Salazar's One-Night Heir

by Jennifer Hayward

  “Oh, God, Colt, I am so sorry.”

  He put a hand to his jaw. “It’s fine. No big deal.”

  “It’s swelling already.” She held up the bag of ice. “We can put this on it.”

  “I can,” he corrected, reaching for the bag.

  She held it behind her back. “Let me come in and do it. I feel so guilty. I can’t believe Knox was such a buffoon.”

  He fixed a dark, unyielding stare on her. “Give me the ice, Cecily. You know you coming in is a bad idea.”

  She firmed her mouth. “Let me come in and make sure you’re okay, then I’ll leave.”

  They stared each other down. “Fine,” he said, stepping back.

  She slipped through the door and kicked off her shoes. Extremely basic, the cabin consisted of a queen-sized bed, a chest of drawers, an armchair by the window and a tiny cooking area. Colt hadn’t personalized the space, in keeping with his drifter persona.

  When that struck a raw place in her throat, she shoved it from her head and moved to the kitchen area to wrap the ice in a towel.

  “Sit,” she said, pointing to the chair.

  He did. She perched on the arm and pressed the cloth full of ice to his jaw, making him wince.

  “He hurt you.”

  He gave her a grim look. “You might have let me retaliate.”

  “It would have cost you your job.” Knox would have made sure of it.

  A silence fell between them in the intimate stillness of the cabin. “I asked Daddy about Mama today,” she finally said to break it. “About what they were arguing about the day she died.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He wouldn’t tell me. He said it was between him and my mother. That I should let it go.”

  “Maybe you should.” He eyed her. “Marriages get rocky. Trust me. It’s a fact of life.”

  “Was your parents’ marriage difficult?”

  “My parents don’t actually have a marriage.” Cynicism stained his voice. “They have an open-ended partnership they draw upon when needed—utterly dysfunctional and scarily efficient all at the same time.”

  “Oh.” Maybe that explained some of the closed-offness of him. Why he never settled down. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m sure it works better than a great percentage of American marriages.”

  She had no doubt it did. Except she knew the magic did exist, because, despite the fiery nature of their union, her parents had loved each other. Adored each other. She just hadn’t found that magic yet.

  A dark hollow dug its way through her insides, Knox’s words ringing in her ears. Maybe it was true. Maybe she wasn’t capable of love—of giving herself to someone else. Maybe she would never have it.

  She adjusted the ice higher on his jaw. “I know I should let it go—what happened that day—it’s just Mama’s behavior was so off. Something never felt right about it. I think maybe if I understood what happened I could let go.”

  “And maybe it would only confuse you more.”

  “Maybe.”

  His sexy scent wrapped itself around her. No point in wearing that in the barn, she conceded, but she couldn’t help but absorb how perfectly the spicy, masculine scent highlighted this more urbane version of Colt. How utterly incapable she was of ignoring either version of him—the sweaty, earthy male she encountered in the barn every day or this drop dead gorgeous version of him. Both were irresistible.

  And suddenly she didn’t want to ignore it. Suddenly, she didn’t care about what was wise or smart anymore, about maintaining concentration on the end goal. Perhaps it was Knox’s cruel words or Davis’s humiliation of her that drove her—but she needed to know that kiss with Colt hadn’t just been a flash in the pan. That she was worth something. That Knox was wrong.

  “Colt?”

  “Mm?” She could see the dark glitter of attraction staining his amazing eyes. That he couldn’t hide.

  “Let me stay.”

  “No.” Hard. Implacable.

  She bit her lip. Swallowed her pride, because sometimes it got in the way of expressing what her heart truly wanted—this inability of hers to be vulnerable.

  She set her gaze on his. “I’m not good at this—you know I’m not. I’m an expert at pushing people away, at avoiding intimate relationships. Maybe it’s because I’ve been hurt too much. Maybe I’m simply not capable of it. But with you,” she said solemnly, “with the chemistry we share, it’s innate, it’s just there. And I need that tonight. I need to be with you.”

  An emotion she couldn’t read flickered in his eyes. “Cecily—”

  She held up a hand. “What I’m saying is I want this one night. I know you’re going to walk away—it’s good that you are, because my career is the most important thing in the world to me right now. But this, us, I want to know it.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ALEJANDRO’S HEART JOLTED in his chest. He could have taken just about anything she’d thrown at him and put the breaks on this insanity—but that—that was like a kick to the teeth.

  He ran a hand over his jaw, unfamiliar wiry stubble scraping his palm. How could he say yes? How could he say no? What must it have cost her to expose herself like that? And yet she had.

  Reason battled with madness. So he gave her that one night she was asking for? Showed to her, proved to her for one night of her life that she was special, that she was worth more than that jerk Knox Henderson. That she should hold out for everything she wanted and deserved. Was that really so crazy?

  And really, how much worse could this get? He’d already gotten so involved, made such a mess of it, that nothing short of him walking away from here in a day’s time was going to fix it.

  He raked a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure your head is on straight right now. That you’re not going to wake up tomorrow with a massive ‘seize the moment’ hangover and regret this.”

  She shook her head. “I know what I’m doing.”

  Alejandro considered himself an honorable man. A good man. But as Cecily slipped off the chair and moved her fingers to the side zipper of her dress, he knew he wasn’t a saint.

  Eyes on his, she slipped the sexy red dress off her shoulders and let it slip to the floor. His throat went dry. The lacy underwear she wore beneath it was a rich garnet that contrasted deliciously with her honey gold skin, the body the lace encased so perfectly formed it surpassed every one of his earlier fantasies.

  “You should lock the door,” he rasped.

  Her eyes glittered. She kicked the dress aside, walked to the door and locked it. As she turned and moved back to him, her stride smooth and unashamed in her nakedness, a switch flicked inside of him and he was completely and irrevocably lost.

  He pulled her onto his lap, her legs straddling his thighs. Cupping her nape, he exerted a light pressure to bring her mouth down to his. Open mouthed and hot, their kisses inflamed his senses. His hands at her hips, he held her in place for his delectation, each kiss unlike any he’d experienced before—so pure and real they stripped him bare. As if they were uncovering layers of each other that had yet to be explored.

  Wanting, needing to touch her beautiful body, he ran his palms up the hot, smooth skin of her back, luxuriating in her silken perfection. A sigh slipped from her lips, a decadent, hedonistic release of air that made him smile.

  “You like my callused hands?”

  She pushed back to look at him. “I have this fantasy...”

  His blood heated. “Which is?”

  A self-conscious shimmer invaded her brilliant blue gaze. “The night we were in the stables...when you were giving Bacchus that massage.” Her silky long lashes shaded her cheeks. “I was imagining your hands on me. How they would feel...what you would do with them.”

  The warmth in his blood deepen
ed to full-fired lust. He lifted a brow. “You want my hands on you, querida? It would be my pleasure. If you promise to submit to a fantasy of mine.”

  Her eyes widened. “Which is?”

  “You’ll find out in a few minutes,” he murmured, scooping her off the chair and heading for the bed.

  “Spanish,” she murmured as he set her down. “Is that your heritage?”

  Damn, he hadn’t even registered the slip. “Yes,” he lied, thankful the word was the same in Portuguese and Spanish. He might well go to hell for this. He truly might. But his intentions were good.

  Cecily watched him as he stripped off his shirt, eyes darkening to a deep slate blue. “You have an amazing body.”

  He threw the shirt on the floor, his fingers moving to the button of his jeans. “Strip shows are on your list of fantasies?”

  Her mouth curved. “If it’s you, yes.”

  He slipped the zipper down, her admission turning him hard as stone. Stuck his fingers in the sides of his jeans and dispensed with them in one quick movement. Kicking the denim aside, he straightened to find her eyes glued to his close-fitting white briefs. More than a bit aroused by the whole show, by the thought of having her, his erection was thick, straining against the fabric.

  “I might switch fantasies,” she murmured.

  “Oh, but that’s not how this game is played,” he drawled. “Lie down and roll over.”

  A flush touched her cheeks. Then she obeyed. He drank her in, testosterone sizzling every nerve ending. She had the most amazing backside he’d ever seen. Firm and curvaceous, toned by hours in the saddle, it was the best part of her by far.

  He swallowed past the lust clogging his throat. He intended to show that part of her anatomy his deepest idolatry.

  He knelt on the bed beside her. Placed a palm on the small of her back and settled her as he would a nervous filly. A shiver moved through her. Tracing his palm up over her back, then down over her bottom and legs, he absorbed every dip and curve of her beautiful body.

  Need gnawed at the edges of his self-control, goading him on. He straddled her. Set his mouth to the back of her neck and took a long, deep taste of her. She arched beneath him, a low moan leaving her throat. “That’s not hands.”

  He ran his tongue along the curve of her shoulder. “I made no promise about the exclusive use of hands.”

  Not a word in response.

  Down her body he went, his touch reverential as he explored every inch of her, kneading her silken flesh. Her whimpers, the way she came alive beneath his hands, fired his hunger. His erection thickening, growing with every low moan, he leashed himself with superhuman effort.

  Finally, he reached her amazing backside. The silk thong barely covered the twin smooth globes. Cupping her in his hands, he squeezed and shaped her. Absorbed the hitch in her breath when he slid his palms down to her satiny thighs and pushed them apart.

  “Colt—”

  “Shh.” Pressing a kiss to the small of her back, he slid his fingers underneath the sides of her flimsy panties and stripped them off.

  Her breath grew shallower, her muscles tensing. “Relax,” he whispered, stroking the inside of her thighs with a feather light touch. When she softened beneath his hands, he slid a pillow underneath her hips to raise her up. Spreading her thighs wider, he ran his knuckles along the soft, silky hair that covered her most intimate flesh. She shuddered, fingers grasping hold of the comforter.

  He parted her with gentle fingers. Stroked her hot flesh from bottom to top.

  She jerked beneath his hand. “Colt.”

  “Easy,” he whispered in her ear, ghosting his thumb over her. Again and again until she sighed, sank into it and pressed into his touch.

  She grew softer, moister beneath his hand. Coating his fingers with her slick arousal, he eased two inside her. Her mewl of pleasure pushed him close to the edge.

  He set his mouth to the hollow between her shoulder blades and pressed kisses to her skin while he worked his fingers in and out of her, keeping up a smooth, deep rhythm that had her climbing the rungs of a ladder he knew would lead to her release.

  “God, Colt, please—”

  Her body clamped tight around his fingers. Shifting lower, he spread her wide and put his mouth to her. Licked her with provocative, leisurely strokes while he worked her with his fingers.

  “More,” she begged.

  He closed his mouth over the swollen nub at the center of her and sucked. Devoured her.

  “You’re so sweet,” he rasped, drunk on the taste of her. “Come for me, angel.”

  She whimpered and lifted her hips. He drove his fingers hard inside her tight, hot warmth, his tongue nudging her core. She screamed, burying her face in the bedding, her earthy sounds of pleasure as her climax rode her the most arousing thing he’d ever heard.

  He didn’t stop until he’d made her come twice.

  * * *

  Her body racked with a series of aftershocks, Cecily stared up into Colt’s beautiful dark eyes as he flipped her over.

  Bracing a corded, insanely strong arm on the mattress beside her, he ran a finger down her cheek. “Live up to your expectations?”

  Words stuck in her throat. She couldn’t be droll in that moment. It had just been too...earthshattering.

  His thumb slid to her mouth. He exerted a sensual pressure on her bottom lip until she opened to his caress. “Want to know what my fantasy is?”

  Unsure she could take anymore, she forced herself to nod.

  “You riding me,” he murmured. “With all of that superior control and concentration of yours.”

  Her heart thudded in her chest. Dropping his hand from her mouth, he slid off the bed, stripped off his boxers and threw them on the floor. Her chest went tight. Full, heavy, so insanely masculine, just looking at him made her throb deep inside her core.

  “I might like to redirect this fantasy,” she murmured, eyes hot on him.

  He pulled his wallet out of his jeans and extracted a foil package. “No,” he said, coming back to her and tossing the condom on the bed. “You get yours,” he murmured, sinking his fingers into her hips and lifting her on top of him, “and I get mine.”

  Twining a thick, golden curl around his finger, he brought her mouth down to his for a hot, devastating kiss that wiped any alternate plans from her head.

  “You can put this on,” he murmured when they came up for air. Curling his fingers around the foil package, he handed it to her.

  “Oh.” She gave him an uncertain look. “I’m not so good at that. My ex-fiancé and I—we—I was on the pill.”

  He didn’t make fun of her. Didn’t look down on her as Davis had for being so inexperienced. “Let me show you then.”

  He ripped the package open and took the condom out. Rolling it part way up his heartstoppingly virile length, he paused, capturing her fingers in his. “Now you.”

  Carrying her fingers to his shaft, he closed his hand over hers. Eased the condom up his pulsing flesh. Her breath hitched as he jerked beneath her touch. It was the most erotic thing she’d ever experienced.

  “You’re beautiful,” she murmured, heart in her throat.

  “Not like you,” he said, shaking his head. A sensual promise lit his gaze. “Now get on me.”

  The stark, sexual command, the promise of oh, so much more pleasure, sent her pulse skyrocketing.

  Lifting up on her knees, she curled her fingers around his shaft and brought the lush wide crest to her center. Empty, aching, the desire he inspired in her almost frightening in its intensity, she lowered herself onto the thick column of flesh, a moan tearing itself from her throat as she absorbed the power of him.

  “Slowly,” he murmured, eyes hot on hers. “You were made to take a man, angel.”

  Her stomach fell apart.
Lost, immersed in a storm of her own making, sure nothing would ever compare to this moment, she had no choice but to surrender to it.

  Slowly, gradually, her body gave around his, making way for his possession. When he was finally buried to the hilt, when she’d taken all of him, he uttered a curse, the hard lines of his face a study in concentration.

  “Cecily,” he murmured, his voice a rough caress, “querida. I need you to move, before I lose my mind.”

  He was holding back. On the edge. She dug her teeth into her lip, a flash of heat careening through her. That she could turn him on this much, that he desired her this greatly, healed a part of her she hadn’t been sure would ever mend. It was a soul shaking moment she had to pause and fully absorb, bracing her palms on his rock-hard abs. For in that moment, they belonged to each other.

  “Cecily...” Hoarse. Desperate.

  She started to move, watching the pleasure explode in his eyes. The intimacy seemed too much, clawed at her to look away, but she couldn’t, wouldn’t, because if this was going to be her one night with Colt—she was going to remember every last second of it.

  Her body fully aroused, drowning in the pleasure he was giving her, she took him easily now, sliding up and down his staff. He impaled her, touched her deeper every time she came down on him. Another orgasm built, this one slow moving and slumberous, radiating out from her core.

  Colt tugged on her hand and pulled her forward. A palm at the small of her back, he arched her toward him and closed his mouth over a lace-covered nipple. She gasped, pushed herself deeper into his mouth. His cheeks hollowed out as he sucked her deep, sending more pleasure coiling in her abdomen.

  “That feels so good,” she moaned, moving faster on him now.

  He switched his attention to her other nipple, teeth rasping across the tip as he drove up inside her, pushing so deep he set off a soul-shaking burst of pleasure that tore her apart.

  Oh, dear God.

  He cleaved his fingers through her hair and brought her mouth down to his. “I want your beautiful lips on mine when I come, angel. Your body is so sweet, you blow my damn mind.”