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‘Raúl….’ She was embarrassed by his passion. She looked into his black eyes and knew he was making a point.
‘We are here for two days, darling. The plan is for us to fully enjoy them.’
His words were soft, the message not.
‘I’ll show you around now.’
A maid handed her her sunglasses and then Raúl showed her their abode for the next few days. The lounge that she had barely noticed last night was huge, littered with low sofas; another maid was plumping the cushions. There was a huge screen and, though nervous around him, Estelle did her best to be enthusiastic. ‘This will be lovely for watching a movie.’
Raúl swallowed and caught the maid’s eyes, and as Estelle went over to look at his DVD collection he quickly led her away.
‘Here is the gym.’ He opened a door and they stepped in. ‘Not that you’ll need it. I will ensure that you get plenty of exercise.’
Only there, with the door safely closed, did he let his true frustration slip out. He closed the door and gave her a glimpse of what was to come.
‘If you think we are going to be sitting around watching movies and holding hands—’
‘I know what I’m here for.’
‘Make sure that you do.’
Raúl had woken at lunchtime from his first decent sleep in days, from his first night without nightmares. For a moment he had glimpsed peace—but then she had stirred in his arms and he had looked down to a curtain of raven hair and felt the weight of her breast on his chest. The sheet had tumbled from them; he’d seen her soft pale stomach and the evidence of their coupling on her inner thigh.
He had gone to move the sheet to cover them, but the movement had disturbed her a little and he had lain still, willing her back to sleep, fighting the urge to roll over and kiss her awake, make love to her again. He had felt the heat from her palm on his stomach and had physically ached for that hand to move down. His erection had been uncomfortable.
He’d fought the bliss of the memories of last night as his hand had moved down—and then halted when he’d realised his own thought-processes.
Sex Raúl could manage—and often.
Making love—no.
Last night had been but one concession, and he reminded himself she had lied.
He had removed her hand from him then and spent a full ten minutes examining her face—from the freckles dusting her nose to the full lips that had deceived him.
He stood in the well-equipped gym and looked at them now. Absolutely he would make things clear.
‘We have several weeks of this,’ Raúl said. ‘I wanted a woman who could handle my life, who knew how to have fun.’ He did not mince words. ‘Who was good in bed.’
He watched her cheeks burn.
‘I’m sure I’ll soon learn. I’ll keep up my end of the deal—I don’t need hand-holding.’
‘There will be no holding hands.’ He took her hand and placed it exactly where it had been agreed it would visit regularly. ‘You knew what you were signing up for…’
He had to hold her back; he had to be at his poisonous worst. He could not simply dump her, as he usually did when a woman fell too hard. They had weeks of this and he could not risk her heart.
Instead he would put her to work.
‘Let’s have a spa.’
She saw the challenge in his eyes, knew that he was testing her, and smiled sweetly. ‘Let’s!’
She followed him up onto the deck, trying to ignore the fact that he had fully stripped off as she took off her espadrilles and dropped her sarong.
‘Take off your top.’
‘In a moment…’
He could sense rather than see that she was upset, and it made him furious. He was actually wishing his father dead, just so this might end.
‘Take off your top,’ he said again. Because if she thought she was here to discuss the passing scenery, or for them to get to know each other better, then she was about to find out she was wrong.
Estelle might have taken him for a fool.
He wasn’t one.
Her face was one burning blush as her shaking hands undid the clasp, and she sank beneath the water as she removed it and placed the bikini top on the edge.
‘Good morning!’ The skipper made his way over. Naked breasts were commonplace on the Costa Del Sol—and especially on Raúl Sanchez Fuante’s boat. He had no trouble at all looking Estelle in the eye as he greeted her. She, though, Raúl noted, was close to tears as she attempted to smile back.
‘We are heading towards Acantilados de Maro-Cerro Gordo,’ Alberto said, and then turned to Raúl. ‘Would you like us to stop there tonight? The chef is looking forward to preparing your dinner and he wondered if you would like us to set up for you to eat on the bay?’
‘We’ll eat on the boat,’ Raúl said. ‘We might take a couple of jet skis out a little later and take a walk.’
‘Of course,’ Alberto said, then turned to Estelle.
‘Do you have any preferences for dinner? Any food choices you would like the chef to know about?’
‘Anything.’
Raul heard her try to squeeze the word out through breathless lips.
‘It’s a beautiful bay we are stopping at.’ Albert happily chatted on. ‘It’s not far at all from the more built-up areas, but soon we will start to come into the most stunning virgin terrain.’
He wished them a pleasant afternoon and headed off.
‘I’ve already explored the virgin terrain…’ Raúl drawled, once he was out of earshot.
Estelle said nothing.
‘Here.’ Annoyed with himself for giving in, but hating her discomfort, he threw her the bikini top. ‘Put it on if you want.’
She really was shaken, Raúl thought with a stab of guilt as he watched her trembling hands trying to put the damp garment on. Going topless was nothing here—nothing at all—but then he remembered last night: her shaking, her asking him to be gentle. Pleas he had ignored.
He strode through the water and turned her around, helping her with the clasp of her bikini top. Then, and he didn’t know why, he pulled her into his arms and held her till she had stopped shaking—held her till the blush had seeped from her skin.
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