“I need you, too,” she admitted softly. She reached for the hem of his shirt, pushing the material up his torso.
“No,” he said, taking her hands in his. “We’ll do this right.”
And in the next instant, he swooped her up into his arms. She wound her arms around his neck and as he headed upstairs, she pressed her lips to his, kissing him until they reached the threshold to his room.
“Here we are,” he said, his voice reverent, as if the next step he took would be monumental. He carried her over the threshold with great ceremony and smiled at her. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you.”
“You have me,” she said softly.
“God. I cannot wait much longer, but I will not rush with you.” He lowered her down onto the bed. The mattress cushioned her body and then his hands were there, removing her sweater and unbuttoning her blouse, spreading it out so he could see her breasts. “You are beautiful,” he said, planting both hands on the mattress beside her head, trapping her. She may never want to escape. His kiss was rough and hungry, and when she looked up, the sharp lines of his face tightened, a passionate preamble of what was to come. Her skin prickled in anticipation.
His fingertips grazed over her breasts lightly, hovering, teasing the sensitive tips. Hot liquid warmth pooled between her thighs. Then he wound his hands behind her back and she lifted herself up enough for him to unfasten her bra. With his help, she shrugged out of it and then lay back down.
“Fair is fair,” he said, rising to grab the hem of his shirt. He pulled it up and over his head. Her mouth gaped open and she took a hard swallow, gazing at the tempting sculpted bronze chest.
“That is totally unfair,” she whispered.
A smile spread across his face as he bent on his knees to remove her boots, her belt and then slowly, achingly moved the zipper of her pants down. Cool air hit her thighs, but she was too swamped already, too raggedly consumed by heat for that to have any lasting effect. He tugged at one pant leg and then the other, until she was free of them. All that was left on her body was a pair of teeny hot pink panties. “I like your style, Princess,” he murmured, sliding up her thighs to hook the hem with his fingers.
“I like yours.” She gulped.
He smiled again and dragged her panties down her legs.
Then the mattress dipped as he lowered down next to her. Immediately, his scent wafted to her nose: fresh soap and a hint of lime. She squeezed her eyes closed, breathing him in. He cupped her head and kissed her lips, her chin, her throat. “Let me explore you, Portia,” he whispered.
She nodded. “If I can explore you.”
“Be my guest,” he said, his tone once again reverent. He fell back against the bed.
She rose up part of the way to lay a hand on his chest. Heat sizzled under her palm as she slid her fingers over tight skin and muscle. His chest was a work of art and as she continued to explore, he took sharp gasps of breath. Empowered now, she moved more confidently, her fingers flat over his nipples, weaving them through tiny chest hairs and reaching his broad shoulders. She nibbled on him there, nipping his hot skin and breathing the scent of raw sex emanating from his pores. “You are amazing, Juan Carlos,” she said. And suddenly she was eager for him to explore her, to touch her in ways she’d secretly dreamed about. “Your turn.”
She lay back on the bed and he rose over her to take a leisurely tour of her naked body, his eyes a beacon of light flowing over every inch of her. Then his hands began to trace the contours of her body, caressing her curves and moving effortlessly over her skin. He was thorough, leaving no part of her untouched. Goose bumps rose on her arms and legs, his precision and utmost sensitivity leaving her trembling in his wake.
Next, he covered her trembling body with his, wrapping her in his heat and claiming her with his presence. She bore his weight and peered up at him. He was amazing, so handsome, so incredibly virile. His hands cushioned her breasts, massaging them until the peaks were two sensitive tips. The pads of his thumbs flicked at them gently, and something powerful began to build and throb below her waist.
She had not been with a man in a long time. It felt so good. So right. Being with him.
He pressed her a little harder and she cried out. “Juan Carlos.”
It seemed to satisfy him. He took her in an earth-shattering kiss, pressing her mouth open and sweeping into her. She moved under him, arching her hips, that feeling below her waist becoming stronger and stronger the longer the kiss went on.
His hand was moving again, leaving her full breasts and moving down her torso, past her navel and below her waist, where she ached and ached for him. “Trust me,” he said.
All she could do was nod.
And his hands and mouth worked magic on her, shredding her into tiny pieces, squeezing tortured moans from her lips and making her squirm until she finally reached a fantastic, bone-melting orgasm.
“Juan Carlos,” she breathed, lifting her head to find his eyes on her as he unbuckled his belt. He shucked out of his clothes quickly and sheathed himself, in all his naked glory, with a condom.
He touched her where she was most sensitive, lending her comfort and warmth in the aftermath of her pulsing release. She relaxed and eased back slowly, as another fire began to build. “I’ve waited for you all of my life, Portia. And now, you’re mine.”
She was ready for him when he entered her, wanting him this way, taking his weight and watching a fiery veil of passion burn in his eyes. He began to rock back and forth, each thrust a love note, a daring caress and sugary candy for her hungry body. “You are all I will ever need,” he murmured.
She smiled as he pressed farther and farther inside her body. She was his. He was all she would ever need and as she met his driving rhythm, arching up and down, her breaths heavy, her body primed, she found solace and peace in his arms and lust and desire in his bed.
* * *
Juan Carlos drew a deep breath into his lungs. He’d often dreamed of waking up next to Portia, and now his very fantasy had come true. He turned his head and watched her chest rise and fall slowly. Her hair fanned across the pillow. He ached to touch it and sift the strands through his fingers. He wanted to kiss her awake and then make love to her again. But the sun had barely risen and the day would prove a long one. She needed her sleep. He’d worn her out last night. He shook his head at the thoughts running through his mind. He couldn’t touch her again this morning and have her think he was lecherous, waking her with only one thing on his mind.
He smiled. He would come to her again sometime today. It would be hard to keep to the task at hand, but they were on a mission. Though a wicked part of him wanted to play hooky today. Why couldn’t they just stay in bed all day? The States had snow days. Why couldn’t he declare a Royal Day?
A little noise pressed through her lips, a moan that he’d come to know. Last night, she’d moaned plenty and turned his world on end.
She shifted toward him and one hand—warm, delicate and soft—flopped onto his cheek. He moved his head enough to press his lips there and kiss her.
“Hi,” she said, smiling, though her eyes were still closed.
“Good morning, sweetheart.”
“Is it time to get up?”
“You can stay in bed as long as you’d like.”
“With you?”
“Yes, only with me.”
Her eyes opened and he gazed into their sleep-hooded amazing blue depths. He could fall into those eyes and never want to return.
“Juan Carlos,” she said, “last night was...”
“I know.”
“I didn’t know it could be that good.”
He leaned in and kissed her tenderly. “I’m humbled to hear you say that.”
“Humbled? Not over-the-moon, cocky and feeling proud of yourself?”
&n
bsp; He chuckled. “Maybe that, too.”
“I had...uh, you know. Three times. That’s never happened before.”
“Keep telling me things like that and we’ll never get out of this bed.”
She grinned and reached over to move a tendril of hair off his forehead, her delicate fingertips sliding down his cheek. He loved it when she touched him. “You know, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”
He caught her wrist and kissed her pulse point. “We can make that happen, sweetheart.”
“If only,” she said, sighing, her head falling back against the pillow. “But we need to finish what we started.”
She would be leaving soon. She didn’t have to say the words. He had only a few more days with her, before she would head back to the States. How quickly reality reared its ugly head. “We will finish it, one way or another.”
“I hope we find something today,” she said.
“We’ll give it a good shot.”
“I should get dressed. I’m anxious to see how our little family is doing.”
She meant the cats. Juan Carlos had almost forgotten about them. “Right. Let’s go check on them together.”
She rose from the bed and turned away. As she fitted her arms through the sleeves of his shirt, he glimpsed her lush blond hair falling down her back, the creamy texture of her skin, her rounded backside and the coltlike legs that had wrapped around him last night.
He sighed, enjoying the view and ignoring his body’s immediate reaction to her. He threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Hand in hand, they strolled out of the bedroom and into the living area.
“Shhh,” she said, spying the cat nursing her kittens outside the cage on a loop rug in front of the fireplace. “We don’t want to startle her.”
Duchess was resting with her head down, her eyes closed, allowing her five offspring to take their morning meal. Juan Carlos was moved by the sweet look on Portia’s face as she silently watched mama and babies. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and drew her closer, kissing the top of her head. How could he ever let this woman go? The answer was simple: he couldn’t. It wouldn’t be easy but he would convince her to stay. And marry him.
* * *
“Do you think Duchess will eat eggs?” she asked Juan Carlos as she scrambled four eggs in a cast-iron skillet. Morning sunshine brightened the kitchen, filling it with warmth. Bacon sizzled on the griddle and toast was cooking under the broiler. “I’ll put a little cheese on them.”
“You can try,” he said, pouring two mugs of coffee. “She’ll eat when she gets hungry enough. I’ll send Eduardo out this morning for cat food.”
She’d managed to get fresh water over to the cat without her running for cover. Duchess was still wary, but the kittens slowed her down or else she probably would’ve bolted when Portia set the bowl down. In time, Duchess would come to trust her. Sadly, she wouldn’t be around long enough to see it.
She had work waiting for her in Los Angeles.
It was for the best that she leave Alma. She couldn’t fall in love with Juan Carlos. He didn’t fit into her plans for a quiet, unassuming life. Yet spending time with him had been magnificent.
He came up behind her, kissed the side of her throat and ran a hand up her thigh. She tensed in all the good places. He’d asked her not to dress yet, and now she knew why. She was only wearing his shirt, which gave him easy access to her body. Not that she minded. Heavens, no. She loved him touching her. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “Coffee’s ready and on the table.”
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Don’t be so nosy. I’ll be back before you know it.”
She smiled and turned, and his arms automatically wound around her. “See that you are. Breakfast is almost ready.”
“Bossy, Princess,” he said, staring at her mouth.
Her heart skipped a beat and a moment passed between them before he kissed the tip of her nose.
She shrugged a shoulder. “Kings.”
He laughed and exited the back door.
Juan Carlos may have originally been a reluctant king, but there was no doubt in her mind that he was good for Alma and that he would put the country’s welfare above all else. As it should be. Alma had been through tough times under a ruthless dictatorship. The country needed a strong man.
So do you.
No, she couldn’t go there. The map was already drawn up for both of them, and after this little interlude, their paths wouldn’t cross again.
After she set the table, Juan Carlos returned holding a bouquet of tall azure flowers. “For you,” he said, handing her all but one stem. “Scilla hispanica.”
“They’re beautiful.” She lifted them to her nose. “Are these from the garden?”
He nodded. “Spanish bluebells. They’re almost a perfect match to your eyes, sweetheart.” He pinched off the end of the one he still held and fitted it behind her right ear. “There. Now you’re perfect.”
“Hardly,” she said.
“I think so.”
“You think I’m bossy.”
“Dressed like that, cooking my breakfast and wearing flowers in your hair? I can deal with a little bossiness.”
She shook her head. “You’re wicked.” And so very thoughtful.
“So I’m told.”
He took the flowers from her hands, snapped off the tips of the stems and arranged the bouquet in an old thick green glass bottle. After he filled it with water, he placed it on the table. “Have a seat, Princess,” he said, pulling out a chair. “I’ll serve you.”
She had a protest on her lips, but Juan Carlos’s expression wouldn’t allow arguing. “Yes, Your Highness.”
He smiled. “Good. I’m glad you know who the real boss is around here.”
Portia’s heart swelled. And as they sat down and ate, easy conversation flowed between them. Juan Carlos touched her hand often, as if needing the connection. She leaned over to brush hair from his forehead and he’d steal a kiss or two. They were in sync with each other; nothing had ever been as perfect as it was now, with the two of them doing ordinary everyday things, like cooking breakfast, sharing a meal and worrying over the cat family.
“So what will happen to Duchess and her babies when we have to leave here?” she asked.
“She’ll become the official palace cat, of course.”
“And the kittens?”
“We’ll find them good homes, Portia. Don’t worry.”
Her eye twitched. “I know you’re doing this for me.” She covered his hand with hers. “Thank you.”
The feelings between them were getting too heavy, too fast. She had no way of stopping it, short of leaving him right here and now. But she couldn’t do that. Not only did she not want to, but she’d promised to spend a few days here helping with the search, and with the exception of a snake decapitation, she was having a wonderful time.
“You’re welcome. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to speak with Luis about a few matters.”
Juan Carlos rose and began clearing the dishes. What a guy. She bounded up quickly and took the plates from his hands. “I’ll take care of that,” she said with enough authority to keep prison inmates in line.
“Okay,” he said. “Thanks.”
He bent his head and took her in a long amazing kiss. When their lips parted and he was through, her head spun. “That was...promising.”
He grinned, shaking his head at her understatement. “Get ready. We’ll be leaving in a little while. Unless you’ve changed your mind and want to play hooky today.”
He was reaching inside her shirt. She slapped his hand away and pointed. “Go.”
He went.
And Portia cleared the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. She checked on Duchess and her brood; they were all
sleeping. What a pretty serene picture they made, a mass of calico colors and balls of fluff all nestled together. She was grateful they’d have a home after they left the farmhouse. Her heart had never been so full.
Thirty minutes later, Portia climbed into the passenger side of the Jeep and Juan Carlos got behind the wheel. They said goodbye to Luis, though that didn’t mean anything. He was sure to follow. Eduardo had gone into the local town on a cat food mission.
“All set?” Juan Carlos said, gunning the motor. “Strapped in?”
She nodded. The weather was glorious, the temperature in the mid-seventies with clear blue skies. She wore a lightweight white jacket that billowed in the breeze as Juan Carlos drove off and picked up speed.
“We’re going out about five miles,” he shouted over the engine’s roar.
She sat back and relaxed, enjoying the scenery, excitement stirring her bones. Maybe today they’d find the art treasures.
For four hours they traveled at a snail’s pace over lush lands, where wildflowers and lantana grew in abundance, the vista opening up to a prairie as they scoured the grounds looking for possible hiding places. They came upon another shack but after a thorough inspection, with Juan Carlos insisting on going inside first, they found absolutely nothing. Not even a snake.
“We have a little more land to cover before we head back,” Juan Carlos said, and she heard the disappointment in his voice. She, too, was disappointed.
“Let’s stop for lunch by that little lake we passed a few minutes ago.” Maybe regrouping would give them a fresh perspective.
“It wasn’t much of a lake,” Juan Carlos said. “More like an oversize pond.”
She entwined their fingers. “But it’s pretty there and I’m getting hungry.”
He smiled and gave her hand a squeeze. That was all it took for her heart to do a little flip. “Okay, we’ll have a picnic.” And he maneuvered the Jeep around, heading for the lake.
Warm breezes ruffled her hair and sweat beaded her forehead as the sun climbed high overhead. She loved being outdoors. Much of her time in the States was spent indoors at art exhibits, galleries or simply poring over books and surfing the internet. She took a full breath of Alma air and vowed not to let disappointment ruin their day.
A Royal Temptation Page 9