Taken the Spaniard's Virgin

by Lucy Monroe

  He grinned and then groaned as she shifted just enough to make his already aching erection swell further. He grabbed her hips and tilted upward, letting her feel the effect she had on him. “I want you to rock against me.”

  She gasped and sighed and closed her eyes for a second. “That would be touching you there. Not for another turn,” she said between breathy little gasps.

  “Fine, then I want you to touch my chest like you were doing when I woke earlier…before the casino,” he clarified, in case she didn’t remember in her aroused state.

  “I can do that.” She straightened, forcing their intimate flesh to more contact. “I think.”

  “Try.”

  She did, caressing him and kissing him and not even remembering to reset the watch. They were both panting when she finally lifted her head.

  He looked at her and tried to grasp the last thread of his thought process. “So, what do you want me to do?”

  “Make love to me.”

  “Not on the menu.” But he wanted to. Badly.

  She pouted and he had to kiss her again. Then he was pushing her back on the couch and disposing of her nightshirt so he could do what she’d said she fantasized about…. kiss her all over.

  Amber screamed as she climaxed from the incredible sensation of having her most intimate flesh invaded by Miguel’s tongue. He’d done this before, but this time he’d used his mouth to sensitize every centimeter of her body first. And she was a quivering mess. At least inside. Outside, she was sweaty, her hot skin radiating with spent pleasure.

  Miguel lifted her into his arms. “Time for bed now.”

  “What about you?”

  “I found my pleasure in giving you yours. Literally.” He laid her on the bed. “I’ll be back in a minute. I have to clean up.”

  “Oh, wow…”

  She was barely coherent when he returned to the bed to pull her into his arms and glad he didn’t expect her to bathe again, though she’d need a nice long shower in the morning.

  “Was wonderful,” she slurred.

  “Tomorrow, when I can be inside you will be even better.”

  “Might not survive it.”

  His rich chuckle was the last sound she heard as she slipped into sleep.

  The next morning, Amber woke alone. She wasn’t surprised because Miguel had woken her before leaving to tell her to get more rest and that he would be back later in the morning. She’d promptly gone back to sleep and just woken.

  The clock on the bedside table said it was just going on nine, which was hours later than she’d slept in for months. But considering how late they’d gotten back from the casino and what they’d done in the middle of the night, well…maybe she could be forgiven for sleeping in a little.

  She took her time showering and drying her hair, stopping at one point facing the mirror, wrapped in a towel. She let the towel drop to take her usual inventory, determine if she needed to work on any particular part of her body before the next job and ended up staring rather dazedly instead.

  Small marks on her breasts, stomach and thigh attested to Miguel’s oral attentions. Her nipples beaded immediately as memory of those attentions washed over her. Her breasts were no rounder than they had been the day before and yet somehow they seemed more prominent to her. When she looked at her waist and hips, she did not see artistic proportion, but curves meant to entice her lover.

  It had been a long time since she had looked in the mirror and seen anything but a tool for her trade. So long in fact, that she could not remember the last time. Now she was seeing a woman capable of giving and receiving immense sensual pleasure. A woman capable of love.

  Miguel returned a little before noon. He made good on his promise to squire Amber around Barcelona, taking her toParc Güell to see the incredible whimsy designed by Antoni Gaudi. The Snake Bench was incredible. Pictures she’d seen of the yards long, winding mosaic bench could not do it justice.

  “This is incredible,” she said with a sigh, enjoying the panoramic view from her perch on one of the interior curves of the bench.

  “Yes. Gaudi was a man with vision.”

  “Not everyone thinks so.”

  “Not everyone gets the Modernistic Style.”

  She smiled. “But we do.”

  “Yes, we share this in common.”

  They actually liked a lot of the same things and shared many of the same interests. Miguel had been able to answer numerous questions she’d had on Barcelona, its people and its history and had proven himself not only capable, but enthusiastic in doing so.

  “I don’t remember having so much fun with another person when traveling,” she said with a grin. Not the smile she used for the camera, but a happy expression that started deep in her chest. “Not even my mom.”

  “Your mother, for all her paragon list of virtues you’ve shared with me, is still a mother. I am, however, your lover and a native of this city that fascinates you so.”

  He proved the lover part again later that afternoon, turning siesta time once again into an exercise in discovering her latent sensuality. They spent several days seeing Barcelona and its surrounding area. On one occasion, they went to a nearby beach and he surprised her by arranging a hotel room right on the water.

  She loved it.

  They walked hand in hand on the pebbly beach near dusk. She missed watching the sun set over the water, but Miguel had promised to wake her to enjoy the sun rising over the sea the next morning. “I promise you, the colors are spectacular.”

  “I’m sure they are.”

  They were watching the sunrise the next morning when Miguel said, “You truly love the water, yes?”

  “Oh, yes. I don’t think I could ever live anywhere that wasn’t close to the ocean.”

  “Perhaps you are part mermaid.”

  She laughed. “Maybe.”

  “I have arranged a surprise for you, I hope you will like it.”

  “I’m sure I will.” Just the thought of him going to the trouble to surprise her made her feel cherished.

  They were standing at the rail on his yacht when it started moving before the final shoe dropped on her surprise.

  “We’re moving.”

  “Yes.”

  “For a day cruise?” she asked, anticipation shimmering through her.

  “You said you did not need to return to California for another nine days.”

  “We aren’t cruising for that whole time, are we?” she asked in an awed voice.

  For Miguel to take that kind of time off to spend alone with her was just…it was…totally phenomenal. She would never have expected it.

  “I will still have to take care of certain business matters, but I have cleared my schedule sufficiently to make the long cruise possible.”

  “Wow. It’s like a honeymoon.” Then she bit her lip and blushed at what she’d said. No matter how wonderful the last few days had been, she and Miguel still weren’t anywhere near a place they could talk about that kind of long-term future together. “Scratch that, I’d draw and quarter any husband of mine who worked intermittently on the honeymoon,” she said, laughing off her words with a joke.

  “Neither of us is in a place to think about that sort of thing,” he replied, his lips quirking.

  “By that sort of thing, you mean marriage…or honeymoons?”

  “Do they not usually go together?”

  “I would say so, yes.”

  “This…” He swept his hand out in an arc, encompassing the yacht and the now moving water beneath them. “Is an opportunity to make the most of our time together. No unintentional overtones, nothing but you and I enjoying one another and something beautifully unique.”

  “You’re right. I know you have to work, but can we leave our jobs and the rest of our lives on the shore?” It sounded so good, to spend an entire week not thinking about her career or focusing on business in any way. It would be a true vacation, of both the mind and the body.

  “I solemnly vow to dismiss my responsi
bilities from my mind except those short hours each day I have to dedicate to them.”

  “That works for me.” Out of sight…out of mind, or something like that.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ANDit did work. They cruised the open sea mostly, staying close enough to shore for some spectacular views, but also offering tons of privacy. There was a small crew on board that took care of everything, just as if they were staying in a luxury all inclusive hotel. But better.

  The yacht…the crew…the privacy…all added up to something very special. And he’d made it happen because their relationship was unique.

  Amber spent a lot of time smiling over the next week.

  They were cruising back toward port when Miguel came up to her standing at the rail. The warm sun beat against her skin while a gentle breeze kept her hair flying around her face.

  A strong arm wrapped around her waist. “We are close to home.”

  “How long until we reach port?”

  “A couple of hours, maybe less.”

  “Our idyll is over then?”

  “Yes, or close to it.” He kissed the top of her head. “We need to talk.”

  She turned into his arms. “Not yet. I don’t want to discuss the future yet. We’ve still got two hours before our special time is up.”

  The two hours stretched to the evening, when they decided to have dinner aboard the yacht and then afterward making love came all too naturally and they spent the night on the moored yacht as well.

  The next morning was rushed—Miguel had business that had been waiting for his return to port and Amber had to finish packing for her early afternoon flight. The plan was for Miguel to see her off at the airport, but he was called into a high level meeting and was unable to get away.

  Her cell phone chirped while she was waiting to board her flight. Half the plane had boarded already.

  “Hello?” she said into the phone, juggling her carryon and purse.

  “Amber, it is Miguel.”

  “I didn’t think you’d get to call before I had to leave.”

  “I snuck out of the meeting room with the excuse of needing a bio break.”

  She laughed. “Thank you.”

  “I miss you already.”

  “Me, too.”

  “We have not talked about the future yet. There is something I need to tell you.”

  They announced her row number for boarding. She turned away from the shuffling line of air passengers. “Yes?”

  “I leave for Prague in a week’s time.”

  “Wow.” She’d always wanted to go to Russia. “How long will you be gone?”

  “It is for a long-term project.”

  “I see.” She supposed that wasn’t so very different than him living in Spain. The flights to visit would be longer was all. The last call for boarding was announced. “I’ve got to go, Miguel.”

  He said something that sounded like a curse. “I was thinking about flying out to California next week.”

  Suddenly she felt as light as air. “I’d like that.”

  “I will see you then.”

  “Great.” She hung up, grinning, and sprinted for the boarding gate.

  Her mom was at the airport to pick Amber up. They talked about Miguel the whole way home.

  “Honey, I’m so glad to see you so happy.”

  “He’s wonderful, Mom. I don’t know how we’re going to work out our relationship long distance—especially since he’ll be in Prague for a while, but it’s worth the effort. I didn’t think you really could fall in love so fast, but I did.”

  “Did you tell him?”

  “No. I guess I’m a little afraid it’s not real and he hasn’t said anything.”

  Her mom nodded and gave her a conspiratorial wink. “Men often find it difficult to express their feelings verbally.”

  “Did Dad?”

  Helen’s expression softened with memories. “No. He moved too fast for me, in fact. He proposed on our second date, I didn’t agree for almost two months after. I was cautious.” Her face showed old grief. “If I’d known how little time we would have together, I would have dragged him before a minister on our first date.”

  “I thought about that…when I decided to risk, well…getting intimate with Miguel. It wasn’t a conscious thing, but I had this feeling that I had to seize the moment. We even made a joke about it, Miguel and I. My feeling must have come from a subconscious thinking how you lost Dad so early.”

  “I’m glad you took a risk, sweetheart.”

  “Me, too,” Amber said with a smile.

  She was even gladder when Miguel called later to make sure she’d arrived all right. It was the middle of the night for him—or rather early morning, but he made no effort to keep the conversation short. They talked about what he would be doing in Prague and the trunk show she’d returned to California for.

  They hung up when her mom came in to remind her that she had to be at the fitting for the trunk show very early the next morning. “You don’t want dark circles under your eyes when you meet with the designer, sweetie. He might take it into his head to put one of the other models in your place.”

  “You need your rest,querida, ” Miguel said, clearly having heard her mother. “I will call to let you know when I will be in California.”

  “All right,” she grumbled, annoyed for the first time in memory with the intrusion of having to do what was best for her career.

  She was exercising to clear her mind and stretch her limbs after the grueling fitting the next day when the doorbell rang. Her mom hadn’t said she’d been expecting anyone, but it could be a neighbor, or even one of her mom’s clients. Voices from the living room drew Amber’s attention and she decided to investigate.

  She stopped still in the doorway, trying to assimilate the scene before her. Her mom was sitting on the sofa with an attractive man about her age. He had his arm around her shoulders and she was crying.

  Amber had never seen Helen Taylor cry, much less allow a man to touch her. She was riveted to her spot by the tableau as her mother spoke in voice made choppy with tears. “I knew this day would come, but I kept hoping it wouldn’t. That wasn’t fair of me. I know. I’ve been so selfish.”

  The man gave her mom a look filled with his own grief mixed with compassion. “Tell me why you took my daughter.”

  Everything inside Amber froze. What was the man talking about and why wasn’t her mom telling him he was crazy?

  Her mom choked out, “I…” but got no further.

  Helen was ready to fly apart; Amber could see it in the way she held herself. She couldn’t let that happen. Her mom hated losing her cool, but especially in front of strangers. “Mom, what’s going on?”

  Movement to her left caught Amber’s gaze. Another woman similar to her own age was there. Amber’s heart slammed in her chest as she took in an almost perfect mirror image to herself. A tall, dark haired man stood behind the lookalike, his posture obviously protective.

  Eyes identical in color and shape to her own glistened with tears. “Amber…”

  “Who are you?” Amber asked, deeply bothered that the stranger seemed to know who she was while she was so completely at a loss, but she strived not to let it show.

  “I’m…” But like Amber’s mom, this woman didn’t seem to know what to say and stopped after only one word, too.

  “She’s your sister.” Her mom had said that.Her mom, who had no other children besides Amber.

  “My sister?” Amber shook her head, pain that she didn’t understand a band squeezing around her heart. “No. That’s not possible. You didn’t give birth to twins. I checked. I always felt like something was missing, you know?” She was babbling, but darn it…nothing made sense. “So, I checked and there wasn’t another birth record. I was the only baby born to Helen and Leonard Taylor.”

  The younger man said, “Miss Taylor, perhaps you should sit down.”

  “Who are you?” Amber demanded, stepping away from him, concentrating on keep
ing her game face on.

  “I am your sister’s fiancé, Sandor Christofides.”

  “The shipping tycoon?”

  “You read the financial pages?”

  “Sometimes. When I’m bored on a shoot.” Why was he asking something so mundane when her entire world was shattering around her? “And you’re George Wentworth,” she said to the man seated beside her mother.

  Who were these people? Okay, so she knew who they were, butwho were theyin relation to her? What were they doing here in her home, talking to her mother?

  The older man stood. “I’m…” He cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m George Wentworth.”

  Her mom sat up, wiped at her tears and then dried her hands on her jeans and put her arms out, like she had so many times when Amber needed comfort. Only, she didn’t need comforting right now…did she? “Come here, baby. I have to tell you something.”

  Unwilling to refuse her mom who was in obvious emotional distress, Amber walked slowly toward her. Mr. Wentworth stepped back, moving to sit in a chair close to the sofa. Amber let her mother pull her down to sit on the couch.

  The woman her mom had said was Amber’s sister held her head at the same angle as George Wentworth. Were they related?

  Amber met the woman’s gaze. “You look just like me.”

  “Almost.” A small deprecatory smile and shrug accompanied the word.

  Amber considered that. She, better than another, was prepared to catalog a list of superficial differences. “Your hair is darker. You don’t highlight it at all.”

  “No.”

  “It’s shorter, too.” A little anyway.

  “Yes. And my eyebrows have their natural shape and I weigh at least ten pounds more than you. I don’t dress as trendily and I’m not fond of running,” she said, naming Amber’s favorite form of exercise. “But I love old movies, we wear the same size shoe and I prefer silver over gold jewelry as well.”

  Amber’s mom made a sound of distress that echoed the chaotic feelings exploding inside her. But Amber had years experience projecting for the camera and she did not let any of her inner turmoil show on her face. She was strong enough to get through whatever this was and she had a feeling that her newfound happiness, her safe world was about to be blown apart…