by Natasha Tate
As he kissed her, she felt his hand at the hem of her dress, bunching it tight as he shoved it up over her buttocks. And then his thumb hooked in the waistband of her underwear, tugging at the pale satin until it became clear that her position impeded further progress.
“Wait,” she breathed as she straightened her legs and reclaimed her feet. “I’ll just …” Wriggling between the door and Rafael and with one hand against his chest for balance, she pushed her underwear down her legs, kicked free of the knot of fabric and then returned to press against him.
His gaze trapped hers while second thoughts crested within their dark depths. “Soph—”
“Shh,” she repeated as she reached for his waistband and the hint of bare flesh that disappeared beneath black wool and pressed pleats. She fumbled with the button and zipper and white cotton that kept him from view until he jutted free, hot and hard against her palm.
He sucked in a hiss of breath and caught her hand with his, trapping her questing fingers between their bodies. “Stop,” he groaned. “We need to—”
“No.” She ignored him, twisting her wrist until she held his smooth, tight circumference within the circle of her fingers. “I’ve waited long enough already.” She squeezed delicately, only to let out a startled squeak when he lifted her off her feet again and pressed her up against the door. The movements brought their intimate flesh together and the plump, silky head of his erection bumped up against her slippery core.
Oh … A moan slipped from her throat, her slick flesh swollen and wanting and pulsing and … Oh … An erotic haze robbed her of all additional thought. Operating on pure instinct, she flexed her thighs, lifted her pelvis, and then slowly pressed down onto the hard, long length of him. This is what she’d waited for, what she’d wanted for so, so long. To share this elemental act with the one man she’d never stopped wanting. To feel him deep inside and to welcome him with an acceptance he’d never before allowed.
“Meu deus—” he gasped on a ragged exhale. “Soph—”
“Shh,” she breathed before she lifted back up, sliding higher and higher until she felt the threat of separation. Changing course, she lowered once again, staring into his eyes and holding her breath until she’d taken every tight inch of him within.
She began the slow slide back up before he stopped her retreat with a guttural exhale and a strong grip against her hips. With a groan, he altered the torturous rhythm she’d set and surged upward to touch her womb. He withdrew and then buried himself again, his hands shifting to her bare buttocks while his powerful body pressed her flush against the door. His breath beat between them, heaving in uneven gusts as he set a rhythmic advance and retreat within her breached flesh. Exulting in his surrender, in the pleasure she could read in his strained features, she tightened around him while ripples of bliss began to build.
Soon, her eyes drifted closed while tension climbed. Passion and pleasure bled together, blurring beneath her eyelids and sending tendrils of exquisite bliss along the surface of her skin. Over and over, he moved within her as she arched against him, opening, welcoming, wanting. She moved with his rhythm, faster, faster, until whimpers of need slipped from her throat and her fingernails dug into his shoulders. Her heartbeat pulsed wildly, reverberating noisily in her ears, her fingertips, her legs and arms and stomach and … everywhere. Quivering now, trembles wracked her limbs, shaking her as she fought for breath. For control.
And then rapture seized her, drawing a startled cry from her while wave after wave of ecstasy pulled her up into a white intensity of sensation. Pleasure blinded her as every muscle contracted, spasmed, tugged. The universe narrowed to the two of them, to the hardness she clenched deep within her and the strong arm supporting her trembling torso. She clutched at him, her head thrown back and her mouth gasping for breath while she rode the shudders to completion.
After a few moments, she drifted back to herself and became aware of him, of the tough, sleek muscles beneath her fingers and the fierce, ravenous eyes watching her from within his flushed face. Tenderly, she bent to kiss him, to offer wordless thanks. And then he was moving again. She wrapped herself around him, opening for him and taking all he had to give. Taking and taking and taking. She reveled in the low sounds he made, the building tension in his breath. And then a groan wrenched from deep, deep within his chest, buffeting her cheek and temple. He plunged into her a final time, his body going taut and hard beneath her splayed hands.
Long minutes of silence elapsed, both of them fused together and unwilling to return to what they’d been before. But then he slowly eased out of her, placing her on her feet before him. His black eyes studied hers, guarded and inscrutable, before he dropped his gaze and bent to lift his pants.
Unsure of how to navigate the aftermath of their lovemaking in the strained quiet, she dipped to follow suit. She stepped into her discarded underwear and slid them up over her hips. When she tried to restore order to her disheveled dress, her arms bent awkwardly as she attempted to unfasten the crumpled bodice’s pleated zipper.
“Let me,” he said in a gruff voice as he turned her to face the door.
Though she’d have thought it impossible for a man to help her dress without touching her, he somehow managed it. And when he was done, when his hands abandoned her and they continued to stand without facing each other, without words, she felt an awful, terrible urge to cry.
“Are you okay?” he finally asked.
She kept herself from sniffing—barely—and chirped, “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You know why.”
A strangled sob clutched her throat, but she swallowed it back. Hard. “I’m fine.” No matter how horribly vulnerable and bereft she might feel, she would hang on to her dignity if it killed her.
He tugged against her shoulder, his palm both implacable and warm as he turned her back to face him. “Soph.”
“What?” she asked, the brightness of her tone sounding brittle even to her own ears.
“I can’t imagine that this is what you had in mind when we came in here.”
“Do you hear me complaining?” she managed to say, when what she really wanted to say was that it had been wonderful. Wonderful and awful and confusing and the most intense pleasure of her entire life.
“It was hardly the seduction I’d have planned for you.”
“Because a quick, impulsive shag against a door isn’t your style?”
“Not with you, it isn’t.” Darkness claimed his features yet again. “You deserve better than this.”
“I wanted this,” she said, trying to sound cosmopolitan when she felt anything but. “You were doing me a favor.”
“A favor,” he repeated.
“Yes.”
He studied her in silence for a moment, and then bent to retrieve his jacket and shirt. “I take it you were prepared, then?” he said as he straightened and then threaded his arms through both.
She stared at him blankly, unsure what he meant by prepared.
“Protection,” he clarified, his hands making swift work of his shirt’s black buttons. He scanned her face and his fingers suddenly stilled. “Tell me you’re on some kind of birth control.”
She felt her face go white as understanding slammed into her. “Raf …”
“Maldição,” he muttered.
Feeling inexplicably gauche and embarrassed, she clutched knotted hands to her chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think—”
“That makes two of us,” he interrupted.
“But if I’d thought—”
“What’s done is done.” His unreadable gaze granted her no clue as to his thoughts. “We’ll deal with the consequences if and when they arrive.”
It suddenly felt impossible to breathe.
Rafael straightened his cuffs and adjusted his bow tie, returning once again to the remote, beautiful man she ached to call her own. “Do you have everything?”
Unable to process his question, she simply stared at his chest while the possib
le implications of their impulsive lovemaking claimed all of her attention. She was smarter than this! She was a modern woman, wasn’t she? She’d had sex before, and she’d never forgotten protection. Ever. How could she have been so careless, with Rafael of all people?
“Soph?”
She lifted her eyes to his, her hands lowering to press against her trembling stomach as she frantically counted back two weeks. How could he be so calm when their future, a possible baby and an additional Turino burden hovered so unpredictably on the horizon?
Silence stretched for what felt like an eternity before he finally said, “Wait here. I’m going to go make your excuses at the party.”
Her lungs cramped at the thought of facing all those people and feigning a poise she was light-years from feeling. But if he could behave as if episodes of passionate, unprotected sex in the middle of a hotel kitchen’s office were an everyday occurrence, she certainly could as well. “No.”
“You’re in no shape to go back out there.”
“I’m the hostess,” she protested as she firmed her chin and forced the quaking from her limbs. “I can’t just disappear in the middle of the reception. It’d be bad form.”
“You can and you will.” His black eyes scanned her tipped face and the tense lines of her shoulders and arms. “I’ll tell them you’re ill.” He paused, a nearly imperceptible flexing of his jaw the only clue to his thoughts. “And it won’t be a lie.”
Sophia bit her lips and realized he was right. There was no way she could fake it. Not after what they’d done. Not after what she had done.
He stared at her for another endless moment, unlocked the door and then slowly opened it. “Don’t go anywhere until I come back.”
CHAPTER TEN
ONCE he was gone and the door was closed between them, Sophia sucked in several quick breaths in an effort to stem the tide of self-recrimination that washed over her. Rafael had always accused her of being impulsive and rash, of making decisions without regard for the consequences. Tonight proved he was right. One kiss from him, and she’d lost all semblance of control, every last shred of judgment.
Shaking, she smoothed her palms over her gold dress and then opened the door. She peered down the white hall to confirm that no one was present to witness her escape before she scuttled toward the kitchen exit and its adjacent elevator.
By the time she entered her suite, an elegant combination of tall windows, black lacquer furniture and billowing lavender and white cotton, she’d already fashioned a plan to leave, to change her name and simply disappear. If she ended up being pregnant, she’d raise the baby on her own. She’d never force Rafael to assume the repercussions of her reckless choice; she’d never bring another unwanted burden into his life. He’d try to track her down, of course, but only because of the promise he’d made to her father. After a few weeks of not finding her, he’d be relieved. He’d be grateful she was gone.
She went to collect her toiletries, shoving them into her bag with shaking hands, and then returned to her room. Before she had a chance to open her suitcase, a rap at the door sent her heart into a wild, clubbing beat. She twisted to stare at the tall door, frozen in place and trying to convince herself that she’d imagined the sound.
The rapping escalated to a pounding demand for entry. “Sophia?”
“Go away,” she mouthed, though no sound came from her tight throat. “Open the door.”
She placed her toiletry bag atop her suitcase and then inched toward the door on wooden legs, feeling as if she were approaching her own execution. The door handle rattled, and she flinched.
“Damn it, Soph. Let me in.”
Her hand trembled as she reached for the handle and pulled it down. She cracked open the door to reveal the man who’d never want her the way she wanted him. “Go away,” she told him.
He looked as beautiful as he’d ever looked, his hair rumpled and his black brows lowered into a forbidding line. “I told you to wait for me.”
That’s all I’ve ever done.
Rafael pressed his way inside. “We weren’t done back there,” he said as he backed her into the room and then kicked the door closed with his foot.
Her shoulder tingled where his warm fingers gripped her, and she resisted the urge to close her eyes. To lean into him and beg him to ease her worries. To love her. “We were. There’s nothing more to talk about.”
His gaze flicked to her mouth, then returned. “I told you that wasn’t the seduction I’d have planned for you.”
She forced a laugh. Rather than being the dismissive trill she’d wanted, it came out nervous and thin. “Is that supposed to make me think you’ve planned something different?”
“Yes.”
The breath froze in her lungs as she stared at him, trying to read the meaning behind that one cryptic word.
“I want you,” he said as he stepped closer, his free hand lifting to the back of her neck. “And before this night is over, I’m going to seduce you the way a woman like you should be seduced. Properly. In a bed. Without that damn dress and without any second thoughts or protests coming between us.”
The thought of his warm, naked skin pressed against hers made her stomach flood with warmth. “You’re going to seduce me?”
His eyes refused to release hers. “For one night, we’re going to forget all the reasons this shouldn’t have happened and simply enjoy the way we make each other feel.”
“Because the damage has already been done?”
“Exactly.”
She debated while second and third and fourth thoughts crowded in on top of one another, a cacophony of desperate yeses. One night. One night of blinding pleasure that only Rafael could provide. She knew she’d regret it, but would she regret it more than what they’d already done? Would the pain of his rejection be any worse? “What happens in the morning?” she asked, not wanting to hear the answer, but needing to know anyway.
“We go back to the way things were. We redraw the lines that should have never been crossed.”
“What if I don’t like the lines you draw?”
Rather than answer her, he simply tipped her chin, kissed her softly and then withdrew enough to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. The gentle, glancing touch of his fingertips along the curve of her ear sent a shiver along her skin. “Let’s not talk about lines tonight.”
If she were stronger, she’d have mustered the will to refuse him, to protect herself before she lost her heart to him all over again. But she supposed she’d never reclaimed it, had she? He’d had it all along, and she’d been aimlessly coasting ever since. So why not savor a night of passion before reality reared its ugly head again? Why not steal what little time he was offering before it vanished altogether? Morning would come regardless, no matter which choice she made. “Okay.”
He reached for her hand and slowly led her toward the bed. When they reached the tall, wide mattress, he turned her away from him and began to unzip her corseted bodice. She could see their reflection in the inky black glass of the windows, and she watched as he gently unfurled her bodice and allowed the dress to drop over her hips. She hadn’t worn a bra beneath the boned fabric, so when the gold dress crumpled around her ankles, she was left clad only in her heels and white satin underwear.
When her hands rose to cover herself, his fingers stalled her efforts. “Don’t,” he murmured against her hair. “I want to see you.” For a long moment, they simply stood that way, their reflected gazes locked in the window overlooking the city. Despite the flush of self-consciousness that turned her skin pink, she forced herself to relax. To give him everything he asked of her and more.
His hands slid from her lax wrists to her hips and then tugged her backward against him. The hard length of his arousal bumped up against her buttocks and he dropped his mouth to the shell of her ear. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, “pink and white and perfect, just like I always knew you would be.” One big brown hand moved to splay low against her abdomen while the other
rose to cup her breast. Adrift in sensation, her head listed to the side and her eyelids slid closed. Taking advantage of her offering, he leaned to kiss her earlobe and the tender side of her neck. His warm fingers brushed delicately over her nipple while his other hand trailed lower, exploring the inch of skin just above her satin panties. When a single finger dipped beneath the band of elastic, a small whimper escaped her throat.
“I want to remember this,” he said as additional fingers joined the first to trail over the intimate curls below.
Her hips jerked, lifting toward his hand, and she felt his smile against her neck.
“Every stolen minute.” He stroked lower, deeper, his touch skimming over and around and tantalizingly close to where she wanted it most. When she thought she could bear it no longer, he tenderly nudged one finger just inside and pressed his thumb against the aching bud of need. The combination of heat and thrill, as unexpected as it was new, wrenched a stunned gasp from her.
He immediately stilled, his breath warm against her cheek. “Are you okay?”
Biting her lip and too embarrassed by her own naiveté to look at anything but the neat white comforter, she nodded. Going so slowly, with him fully dressed and their reflections giving her an unfettered view of everything he chose to do, she felt as unsophisticated and clumsy as she’d felt the first time they’d kissed. It was as if she’d never been with a man before and she supposed, in a way, she hadn’t. She’d never allowed herself to lower her guard and actually be with a man who’d claimed her very soul.
“You sure?” he asked, his voice heavy with concern. “We can stop if you want.”
“No. Don’t stop,” she blurted as she twisted to face his chest. “But I want your clothes off, too.” She lifted her hands to his tuxedo shirt and made swift work of its jet studs. “I don’t want to be the only one naked,” she said as she tugged his shirt free of his pants and then spread it open. The breath caught in her throat when her efforts revealed the muscular expanse of bone and muscle, with its light dusting of black, black hair. After a moment, she remembered that this was real, that she could touch all that warm, bronzed flesh without him calling a halt to her exploration. Greedy and curious now, she ran her palms up the muscled ladder of rib and then over his chest, her fingers combing through his hair and brushing tentatively over the flat brown nipples.