Awakening the Ravensdale Heiress (The Ravensdale Scandals)
Page 9
The thought of exploring the spark between them was tempting.
More than tempting.
How long could he ignore the chemistry that swirled in the air when he was in the same room as her? But having a fling with her? How would he explain it to her brothers? It was a line he had sworn he would never cross. Not that he had ever discussed it with Julius or Jake. He hadn’t even thought of Miranda that way. He wasn’t sure when things had changed—when he had changed—but he had started to notice her quiet beauty. The way she moved. The way she spoke. The care and concern she expressed to those she loved. He had held back, kept his distance, not wanting to compromise his relationship with her brothers, or indeed with her.
And yet now he had kissed her. Touched her. Wanted her. How could he simply ignore the attraction he felt for her? Did he want to keep on ignoring it?
Could he ignore it?
Leandro gave a nonchalant shrug. ‘It’s time to move on.’
Her frown of disapproval deepened. ‘So she’s past her use-by date?’
‘It’s how it works these days.’
‘I know, but it sounds pretty clinical if you ask me,’ Miranda said. ‘What if she was secretly hoping for more?’
He reached across for a piece of carrot. ‘I make a point of never offering it in the first place.’
‘But what if you change your mind?’
He gave her a pointed look. ‘Like you might, do you mean?’
Her eyes fell away from his as she put the last touches to the salad. ‘I’m not going to change my mind.’
‘You sure about that, ma belle?’
Her small, neat chin came up. ‘Yes.’
Leandro gave her another slanted smile. ‘You’re a determined little thing, aren’t you?’
Miranda handed him the salad bowl. ‘You’d better believe it.’
CHAPTER SIX
MIRANDA HAD BEEN asleep for a couple of hours when she woke with a sudden start. Had she heard something? She lay there for a moment, wondering if she had been dreaming that plaintive cry. Her sleep had been somewhat restless. Her visit to Rosie’s room earlier that day, as well as seeing the mother with her baby and toddler, had made Miranda’s slumbering mind busy with nonsensical narratives. Had she imagined that pitiless cry? Was the villa haunted by Rosie’s ghost?
Miranda threw off the covers and padded to the door, listening with one ear for any further sound. Her heart was beating like a tattoo, the hairs on the back of her neck lifting as the old house creaked and groaned and resettled into the silence of the night.
It was impossible to go back to sleep. Even though in broad daylight she would swear she didn’t believe in anything paranormal, it was a tough call in the middle of the night with shadows and sounds she couldn’t account for. She pulled on a wrap, tied it about her waist and went out to the corridor. A shaft of pallid moonlight divided the passage. A branch of a tree scratched at the window nearest her, making her skeleton tingle inside the cage of her skin.
She tiptoed along the corridor but stopped when she got outside Leandro’s room. There was a thin band of light shining underneath the door, not bright enough to be the centre light, but more like that of a lamp. There was no sound from inside the room. No sound of a computer keyboard being tapped or the pages of a book being turned.
Just a thick cloak of silence.
‘Did you want something?’ Leandro said from behind her.
Miranda swung around with her heart hammering so loud she could hear it like a roaring in her ears. ‘Oh! I—I thought you were...someone else... I heard something. A cry. Did you hear it?’
‘It’s a cat.’
‘A c-cat?’
‘Yes, outside in the garden,’ he said. ‘There are a few strays around. I think my father must’ve been feeding them.’
Miranda rubbed her upper arms with her crossed-over hands. A cat. Of course it was a cat. How had she got herself so worked up? She didn’t even believe in ghosts and yet...and yet she had been so sure that cry had been a small child crying out. ‘Oh, right; well, then...’
Leandro looked at her keenly. ‘Are you okay?’
She forced a brief tight smile. ‘Of course.’
‘Sure?’
Miranda licked her dry lips. ‘I’d better get back to bed. Goodnight.’
He stalled her by placing a warm hand on her arm. She looked up into his shadowed face and felt her heart do another jerky somersault. She could smell the clean male scent of him, the wood and citrus blend and his own body heat that made her senses spin in dazed circles. His hair was ruffled, as if he had recently ploughed his fingers through it. It made her fingers ache to do the same, to feel those thick, silky strands against her fingertips.
His gaze was trained on her mouth. She felt the searing burn of it as if he had leaned down and pressed his sculptured lips to hers. Every nerve in her body was standing at attention, primed in anticipatory excitement.
‘I thought you might be coming to tell me you’ve changed your mind,’ he said.
She gave an involuntary swallow. ‘A-about what?’
His eyes gleamed in the darkness, the moon catching the light of desire that blazed there as surely as it did in hers. ‘About what you’ve been thinking from the moment I ran into you at that café in London.’
Miranda pulled a shutter down in her brain as she forced herself to hold his gaze. How could he possibly know what images her wayward mind kept conjuring up? How could he possibly sense the turmoil going on in her body? How could he know of the rampaging fire scorching through her veins at being this close to him? Or of the deep pulsating ache that was spreading through her thighs and pressing down between her legs? ‘I’m not thinking...that.’
His mouth took on a sardonic slant. ‘You’re a terrible liar.’
Miranda forgot to breathe as he upped her chin, stroking his thumb against the swell of her lower lip until her senses were reeling. The temptation of his tantalising touch, his alluring proximity and the needs she was desperately trying to control were like a tug of war inside her body. Every organ shifted and strained against the magnetic pull of his flesh but it was too much. It was too powerful to resist. She felt her resolve collapsing like a humpy in a hurricane.
She didn’t know who had closed that tiny space between their bodies but suddenly she was in his arms and his mouth was on hers in a passionate collision. The scrape of his stubble against her face made something slip sideways in her stomach. His deep, husky groan of pleasure as their tongues met and mated made her skin lift in delight.
Miranda couldn’t control her response to his kiss. It suddenly didn’t matter that she was supposed to be keeping her distance. Nothing mattered except tasting the warm, minty perfection of his mouth. Nothing mattered but feeling alive in his arms, feeling wanted, needed and desired. It was like a floodgate had opened up inside her. Her arms wound around his neck, her body pressed up close to the hot, hard heat of his as his lips moved with mind-blowing power on hers. She could feel the swell of his erection against her body, the exciting prospect of his potency triggering the release of intimate moisture within the secret cave of womanhood.
His tongue tangled with hers, teasing and cajoling it into seductive play with his. His arms were wrapped around her tightly, holding her as if he never wanted to let her go. Her flesh sang with the feel of him so aroused against her. It shocked her to realise how much she wanted him, how quickly it happened and how consuming it was to have the pulse of desire racing through her, skittling every sensible or rational objection out of the way.
Her mind was not in control now. Her body was on autopilot—hungry for the satiation of need. She hadn’t thought herself capable of such intense passion. Of such wanton abandon that she would be breathlessly locked in Leandro’s arms in a darkened corridor with her throat releasing little gasps and groans of encouragement as his mouth worked its breath-snatching magic on hers. How could one kiss do this to her? How could he have such sensual power over her?
How adult he felt.
She could feel the swollen ridge of him against her belly, a spine-melting reminder of all that was different between them and how much she wanted to experience those differences. The intention of his body was clear—he wanted her. Her body was sending the same message back.
Miranda sent her fingers through the thickness of his hair while her mouth stayed fused to his. One of his hands moved from her hip to settle in the small of her back, bringing her even closer to the thickened heat and throbbing pulse of his body. His blood pounded against her belly, ramping up her need until she was trembling with it. Had she ever felt such a thrill of the flesh? She had never been so aware of her body and how it reacted to the promise of fulfilment. It was like discovering a part of herself she hadn’t known existed. A secret, passionate part that wanted, craved, needed. Hungered.
His mouth moved from hers to blaze a trail of fire down the sensitive skin of her neck, the sexy rasp of his stubble making her insides turn over. His tongue found the scaffold of her collarbone, dipping in and out of the shallow dish it created on her flesh. The grazing sensation of his tongue against her smooth skin made her knees loosen until she wondered if she would melt into a pool at his feet. Never had she felt such tremors course through her body. Such shudders and quakes of need that made everything inside her shake loose from its foundations.
‘I want you,’ Leandro said, his lips moving against her skin like a teasing brushstroke. ‘But you’ve probably guessed that by now.’
Miranda shivered as his mouth came back up to just behind her ear. Every nerve danced as the tip of his tongue created sensual havoc. Where was her willpower? Where was her resolve? It was swamped, enveloped by a need that was clawing at her as his lips skated over her tingling flesh. How could she say no when every cell in her body was pleading for his possession?
Was this why she had hidden behind her commitment to Mark, because of the way Leandro made her feel? The way he had always made her feel? She had always been aware of him. Of his quiet strength. Of his heart-stopping attractiveness. Of his arrant maleness that made her female flesh shiver every time he came close.
How was she supposed to resist this assault on her senses? How was she to resist this urgent, primal call of her flesh?
‘We shouldn’t be doing this...’ Her voice came out as a whispery thread that was barely audible. I shouldn’t be doing this.
Leandro nudged her mouth with his lips, not touching down this time but close enough for their breaths to mingle. ‘But you want to,’ he said. ‘I can feel it in your body. You’re trembling with it.’
Miranda tried to still the tumult in her flesh but it was like trying to keep a paper boat steady in a hot tub. How could she deny it? How could she ignore the urgings of her flesh? Her whole body vibrated with clawing need. It moved through her body like a roaring tide. She could feel the pulse of lust low in her core—the hollow ache of need refused to be ignored. Her gaze went to his mouth, her belly doing a flip-turn as she thought of those warm, firm lips on her breasts, on her inner thighs. ‘I made a promise...’
He pulled back to look at her. ‘When you were a kid, Miranda,’ he said. ‘You’re a woman now. You can’t ignore those needs. They’re normal and healthy.’
Miranda had ignored those needs for so long but it hadn’t really been all that hard to do so. She had never felt she was sacrificing anything. But now Leandro had stirred those needs into life, awakened them from a deep slumber. Sent them into a dizzying frenzy. How could she pretend they weren’t clamouring inside her body? How could she deny the primal urges of her body when his presence evoked such a storm within her flesh? A storm she could feel rumbling through her from where his hands were holding her. Burning through her skin. Searing her so she would never be able to forget his touch. Her body would always remember. Her lips would always recall the weight and pressure of his. If she were never kissed by anyone again it would be Leandro’s kiss she would remember, not Mark’s. It would be Leandro’s touch her body would recall and ache and hunger to feel again.
Would it be so wrong to indulge her senses just this once? He wasn’t offering her a relationship. He had made it clear he didn’t want the happy-ever-after. But then, she couldn’t—wouldn’t—give it to him if he wanted it.
But for this brief moment in time they could connect in a way they had never connected before.
Miranda closed the small distance between their bodies, a shockwave of awareness jolting through her at the erotic contact. She watched as desire flared in his gaze, burning with an incendiary heat that was as powerful as the backdraught of a fire. She slid her hands up the flat plane of his chest, feeling the deep thud of his heart under her palm. She knew he wouldn’t take this a step further until she had verbalised her consent. But she didn’t want to say the words. She didn’t want to own the earthy needs of her body. That would be admitting she was at the mercy of her flesh. That she was weak, frail, human.
Leandro held her gaze with the force field of his. ‘Tell me you want me.’
Miranda drew his head back down, her mouth hovering within a breath of his. ‘Kiss me.’
‘Say it, Miranda,’ he commanded.
She stepped up on tiptoe so her lips touched his, trying to distract him, to disarm him. ‘Why are we talking when we could be doing other stuff?’
He gripped her by the upper arms in a firm but gentle hold. ‘I’m not doing the other stuff until I know it’s what you want. That we’re clear on where this is going.’
Miranda looked into his implacable gaze. Desire burned in his eyes; she could feel it scorching her through her skin where his hands were cupped around her flesh. ‘It doesn’t have to go anywhere,’ she said. ‘It can just be for now.’
His ever-present frown deepened a fraction. ‘And you’d be okay with that?’
She would have to be okay. How could she say she wanted more when for all these years she had told everyone she didn’t? She had taught herself not to want more. She had blocked all thoughts of a fairy-tale romance, of being married, of one day having a baby, of raising a family with the man she loved, because the man she had loved had died.
But this was a chance to live a little. To break free of the restraints she had set around herself. It didn’t have to go anywhere. It didn’t have to last. It couldn’t last.
It was for the moment.
Miranda traced her fingertip over the dark stubble surrounding his mouth, her insides quivering as she felt the graze of his flesh against the pad of her finger. ‘Neither of us wants anything permanent,’ she said. ‘This would be just something that...happened.’
‘So you only want it to happen here?’ he said. ‘While we’re in France?’
A French fling. A secret affair. A chance to play while no one was looking. No one need know. Her brothers, her parents, Mark’s parents—even Jaz—didn’t need to know. It would be over before it began. There wouldn’t be time for things to get complicated. No one was making any promises. No one was falling in love. This would change the dynamic of their relationship, certainly, but as long as they were both clear on the boundaries then why not indulge their attraction for each other?
‘That would be best, don’t you think?’ she said.
Leandro searched her gaze for a long moment. ‘You don’t want your brothers to know about us?’
Miranda bit down on her lip. ‘Not just them...’
‘Mark’s family?’
She let out a breath. ‘Look, if you’re having second thoughts—’
‘I’m not, but I’m wondering if you are,’ he said. ‘If not now, then later.’
Miranda saw the concern in his dark-as-night gaze. What was he worried about? That she would get all clingy and suddenly want more than he was prepared to give? She knew the rules. He had made them perfectly clear. She was okay wi
th it. Totally okay. More than okay. ‘I’m a big girl, Leandro. I can take responsibility for my decisions and actions.’
He brushed a strand of hair back off her face, his expression cast in serious lines. ‘I want you to know I didn’t ask you here to have an affair with me. The thought didn’t cross my mind.’
Miranda raised one of her brows. ‘Not even once?’
His mouth took on a rueful angle. ‘Well, maybe once or twice.’ His arms came around her to draw her close. ‘I’ve always kept my distance because I didn’t want to compromise my relationship with your family. It gets messy when things don’t work out. Look at Jake and Jasmine.’
Miranda traced his mouth with her fingertip again. ‘Did Jake ever tell you what happened that night?’
‘No,’ he said, kissing the tip of her finger. ‘What’s Jasmine’s version of events?’
‘She refuses to discuss it,’ Miranda said, suppressing a shiver as Leandro’s tongue curled around her finger as he drew it into his mouth. The sucking motion of his mouth made her inner core pull tight with lust.
‘Someone needs to lock them in a room together until they thrash it out,’ he said as he began to scorch a pathway of kisses up her neck. She shuddered as his tongue outlined the cartilage of her ear, longing coursing through her body in sweeping waves. ‘Speaking of being locked in a room together...’
He gathered her up in his arms and carried her inside his room. The lamp was already on, giving the room a muted glow. He set her on her feet but not before sliding her down the length of his body, leaving her in no doubt of his need. The feel of his erection against her made her desire for him escalate to a level she had never experienced before. A restless ache pulsed deep in her body, a hollow sensation that yearned to be filled. Her breasts became sensitive where they were pressed against the hard plane of his chest. She could feel the tight buds of her nipples abraded by the lace cups of her bra. She wanted to feel his hands on her naked flesh, his mouth, his lips and his masterful tongue.