against him.
“I see you’ve changed your mind,” Rafael said, his voice rough with passion.
Without giving Rebekah a chance to answer, he spun her around so she faced away from him. She assumed the position, her fingers splayed out on top of the cool, wooden tabletop. She stood frozen, except for the trembling of her inner thighs, awaiting his next move.
His long fingers swept her thick hair aside to hang over her shoulder so he could drop tender kisses along her neck and the sensitive skin behind her ear. She closed her eyes to savor each connection of his lips to her flesh.
Before she could process his actions, his hands climbed up the back of her bare thighs. Heady desire engulfed her, weakening her resistance. Rendered helpless against the onslaught of his skilled touch, she longed to have him stroke her intimately, to ease the throbbing that blossomed between her legs.
“You won’t be needing this,” he said.
Not a second later, she heard the sound of tearing material and felt his hands on her naked hips. He’d torn off her panties! The fragile silk proved no match for the strength of his powerful hands. As he caressed her bare bottom, she fell onto her forearms, using the table to stay upright because her weakened knees could no longer support her.
“Rafe,” she breathed.
Her senses reeled with an indecent swell of anticipation as her mind registered he was on his knees behind her. The folds of her skirt were bunched in his meaty fist while his mouth—his wicked, thorough mouth—pressed reverential kisses along the base of her spine. Lips parted, back arched, she squeezed her eyes tight as he showered kisses down the curve of her backside and licked the underside of her right cheek before his tongue lingered to flick a circular pattern around the flat mole of the left one.
With one hand, he nudged her legs wider. A low whimper escaped her throat. Her body pulsed, wanting what was on offer, consumed with need. And then…contact. The moist swirl of his tongue against her damp, aroused flesh was more than she could bear. With a helpless moan, her shaky knees gave way. The sureness of his hands eased her crumble to the floor.
She offered no resistance when he positioned himself between her open legs, leaving the path clear for the descent of his mouth. Her heart beat crazily in her chest in response to the gradual slide of his palms up the silky length of her thighs.
A guttural sound emerged from Rafael’s throat, and he lowered his face between her legs, kissing her intimately. She slid backward on the cold tile, trying but not really wanting to escape his mouth, but he used his superior strength to hold her in place. He raised his head long enough to loop her right leg over his shoulder, licked at the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, then directed his undivided attention to her moist center.
His grip tightened on her quivering thighs, keeping her open to every swipe of his rapacious tongue. She twisted against him, aching, throbbing, her breath harsh and shallow. His teeth gently nipped at her, teasing her sensitive skin for long seconds, leaving her gasping and forcing a long, low moan from her lips. She drowned in the pleasure of his mouth, her body growing wetter at the contented groans she heard from him, as if he enjoyed what he was doing as much as she enjoyed having him do it.
His tongue stroked the bundle of nerves with precision, then drew it between his soft lips with a prolonged suck. The single act catapulted her into the abyss. She exploded into his mouth. Her breasts thrust toward the ceiling with a sudden jerk while a hoarse cry of satisfaction tore from her lips as her body convulsed. She was out of control, shattering into a million pieces, lost in the sensations of an orgasm that fired through her with such force she couldn’t catch her breath.
Even after her climax, his head remained between her legs. His mouth wrung every last quiver from her pulsing body, his actions akin to those of a starved man who aimed to capture every morsel and lick his plate clean.
When he finally leaned back on his haunches, he cleansed the sheen of her body’s moisture from his lips with a swipe of his tongue. Hunger swirled in the depths of his eyes, darkening them to charcoal gray. He had been deprived of the release granted to her, and the massive bulge between his legs confirmed it.
Rebekah looked away from him as aftershocks vibrated through her. With trembling fingers, she pushed her skirt back down to her knees.
Chapter Nine
Rafael pushed up from the floor and helped Rebekah to her feet.
“I guess you’re proud of yourself,” she said, straightening her clothes. In the aftermath, she was angry. She hadn’t handled him at all. He’d been in control the entire time. Two nights in a row she’d been like softened clay in his hands, unable to resist him.
“Actually, that’s the last thing I have on my mind. I’m very horny right now.” His admission didn’t surprise her because of the blatant evidence. The old Rafael would have taken her on the floor, which made her wonder what had made him stop.
“Well, don’t think I’ll return the favor.”
His dimples appeared and his eyes became alight with amusement. “Oh, I already know you don’t like to do that—unless things have changed?”
“Nothing’s changed.” Feeling self-conscious, Rebekah combed her fingers through her voluminous hair. “And it’s not that I didn’t like to do it, it’s that you wanted me to—to—”
“To let me finish in your mouth?”
Heat warmed her cheeks. “Yes.” She reached up to close a button that had popped open from her wanton writhing on the floor.
His hooded gaze remained on the movement of her fingers as they fumbled with the button. The exquisite orgasm he’d gifted her with made her bones feel like liquid and her skin hypersensitive. What happened between them couldn’t be helped, she reasoned. His lovemaking skills hadn’t diminished one iota in the intervening years. What woman could resist such an erotic onslaught?
“That’s every man’s fantasy,” he said with a silky drawl.
“I’m sure…” She almost said she was sure he’d had plenty of women willing to do that for him, but she didn’t. They had an agreement not to bring up the past anymore. “I’m sure it is.”
Just behind Rafael she caught sight of the torn remains of black silk he had tossed behind him. He followed her line of vision and reached down to pick up the torn panties. When she reached out her hand to take it, he tucked it into the pocket of his jeans.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she whispered fiercely, as if someone else stood in the kitchen with them.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” He headed toward the front door.
“You can’t keep that. Give it to me!”
He ignored her, never faltering in his steps.
“Rafe!” He turned to face her just inside the door.
“Think about it,” Rafael said.
“Think about what?”
“About us,” he answered. “We both have needs, we’re both adults, and we’re still married. There’s nothing wrong with us satisfying our needs with each other during the interim.”
He made it sound so simple, but it would only complicate matters between them, and she had to consider the ramifications of her actions. Could she explore a purely sexual relationship with him and walk away unscathed at the end of it?
“It’s a ridiculous idea,” Rebekah said.
/> “Is it?” He pulled the underwear from his pocket and dangled it in front of her.
“You’re a pig.”
“Think about it.”
She made a grab for her underwear, but he snatched it out of her reach.
One finger curled into the waistband of her skirt and drew her close. He dipped his head and pressed a quick kiss to her mouth. “It’s not a crazy idea.” His warm breath fanned across her lips. She gazed into his eyes, on the brink of abandoning her resolve and yielding to more ecstasy in his arms.
He released her, allowing his hand to drag along her buttocks. She took two steps backward and broke the spell.
His sensuous lips curved into a smile. “Buenas noches, amada.”
Rebekah closed the door with a firm thump and pressed her back against it. She closed her eyes, unsuccessfully trying to will her breathing to return to normal. Her entire body shook. How could she have allowed herself to get so carried away? How could she have allowed him to stoke the flames inside her and reawaken her body to intimacies that made her long for him again?
It had taken several years to put her splintered heart back together after the tabloid story. The joy of becoming a mother had helped her through the pain, but the fear of getting hurt had caused her to delay involvement with anyone else for a long time. She had devoted her time to her son, working, and going to school to get her degree.
Rebekah groaned inwardly, pressing her palms to her heated cheeks.
“Enough, Rebekah,” she whispered. “Get over it. He’s only a man.” A virile, sexy man who’d had her moaning his name and crying out on the kitchen floor.
She reminded herself he’d destroyed their marriage with his selfish pursuits and caused her great humiliation. Because of him, she’d been forced to concede her parents had been right and had given her sound advice, which, to the detriment of her heart, she had disregarded in youthful ignorance.
Yet despite the mental catalog of reasons why she shouldn’t want Rafael, her body couldn’t connect the dots.
Letting out a slow breath through her lips, Rebekah pushed away from the door to go upstairs. She could not avoid a long, cold shower tonight.
* * * *
Back at the hotel, Rafael paced the floor slowly, deep in thought. The CNN newscaster gave an update on strife in other parts of the world, but he didn’t hear a word the man said.
He swirled the amber liquid of his favorite bourbon before swallowing a mouthful of it.
He was so aroused he might have to soak in a tub filled with ice. His inadequate memory had in no way prepared him for the pleasure he’d received tonight. His body wanted inside hers with such ferocity it shook him. It had taken monumental restraint to rise from the floor instead of unzipping his pants and filling her with his hard length.
Despite her enthusiastic response, with one small, sane part of his brain, he’d recognized it was too soon, and she wouldn’t handle that level of intimacy well. He’d set aside his own needs, but he doubted he’d be able to exercise the same level of restraint if he found himself in a similar circumstance again.
He came to a halt and drained his glass. His eyes remained on the view beyond the patio door. Long, rectangular buildings were covered in tiny squares of light in the darkness of night.
The thoughts that had speared through his mind earlier resurfaced. How would he manage the long separations for months at a time from his son? Another thought emerged. How would he manage the separation from his wife?
The seeds of an idea sprouted in his mind.
By some odd twist of fate, he and Rebekah were still married. What if they stayed married? What if he could convince her becoming a family was the best thing for Ricardo?
She didn’t trust him because of the past, so it would take some convincing. He’d wooed her once, and maybe he could do it again. It would be hard, but he would have to back off, give her room, and let her feel comfortable.
With renewed purpose, he picked up his cell phone and punched in the number for his assistant.
It was time to head home, and he was taking his wife and son with him.
Chapter Ten
Rebekah stroked her fingers down the strands of her ponytail, amazed she was on her way to California. She still didn’t know how she’d managed to pack for the summer and wrap up her personal life in four days.
She stretched her legs, enjoying the roominess of the first class seat. Across the aisle, Ricardo sat next to the window with Rafael seated beside him. Their dark heads were huddled together over the video game Ricardo had hardly put down since his father purchased it.
Rafael looked formidable in a black shirt and black jeans that hugged his muscular frame. His deep voice floated across the aisle to her as he whispered to his son, stirring her emotions.
Her eyes lowered to the words of the e-reader in her hand, but no matter how she tried not to think about what Rafael had done to her and made her feel, she couldn’t suppress the thoughts of their interlude in the kitchen. Every time he came to the house to see Ricardo, feelings of desire awoke and simmered beneath the surface.
She denied to herself that she looked forward to his visits with Ricardo, but each time the doorbell rang, her leaping heart betrayed the same excitement her son openly expressed. Fear she wouldn’t be able to resist him in California filled her. Yet oddly, he hadn’t done anything since that evening to make her feel he still wanted her.
He never again suggested they have what would amount to a sexual relationship to satisfy their mutual needs. In fact, he didn’t even appear interested anymore, which conversely increased her attraction to the idea, despite her reservations.
How could she even contemplate such a thing? To make love with Rafael meant she would be at the mercy of her feelings. She’d already reluctantly acknowledged she couldn’t become intimate with him without risking her heart in the process. Not when she knew at the end of a couple of months they would be divorced and living on opposite ends of the country.
The disturbing thoughts whorled around and around in her head like a circling bird of prey. She turned off the e-reader, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes.
Not for the first time, she wished he’d never touched her.
* * * *
When they landed at Los Angeles International Airport, as planned, Rafael walked ahead of Rebekah and Ricardo. She watched as he fielded questions from the photographers who encircled him as soon as they recognized him. With Ricardo’s hand tucked securely in hers, she walked swiftly past as if she didn’t know him. His personal assistant, Lydia, approached and hustled them into a waiting limo.
Ricardo’s eyes opened wide. “I’ve never been in a limo before,” he whispered in awe.
“Lucky you.” Lydia grinned. Her dark eyes crinkled at the corners behind black-framed glasses. “I didn’t ride in a limo until my high school prom at seventeen years old.” With her slender body and blue and black shoulder length hair, she barely looked more than seventeen at the moment, though Rebekah knew she was in her early thirties.
“Is it always so crazy for him?” she asked, referring to Rafael.
Her eyes drifted to Ricardo, who knelt on the leather seat and peered through the tinted windows at the passersby. Her unease grew tenfold when she thought about his safety and how the media exposure could affect him.
“Not always,” Lydia replied. “Sometimes one or two fans will approach him for an autograph, but if he’s lucky, no one will bother him and he can sail through.” She shrugged. “Then other times, you get the circus like today.”
A few minutes later, their luggage was in the trunk and Rafael slid onto the seat. Lydia tapped the glass partition separating them from the driver, and they pulled away from the curb.
Rafael rested his arm against the back of the seat and turned to Rebekah. His fingers lightly touched her ponytail. He hadn’t touched her since the night in the kitchen. The warmth in his gaze heated her blood and tripled her pulse.
“We’re on
our way home,” he said.
“I can’t wait to see your house.”
He only smiled at her.
The intensity in Rafael’s eyes caused a thread of fear to run down her spine. On his turf now, the constant interaction would erode any emotional barriers she tried to erect against him. The battle of wills had begun.
She knew two things about her husband. He loved a good fight. And he never lost.
* * * *
Instead of going straight to the house, they took a detour and went west on I-10 toward the Santa Monica Pier.
Ricardo’s eyes lit up when he saw the Pacific Ocean. Pointing through the window to the pier, he said, “Mom, look! There’s a Ferris wheel.”
“An entire amusement park is located there, and an aquarium,” Rafael added.
“Are we coming to this beach?” Ricardo asked.
Rafael nodded, giving his son an indulgent smile. “Yes. This is where we’ll build the sand castles.”
“Can we stay the whole day?”
“Sure can.”
“Yes!” When they pulled away, Ricardo craned his neck to keep the pier in sight. “I can’t wait.”
On Highway 10, they went north. Since she’d never been to California before, Rebekah felt some of her son’s excitement when she recognized the community names of Brentwood and Bel Air.
Before long, they arrived at Rafael’s residence in the affluent neighborhood of the Hollywood Hills. They pulled into the gated compound, and the closing gate shut out the rest of the world.
Though not a mansion, the house was a far cry from the motel room they used to rent on a weekly basis ten years ago. They stopped at the end of the driveway in front of the sprawling four-bedroom and four and a half bath ranch house. A lush, green lawn and pebble gardens gave the impression of having landed at an oasis.
“Wow,” Rebekah murmured under her breath when they entered the house. She stared up at the vaulted ceilings and open rafters of the living room. She recognized Mexican paintings and sculptures in the tastefully decorated room of large furniture and earth tones.
Fight for Love Page 7