One Night in Madrid: Spanish Billionaire, Innocent Wife / The Spaniard's Defiant Virgin / The Spanish Duke's Virgin Bride. Jennie Lucas

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СКАЧАТЬ the fabulous body that he was revealing, each discarded item exposing another part of the male beauty that was Raul Marcín. He was broad and strong, with straight, powerful shoulders and torso, his chest hazed with the black body hair she had glimpsed so faintly before. Exposed like this, it was darker than ever, curling and crisp, then arrowing down past his narrow waist to disappear into the waistband of his trousers.

      She might have thought that as she lay there, with no touch, no kiss to stoke the fires of need he had awoken, those fires might ebb, but the truth was that the opposite was happening. Every inch of tanned olive skin that was revealed made her pulse beat stronger, harder; her blood burn hotter. Now she felt she understood just why she had never been able to replace this man in her mind and in her heart. The truth was simply that there was no one else for her; no one who could match him against her personal blueprint for the perfect man. In the few short months that they had been together he had stamped his brand on her as surely as if she had been some long-ago slave, marked as her owner’s possession; his to do with as he would. And nothing had changed.

      When black boxer shorts were his only clothing he came back to her, bending over the bed to take her lips in a long, lingering kiss that sparked off once again all the sensations that had driven her to distraction before. Hungrily she reached up, fastening her hands around his broad shoulders, wanting to draw him down to her, but Raul stilled her with a touch, pressing her back against the pillows while he eased the small green slip of her underwear from her body. The next moment he had pressed his mouth to the smooth flesh his hands had exposed, kissing a trail of fire the length of her body.

      ‘Dios, but I need this.’

      Raul’s voice was raw, thickened by the hunger that she could feel tensing his body; the same hunger that was burning between her legs, making her shift restlessly on the bed.

      ‘Me too …’

      Perhaps if she soothed him, stroked him in the same way that he was touching her then he would relent and give her the satisfaction she craved. But when she smoothed her hands over his hot, bronzed skin it seemed to have the opposite effect of soothing. Instead she saw the feverish glitter of hunger in his eyes, the red slash of colour on those high carved cheekbones and heard his breathing coming rough and ragged as he fought for control.

      A control she didn’t want.

      And when his kisses caressed her breasts, moving over the soft curves until they found the pouting pink nipple, then she could hardly find the strength to bear it.

      ‘Raul—please—come to me …’

      Her fingers fumbling in their haste, she tugged at the black boxer shorts, hearing his harsh intake of breath as he helped her with them, shrugging himself out of his last item of clothing. And then at last he was right with her, his hot body heavy on top of her, his hair-roughened legs pushing hers apart, opening her to him.

      ‘Oh, yes … Yes …’ Alannah sighed her delight, holding him tight against her, parting her legs even more so that they were either side of his narrow hips, giving him access to the innermost core of her body.

      Knowing fingers stroked the exposed flesh, brushed the small, swollen centre of her desire, making her moan aloud and shiver in a response that almost took her over the edge. Almost, but not far enough. Once more her hands clutched at his wide shoulders, urging him closer, closer. And now at least she heard the breath hiss through his teeth as he abandoned all attempt at restraint and buried himself in her yearning body in one long, powerful thrust.

      ‘Alannah …’

      ‘Raul—yes …’

      Their voices clashed on the night air, echoing wildly in the silent, shadowed room.

      But even as the sound of her name died away she knew that something had changed. Something in her reaction, some tiny quiver in her voice at the sting of pain, some momentary tension that she couldn’t restrain, had given her away. Raul’s long body stilled, tautening sharply as he fought for control, and the dark head that had been thrown back in uncontrolled response now came forward again, golden eyes searching her face, looking for the answer to the question that clearly burned in his mind.

      ‘Still?’ he said and the single word encompassed a world of meaning, of disbelief, of shock. ‘Still so innocent? But how …?’

      She knew his eyes were on her, knew that that intently burning gaze was searching her face, looking for the answer he wanted, the answer she didn’t know how to give him—didn’t dare to give him. And so she kept her own eyes tight shut and used her hands to distract him, wanting to divert him from the realisation that she had still kept the virginity he had once prized so highly, stroking softly so that he writhed under her touch.

      ‘How doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter,’ she assured him, low-voiced and urgent.

      She didn’t want him to think of it, didn’t want it to make him hesitate, perhaps even—oh, dear heaven, no—perhaps even make him stop. He couldn’t stop now or she felt that her heart would burst with the need that was pounding through her untried body. She didn’t need experience, or knowledge, to sense that something very special, something spectacular was so very close, almost within reach.

      ‘Alannah …’ Raul muttered, thick and rough, but she shook her head in denial of his concern, her body moving restlessly under his, opening even further.

      ‘Nothing matters—but this—but now—but us …’

      And with a gentle touch, the deliberately provocative movements of her body that every feminine instinct taught her how to use, she fought to divert his thoughts on to other, more pleasurable paths. She knew she had succeeded when she heard his groan of surrender, felt the long body that covered her tense in a new and different way.

      ‘Yes,’ she whispered close against his ear. ‘Yes—please, Raul—please make me yours …’

      Beyond the windows, the day was cold and grey, the dark clouds threatening rain once again. But here, in their own confined and private little world, there was nothing but heat and hunger, the burn of desire and the delight of touch, of deep, sensual, wonderful movement. A heat that grew and grew, building higher and higher with each glorious movement, each kiss, each caress that took her further and further from reality and into the throes of sensation that closed over her like a tidal wave, swamping her. Abandoning herself completely, she surrendered to it, gave herself up to the wonder of it until she lost all sense of anything but the soaring, blinding, blazing yearning for completion.

      And suddenly she was no longer yearning but exploding, whirling and soaring high out of the world and into a delirium of pleasure that exploded in her mind, devastating it totally. Somewhere, a long, long way away, she heard Raul’s wild cry of delight as he followed her over the edge and their bodies clenched tightly together, frozen, suspended, clinging on to the last shuddering aftershocks of delight.

      Only when they had ebbed away did she sigh and let herself collapse back on the bed, her breathing raw and ragged, her chest heaving, her body replete, her mind numb. And Raul came with her, his long body sprawled over hers in total abandonment as he dragged in heavy, almost painful breaths in the struggle to regain some sort of control. His powerful frame was slicked with sweat, his head limp and heavy against her breast. She could feel his heartbeat still racing hard against his ribcage, in matching time to her own.

      It took a long time before his breathing finally slowed and with a long, contented sigh he rolled off her to lie on his back with one arm flung up across his eyes.

      ‘Dios,’ СКАЧАТЬ