Kneeling between her legs, he eased the tiny lace thong down over Grace’s hips.
‘What are you going to do?’ she asked.
Surprised by the question, he was silenced for a moment—but then he realised Grace was in darkness, trusting him to keep her safe. ‘I’m going to feast on you and make you scream,’ he said.
She laughed. ‘See that you do,’ she said.
His hunger was raging out of control, but he had only teased her with the lightest of kisses when she cried out, ‘Stop! I can’t—’
‘Hold on?’ he supplied as she bucked beneath him.
‘That’s your fault,’ she complained, still lost in pleasure as she gasped.
‘I blame myself entirely,’ he agreed dryly. ‘More?’
‘Of course,’ she said.
Nacho was amazing. Shouldn’t one tumultuous climax be enough for her? Shouldn’t that have quietened the hunger inside her at least for a while? Instead it had grown, and with it her fantasies of what Nacho might do or make her feel next had exploded into endless possibility.
When she quietened he made some suggestions that turned her on beyond belief. ‘Like this?’ she said.
‘Exactly like that,’ Nacho confirmed when she drew her knees back.
‘You like looking at me?’ she guessed.
‘I love looking at you,’ he countered.
Feeling him move over her, she uttered a soft cry of excitement, and then he stroked her with just the tip of his erection, back and forth. Raising her arms above her head, she rested them on the bank of pillows. Reading her wishes, he took her wrists in one big hand while he guided himself inside her with the other.
‘Oh, please,’ she gasped.
‘You’re so small and I’m so big—’
‘Yes,’ she agreed, in a tone that suggested that was great news. ‘More,’ she encouraged as her excitement mounted.
‘You’re so pale, so soft, and your hands are so tiny.’
‘And you’re big in every way,’ she said, remembering the weight of his erection as it flexed against her. ‘And those big hands are the most delicate instruments of pleasure,’ she added as he proved this to be true yet again. She groaned as each touch coloured in yet another frame in her imagination. ‘And now it’s my turn to explore you,’ she insisted, freeing her hands to reach down—only to discover that, as she had suspected, Nacho was built perfectly to scale. One hand wasn’t nearly enough to encompass his girth.
‘Stop!’ he ground out hoarsely.
Bracing her hands against his chest, she waited. And then cried out with shock as he moved. Had she thought she was ready for this? She could never be prepared for this, Grace realised, though Nacho was infinitely careful as he moved steadily deeper. When he inhabited her completely she gripped him fiercely with her muscles, triumphantly claiming him for her own.
‘Good?’ he murmured, brushing her lips with his.
‘Can’t speak,’ she admitted on a shivering breath, wishing she could see the smile she knew would be curving his lips. But when he moved again she couldn’t think, could only feel as she began to move instinctively in time with him.
‘Don’t hold back,’ Nacho advised. ‘Take as much time as you want. Take as much as you want.’
And with his promise in her head she fell with relief into mind-stripping release. Her fingers clawed at his back as she thanked him in words she had never used before.
‘Again?’ Nacho suggested with amusement, when she finally found some sort of holding area.
‘Yes,’ she breathed.
He made it no easier to hold on this time, and she fell the moment he entered her. He had made her greedy. He had made her want him more than ever. He had made her realise that her life from this moment on would be incomplete without Nacho in it.
‘You are a witch,’ he said when she used her muscles to keep him close.
Rocking into her, he drove the breath from her lungs in a muffled cry, and drove on until they both fell violently and gratefully into the darkness, tangled in each other’s arms.
‘Sleep?’ Nacho suggested some time later, when she sucked in a shuddering breath.
A slow, sexy smile curved her lips. ‘Not yet,’ she whispered.
‘Then ride me?’ he suggested.
‘All right. But don’t help me.’
‘I think we’re a long way past that—don’t you, Grace?’
Straddling him, she was turned on all over again by the way her legs were pressed wide by the size of Nacho’s body. But being in control was the best. It felt great. Having his hands on her buttocks helping her to ride him to greater effect felt better still. She threw her head back, basking in sensation. Even now Nacho gave her little more to do than enjoy him. He understood exactly how to increase her pleasure with the subtlest encouragement from the pad of his forefinger as he rocked her back and forth. And thankfully he ignored her when she warned him that she couldn’t hold out for long.
A wail of anticipation left her lips when she realised this was going to be fiercer and stronger than anything she had known so far. When she fell she must have blacked out for a moment, because she came round to find Nacho moving over her to an irresistible beat.
‘Again,’ he growled, and this time it wasn’t a question.
He lost it right there. Sensation compacted into a nuclear force that shot from his core, engulfing him.
‘Are you okay?’ she said, when finally they were quiet again.
‘I’m good,’ he confirmed. ‘You?’
He turned his head on the pillow to stare at Grace. The longing for her to see him had never been greater. He longed for her to know how she made him feel. He longed for her to see. But she couldn’t see.
Cupping her face, he stroked her cheek and kissed her mouth tenderly. ‘You’re a very special woman, Grace. Very special to me.’
‘Unique, I hope,’ she said, smiling in that way she had when she wanted to make light of things so they couldn’t hurt her.
‘You are unique,’ he said fiercely, wanting her to feel his passion. Making love to Grace defied classification. There had to be some new word for it. Sex didn’t even come close. ‘I didn’t hurt you, did I?’ he said, his concern bringing tears in her eyes
‘Only here,’ she said, clutching her chest over her heart. ‘Otherwise I’m fine.’
She said this wryly, with a small smile, and that smile tore at his heart, because he knew Grace would always say she was fine. She didn’t want to be a trouble to anyone. She had probably reassured the doctors on the day they had told her she was going blind. But he guessed Grace bottled up her feelings and brought them out when she was alone to examine, and that thought stabbed him in the heart like a knife.
‘How can you be fine if you’re crying?’ he said gruffly, blotting her tears with his thumb-pad.
‘Because I’m not crying the way you think I am,’ she said.
‘And how is that?’ he said as she turned her head on the pillow so they were facing each other. ‘How many ways are there to cry?’ As he spoke he traced the line of her jaw.
‘You can cry from happiness,’ she said. ‘You can cry from feelings so big you can’t express them in words. You can cry with amazement that anything can be so good.’
‘Are you giving me a compliment?’ he asked with amusement.
‘Maybe,’ she admitted wryly, still defensive, still frightened to commit herself entirely to anything that could bring her hurt. ‘You’re so gentle and caring …’ Her face changed again. ‘And so damn good in bed.’
He laughed as he dragged her close for more kisses.
‘I didn’t think I was capable of making love like that, or even feeling like that,’ she admitted when he let her go.
‘If there’s one thing I’ve learned about you, Señorita Lundström,’ he said, cupping Grace’s chin and tilting her face so he could stare into her misty eyes, ‘it’s that you’re capable of anything you set your mind to. Perhaps this isn’t the right time to say it, but—’<
br />
‘But you’re going to say it anyway?’ she guessed.
‘Yes, I am. You’ve changed since we first met, Grace. You’re stronger. You’re more capable and more determined. Because you’ve had to be. I know that.’
‘And because I was completely over-awed by you at the wedding—by everyone there,’ she admitted. ‘I felt so out of my depth. No wonder you thought I was naïve and awkward.’
‘I thought you were beautiful.’
‘Well, I felt like a fool. It was one thing being Lucia’s friend, but being thrown into the type of society you Acostas inhabit—royalty, celebrities …’
‘Who have exactly the same problems the rest of us do,’ he pointed out.
‘Not quite,’ she argued wryly.
‘So that accounts for your Cinderella flight?’
She laughed as she snuggled closer. ‘I didn’t feel safe with you then.’
‘And now?’
She would never feel safe without Nacho again, Grace realised with concern. So much for standing on her own two feet. One night with Nacho and she was back to square one.
‘What’s wrong?’ he said, feeling her tension.
She braced herself, and then told him the truth. ‘I always think I’ve got this sight thing kicked, and then something happens and all the progress I’ve made counts for nothing.’
‘Has that happened tonight, here with me?’
She shifted in his arms, knowing it was too soon to reveal her true feelings for Nacho, or how vulnerable she was. She’d just about convinced him she was strong. What would he think if he realised the truth? That where he was concerned she was utterly exposed, utterly defenceless?
‘Hey,’ he murmured in complaint when she turned away from him. ‘Stop worrying about the future, Grace, enjoy now.’
He was right, she reasoned. ‘Is that an order?’ she said, turning back.
‘Yes, it is.’ He felt his heart squeeze tight as Grace reached out a hand to find his lips.
‘You’re smiling,’ she said, tracing them.
It was one of those smiles Grace had talked about—the type of smile that could very easily have tears attached. ‘I was just thinking we should get some sleep,’ he said with no emotion in his voice. ‘Tomorrow’s a working day for both of us.’
‘Liar,’ she said. Her lips curved in a smile. ‘You’re thinking about making love again.’
Capturing her hand, he pressed a passionate kiss to her palm. ‘You know me too well, Grace.’
‘I wish,’ she said quietly.
CHAPTER TEN
SHE woke in Nacho’s big bed at the hacienda to find she was alone, and in those first waking moments she felt panic. It was like the early days, when she hadn’t been able to get out of bed without falling over something—even in her own house. When she had first known she was losing her sight she had practised moving around the house wearing an eye mask, but she had always cheated. Peeping had become part of the routine. One day peeping hadn’t been an option for her, and it wasn’t an option now.
Nacho must be at the stables, she reasoned, trying to calm down. Lucia had said the stable yard was where her brothers lived, and that the houses they owned were for civilised people to inhabit. She felt for the nightstand, hoping there might be a phone there so she could maybe make an internal call, but there was nothing. And—
Oh, damn! Now she had succeeded in knocking her water over.
She wanted the bathroom, but didn’t have a clue where it was, or how she’d make her way there.
She had to calm down. Sucking in some deep breaths, she concentrated on counting the Acosta residences. There was the palazzo on Fire Island, the penthouse in London, and the main estancia Grace had visited for Lucia’s wedding—and here …
No good—heart still thundering.
Next she counted pianos. Four residences. Four pianos. There was a piano in every home because Nacho’s mother had used to play. Perhaps Grace could play one of the pianos while she was here.
Still hammering—hammering so hard now she could hardly breathe.
So now she thought through her favourite waltz, page by page, bar by bar, note by note.
She really couldn’t wait any longer. She would have to find the bathroom—crawling if she had to. She’d done it before. She knew that if she crawled around the perimeter of a room she would find doors and hopefully, eventually, the room she needed. Then a noise caught her ear.
‘Buddy?’
Grace exclaimed with excitement. She had never been so relieved to hear the scratch of claws on wood before. Nacho must have brought him up before he left so she wouldn’t be stranded. She’d been wrong to imagine Nacho would simply get out of bed and leave her to it. She was right about him. He was caring. And sexy as hell.
Feeling confident now, she turned her face into the pillow to drag in Nacho’s warm, clean scent. She smiled, absorbing the contented ache of a body that had been very well used. What a night! Nacho had revealed himself to Grace in ways she could never have imagined. Who would guess there was such a tender, humorous individual beneath that autocratic manner? Or that he could be such an amazing lover …?
The hardest of the Acosta brothers?
She didn’t think so. Nacho was wonderfully warm. And she had relaxed properly for the first time in a long time, Grace realised as she stretched contentedly. She had learned a lot about herself too—like her insatiable capacity for passion. She felt womanly and appreciated, thanks to Nacho.
‘Go find your harness, Bud,’ she called, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed so she could test the floor with her feet. ‘I bet he’s brought it up …’
He had, and once she had Buddy to lead her around Grace moved swiftly to get ready for the day. She found her clothes neatly arranged on a leather sofa, and her toiletries waiting in the bathroom. Even her stick was propped against the sink, where she couldn’t miss it.
‘Someone has guessed that you don’t go everywhere with me,’ she told Buddy with amusement.
The shower had been left on an appropriate setting, and there was a stack of towels waiting for her on the side. She showered and dressed quickly, trusting her guardian angel had also matched up her clothes: jeans, sneakers, underwear and a tee, obviously brought over from the guest cottage. And then with Buddy’s help she found her way down to a warm kitchen, fragrant with the smell of freshly baked bread. The room was alive with the chatter of at least two women.
Nacho’s housekeepers, Grace presumed, greeting them brightly. ‘Buenos días …’
‘Buenos días, Señorita,’ the women chorused gaily, ushering Grace into the room.
If the women wondered at Grace’s sudden appearance in the main house they certainly didn’t show it. Their welcome couldn’t have been warmer. She heard the scrape of chair legs on a stone floor and felt Buddy’s tug as he prepared to take her towards the seat that was being offered to her. Releasing him, she sat down.
The two women vied with each other to offer Grace every type of food and drink imaginable. Grace tried to find an appetite, so she didn’t offend them, but all she could think about was when Nacho would be back. He would be out riding, she guessed, and one housekeeper, Maria, confirmed this. Señor Acosta was planning to meet Grace later that afternoon, Maria explained.
So long to wait! Grace hid her disappointment. She did have work to do, but first, if there was a piano in the house, maybe she could play it …
She asked the question and was surprised at the long pause. She wondered if it meant the two older women were exchanging glances. ‘I understand if no one is allowed to play it,’ she said, remembering the tragedy that had killed Nacho’s parents, and the fact that Lucia had mentioned it had something to do with a piano. She couldn’t imagine what—how could a piano and a flood be connected?—but Grace had never liked to probe around such a sensitive issue.
Maria had obviously come to a decision, as the housekeeper exclaimed, ‘It would be maravillosa … wonderful to ha
ve music in the house again, señorita. The piano is in the hallway. Please, allow me to show it to you. But first I must find the key.’
Grace’s excitement mounted. It had been so long since she had played a piano—since before she had lost her sight. So she wasn’t even sure she still could. And she didn’t really know why she had this sudden urge to play again, but she felt something here and knew she had to answer the longing. If she could only play for Nacho …
Her heart pounded with excitement at the thought as Buddy led her out of the kitchen and into the hall.
The hallway was big and fresh and filled with light. Grace always rejoiced that she still had a sense of light— it made everything feel so much better. There was a flower display somewhere … she could smell the blossom. And beeswax. And floor polish. She smiled to think she would never have noticed things like that before. And that she would have found her rubber-soled sneakers annoying as they squeaked across the marble tiles, she realised, smiling wryly. She had so much to be grateful for.
Buddy brought her to a halt next to Maria, who was unlocking the piano. It was tucked beneath the grand staircase. No wonder she hadn’t known it was there. Buddy had never had to make a detour round it. She felt for the piano stool, and then remembered that Nacho’s mother would have been the last person to sit on it. It felt like a real privilege to be taking her place, hopefully playing the music that had once brought her and her children so much pleasure.
‘I’m afraid the piano hasn’t been played for years, señorita,’ Maria murmured as Grace’s hands hovered above the keys.
‘That’s what I thought,’ Grace said quietly, thinking about the woman who had sat here before her. I hope you don’t mind me playing your piano, she reflected silently. ‘I haven’t played for some time, either,’ she explained to Nacho’s housekeeper ruefully. ‘I’m not even sure I can still play.’
Grace’s heart squeezed tight when Maria touched her arm. ‘I’m sure you can do anything you set your mind to, señorita.’
Grace could only hope Maria was right.
She sat for a long time without doing anything after Maria left. Putting off the moment, she guessed. The hall felt very quiet, very still, very empty. It was easy to imagine ghosts were listening. ‘I don’t want to let you down,’ she murmured, reminding herself that all piano keys were set out in a logical sequence, so it should be no big deal that she couldn’t see. The notes weren’t going anywhere, and she could hear what she was playing just as well as she ever had. She just had to remember what Clark, the pianist at the club had told her. ‘Close your eyes, Grace, and let the music flow …’
A Taste of the Untamed Page 11