Fortunately that wasn’t his problem. He had given her conscience an out clause but he still didn’t want her to suddenly decide to take it...not when he was burning up for her, his body raging with need and desire...
He slipped his fingers underneath the lacy briefs and along her crease, seeking out the slippery nub of her clitoris, wanting to play with it until she was begging him to carry on, until her mind was for him and him alone.
Emily gasped. She arched back and gripped his shoulders. They were still fully clothed and there was something wickedly decadent about that—something that made his finger rubbing against her feel shockingly, wonderfully intimate.
Leandro curled his free hand into her hair and titled her head back at just the right angle so that he could kiss her senseless, barely giving her the opportunity to surface for air.
‘Enjoying yourself?’ His voice was a husky murmur and Emily nodded on a groan. ‘Do you,’ he grunted, against his better judgement, ‘feel unfaithful to the man you’re about to engage with in joyous wedlock?’
‘Please, Leandro...’ she panted as he began to rub his finger against her, bringing her to soaring heights before slowing the pace so that she could catch her breath and try and get her brain working.
‘Do you?’
‘No,’ Emily whispered. ‘I told you... Our relationship... We... It’s not physical...’
Not physical yet...
‘Shall we go back to the hotel?’ he murmured huskily. ‘You don’t want a midnight swim in the ocean with me, and my practical streak is telling me that making love on the sand might get a little...uncomfortable. When I enjoy you, I want to enjoy you without the distraction of any discomfort...’
Without warning, he swept her off her feet and began walking back in the direction of the hotel.
Emily squealed.
‘People will see us, Leandro!’
‘Oh, the joy of owning this place. I don’t care. I’m sure tongues are already wagging anyway...’
‘You haven’t said anything, have you?’ she asked, alarmed, and she heard the wicked grin in his voice when he replied.
‘I don’t have to. Any idiot would have been able to notice the way I’ve been looking at you for the past few days.’
‘I haven’t.’
‘That’s because you’ve been busy trying to keep your eyes off me.’
‘I can’t imagine what you must think of me,’ she muttered against his chest.
She could well imagine. A woman with no moral scruples. A woman who was happy to sleep with her boss while making wedding plans to marry another man. She might have sketched out some of the truth behind her relationship with Oliver—and who knew? Leandro might well have bought it—but she had to admit to herself that he wasn’t quite the cad she had always imagined him to be.
She felt that she had deliberately chosen to see the superficial side to him—to see the man who played the field, picking up women and dumping them without a backward glance.
She had never questioned his ethics. Instead she had chosen to equate them with the ethics of her father. She hadn’t stopped to consider that Leandro was simply a single red-blooded male who was free to have affairs and to enjoy the single life—unlike her father, who had been married, with a child, and had chosen to fool around in the most despicable fashion behind his wife’s back. Where her father had made a career out of deceit and lies, Leandro had promised nothing to the women he had dated.
At heart, he was far more of a romantic than she was, and while that should have absolved her from feeling any guilt she was still overwhelmed by it as he nudged open the door to his cabana and carried her to his bed.
His room was similar to hers, with variations in the colour scheme and in the local paintings on the wall over the bed. Flowers in her room...birds in his.
She allowed herself a few seconds of distraction, looking around her curiously, registering the clothes neatly folded on a chair—obviously part of room service and tidied by one of the hotel cleaners. She imagined that he was not a man who spent much time keeping his surroundings pristine.
Inevitably, though, her eyes returned to him, to where he was standing at the foot of the bed with one hand on the button of his trousers.
‘You were saying...?’ Leandro drawled, not making a move towards her.
‘What was I saying?’
‘I think your conscience was beginning to act up...’
‘I didn’t think you’d heard.’
‘I heard. You want to succumb to a change of mind, Emily? You’re free to go. I’ve always made it a rule never to get into bed with any woman who didn’t want to be there.’
‘I bet you haven’t had anyone who didn’t.’
‘Are you about to spoil my record? If you are, tell me and I’ll get the cold shower running.’
Automatically her eyes skimmed the bulge in his trousers that was vibrant proof of how aroused he was, and all over again her thoughts went into meltdown.
So who cared what he thought of her? They weren’t about to embark on a soul-searching relationship, were they? No. They were about to have sex and this might be the only time in her life when she felt this way—out of control, trembling with anticipation for a man. It had never happened before. Who was to say that it would ever happen again?
If he thought she was easy, then so be it. She wasn’t and never had been. The most she could be accused of would be greed. Greed to taste what he had to offer.
Besides, within a couple of weeks she would walk away and never lay eyes on him again. His opinion of her wouldn’t matter.
She was guiltily aware of a certain amount of double standards. She had been free to express her negative opinions of him and yet she was uncomfortably aware that he was now more than entitled to negative opinions of her—and she didn’t care for it.
‘I’m not having a change of mind,’ she denied. ‘My feet are sandy.’
‘We can have a shower together...’
Leandro dealt her a slashing, sexy smile that made her toes curl.
‘And I’m glad you’re not having a change of mind...’
‘I don’t suppose it matters one way or the other, but I’m not...this person...’
Leandro raked his fingers through his hair and looked at her. ‘You needn’t have this conversation if you don’t want to...’
Did he want to become embroiled in her anxieties? Was that what this was about? Absolutely not. And yet, despite what his mind was telling him, he found himself moving towards the bed, sitting on it, facing her. Her legs were crossed and her back was ramrod-straight. Every pore and muscle breathed nervous tension.
‘Does my approval matter?’ he asked with curiosity.
‘Of course not!’ Emily scoffed, blushing.
‘How you choose to conduct yourself isn’t my concern.’
‘I realise that, Leandro, but I wouldn’t want you to think... I know you’ve had a high opinion of me work-wise...’
‘But we’re not talking about work here, are we?’ He gently pushed her back onto the pillows—to hell with the sand on their feet. ‘I like the dress, by the way. Have I mentioned that?’ He delicately slipped one strap off her shoulder and nibbled the soft skin there.
Emily felt as though a switch had been turned on inside her. The breath caught in her throat. Thinking clearly became an impossible task and she sighed as he continued to lick a delicate trail along her shoulder.
‘This dress wasn’t made for a bra...’
Her eyelids quivered as he disposed of it, shifting her so that he could unhook it from behind and then allowing her to wriggle free of it whilst keeping the dress intact.
He was mesmerised by the outline of her small breasts pushing against the slippery fabric. Just imagining what they would feel like in his big hands
, what they would taste like, almost made him groan aloud.
He propped himself up on one elbow and gazed at her averted profile, her face tilted up, her eyes closed and her mouth parted.
‘Take your clothes off for me...’ he whispered huskily, and Emily turned to look at him.
Desire blazed in her eyes. Part of her couldn’t believe she was doing this. Another part revelled in the freedom of being turned on without even having to work at it. She was so wet between her legs that her underwear was uncomfortable. It was shocking and intensely exciting at the same time.
‘Don’t tell me you’re shy...?’
‘Of course...er...of course not...’ She laughed nervously and sat up so that she could free herself of the dress. His eyes were pinned to her. It was heady, knowing that he was watching—watching as she reached down to grasp the dress so that she could pull it over her head.
Her breasts bobbed, tiny and utterly tantalising, and Leandro couldn’t resist. He pinned her to the bed and she gasped as his mouth sought and found one pert nipple, licking and sucking until she was tingling all over, unable to contain her whimpers of pleasure.
She couldn’t keep still. Her fingers curled into his dark hair and she wanted his mouth everywhere. He moved from one nipple to the other and she squirmed and panted, took his hand so that she could guide it to the breast he wasn’t suckling.
He was still in his clothes! And she was strangely too shy to take charge of undressing him. The hardness of his erection pressing against her was both thrilling and scary. She wanted to touch it but was afraid to. He felt absolutely massive!
He reared up so that he could yank his tee shirt over his head and then, moving to stand at the side of the bed, relieved himself of his trousers and underwear. She found herself sneaking a surreptitious glance at him.
She held her breath and tried not to gape as his nakedness captured every atom of her attention.
Even seeing him in his swimming trunks on the beach, barefoot and bare-chested, had not prepared her for the impact he had on all her senses.
Legs planted squarely on the ground, he watched her with amusement as she stared...and stared...and stared.
When he reached down to touch himself she nearly fainted.
She had tried to splutter out her guilty excuses along the lines of not being that kind of girl...but if Leandro had had any doubts on that score they were put to rest now, by her genuine reaction to seeing him standing in front of her in all his naked glory.
She was bright red, and as fast as her hungry eyes skittered away from the sight of him it seemed that they were compelled to return to looking at the very thing that was sending her into such heated confusion. She might have been a teenager in the presence of her very first lover.
‘Enjoying the sight?’ He grinned wickedly and watched her go an even deeper shade of pink.
‘I...I’m not...’
‘I get it.’ He joined her on the bed and rolled her to face him so that they were looking at each other, their bodies pressed against one another. ‘You’re not the kind of girl who would have a sordid, short-lived liaison with a man whilst wearing an engagement ring on her finger because she’s about to be married to someone else. Admittedly, though, there is no engagement ring...’
Because, he thought, love and romance were not part of the package deal. He eased off her underwear and his hand brushed the soft downy hair between her legs. He felt her wetness and gritted his teeth in an attempt to control his wayward libido.
‘No,’ Emily said breathlessly, ‘I’m not.’ And yet she was...
She moaned softly as he nudged apart her legs to insert his thigh between them, moving it slowly but insistently and sending currents of raging excitement through her.
‘My perfect secretary...’ he nuzzled her neck and covered one breast with his hand, massaging it while rubbing her stiffened nipple with his thumb ‘...has revealed complexities I would never have guessed at. Or maybe I would...’
Emily gave up all attempts to have a conversation. There was too much going on with her body. Too many sensations taking over. Everywhere throbbed—from her breasts to the damp patch between her legs, which he was teasing to the point of no return. She eased back and reached down to touch him, to hold him.
‘You have to...stop...’ she gasped ‘...doing that...’
‘Doing what?’ He removed his thigh and instead cupped her with his hand, and this time the rhythmic motion was even more devastating to her senses. ‘This?’
‘I’ll... I won’t be able to...hold back...’ She could barely manage to speak!
‘Good,’ Leandro said with silky smoothness, enjoying her open, transparent reaction to what he was doing. In fact delighting in it in a way he couldn’t remember having done with any other woman before. ‘I’ll enjoy watching you unable to hold back...’
He covered her mouth with his and kissed her with drugging intensity. All the time his hand was moving between her legs, and his fingers playing with the sensitised bud of her swollen clitoris was shockingly pleasurable.
She felt abandoned—wild, reckless and utterly liberated. For the first time she was a woman freed of all inhibition, able to enjoy her body and what was being done to it.
What crazy fool had ever suggested that love had to be part of the deal when it came to sex?
Maybe that was where she had gone wrong in the past. Getting to know the guys she had been dating, wishing herself in love, hoping that lust would naturally follow... Somehow it had never crossed her mind that she could just fancy a guy so much that he could drive her crazy with desire.
Least of all would she have figured on the guy in question being Leandro!
There was no embarrassment when she was tipped over the edge and rocked by wave after wave of orgasm. She flung her head back on a deep moan of sheer thrilling pleasure and allowed herself to be carried away.
It didn’t matter that he was watching her in this most private of moments.
She arched back, shuddering as she came, and his mouth clamping to her nipple at that very instant was wildly, inconceivably erotic.
She looked at him shyly from under her lashes as her body slowly drifted back to Planet Earth.
With the speed of quicksilver it flashed through her mind that she couldn’t have had more dreamily perfect sex in a more dreamily perfect setting.
‘You do realise I’m not nearly finished with you...?’
‘I do realise that,’ Emily said gravely, and then, more daringly, ‘And I hope you realise that I might not be finished with you...’
‘I like the sound of that.’ He sprawled back, inviting her to do whatever she wanted with him.
The man, she thought as she looked at him with openly appreciative eyes, was sexy beyond belief. No wonder women flocked around him like bees to honey.
She straddled him in one easy movement and Leandro delighted in her slimness, in the compact grace of her body, in the smallness of her neat breasts, still wet from where he had been licking them. She had caught the sun, and the bits of her that hadn’t been exposed to it were pale and inviting.
He was rapidly coming to the conclusion that there were several things he disliked about the bodies of the women he had dated in the past. Not only the fact that all their body hair had been waxed into non-existence but also that their fullness, their overt voluptuousness, now seemed tacky and overdone. And they all seemed to have had an unhealthy predilection for acquiring all-over tans. He liked those pale lines on her—liked the way the rosiness of her disproportionately big nipples stood out...
He reached up to touch her breasts and she slapped his hands away. ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘No touching... I want to pleasure you now...’
‘I get a ridiculous amount of pleasure from touching...’
Emily laughed. She might have been
on some kind of drug, so heady did she feel.
She bent down to kiss him and her long hair fell in a silky canopy around their faces. His lips were hot and hungry and she smiled against his mouth because, strangely, she felt all-powerful. This unbelievably sexy man, her boss, was so turned on by her that he could scarcely control himself. His erection was an insistent rod of steel against her. He was so big that she wondered how on earth she would be able to accommodate him. And just thinking about that made her even wetter than she already was.
Her breasts brushed against his chest, setting off a series of chain reactions that were gloriously titillating. She had had no idea that her nipples were that sensitive.
She straightened and then wriggled herself so that she was sitting on his thighs and could hold him in her hand.
‘Now it’s my turn to watch,’ she said.
She pushed her tangled hair away from her face impatiently. Squatting on him, her legs on either side, she made sure that as she stroked him his hardness also rubbed against her. His lazy, drowsy eyes regarded her with amusement.
He was anything but shy. He was a man who was completely comfortable in his own skin, she realised. Indeed, he was a man who was completely comfortable in the person he was.
It was why, she now knew, he could afford the luxury of romance. It was why he believed in marriage. It was why he thought that there was the right person out there for him.
Whereas she...
She breathed in deeply and slammed the door shut on the person she was—the person she had never expected to be once upon a time.
Leandro stilled her hand. Had he missed something? For a second he could have sworn that he had lost her, and yet now, as she gazed down at him with a half-smile that would have driven any man crazy, she was as she had been before.
‘You...have...to stop...’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean a baby is not something I want...’
The Argentinian's Demand Page 12