When Da Silva Breaks the Rules. Эбби Грин

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СКАЧАТЬ trail his fingers across her jaw. Out of nowhere came a surge of something that felt almost like protectiveness.

      His hands curled around the edge of his desk beside his hips. He forced his mind back to the conversation. ‘I have a charity auction to attend in Salamanca next weekend. We can go to that.’ The devil inside him compelled him to continue. ‘And we’ll have to be convincing, Lexie.’

      Those big blue eyes narrowed. ‘Convincing?’

      Cesar smiled, the anticipation inside him tightening now. ‘Convincing...as lovers.’

      Lexie’s arms tightened, pushing those firm swells up even more. ‘Oh...well, yes. I mean, that’s obvious...but that’ll be easy enough... I mean...I’m an actress after all.’

      Suddenly the confident woman of only a few moments ago was not at all sure of herself. Cesar was more intrigued than he liked to admit. He shifted on the desk, crossing one ankle over the other, and noted how Lexie’s eyes dropped to his mid-section for a second before skittering away again.

      But then the suggestion that she’d have to act with Cesar hit home and made something hot and dark pierce him inside. He tensed. ‘So what happened earlier, Lexie? Were you just practising your acting skills on the nearest stable hand you could find?’

      She looked at him. ‘No. It wasn’t like that.’

      Cesar felt more exposed than he liked to. ‘So what was it like?’

      For a second he fancied that the turmoil he could see in those blue depths mirrored the part of him that still couldn’t make sense of what had happened. But the very suggestion that it had been in any way within her control and not his made something snap inside him.

      He straightened up and did what his hands had been itching to do ever since she’d walked into his study. He reached for her and pulled her into him, and something treacherous in his mind quietened as soon as those soft curves fell against him.

      Her hands were pressed against his chest and a soft oof escaped her mouth: a sigh of shock. She looked up. ‘What are you doing?’

      Cesar’s body was already hardening against hers. An automatic and helpless reaction to her proximity and touch. He hated this feeling of being out of control—it had been a long day of that very unwelcome sensation. He gritted out, ‘I’m seeing how good you are at improvisation.’

      And then he bent his head to hers, and her mouth was as firm and yet as soft as he remembered, and those lush contours sent his brain into a tailspin all over again.

      * * *

      Lexie was drowning. Her hands looked for purchase anywhere she could find it to try and cling on. Cesar’s mouth was searing and hot. Hard. His arms were welded tight around her. She was off-balance and plastered against him, breasts crushed against rock-hard contours. One of his hands moved up to her head, angling it. Their mouths were open, tongues touching and tasting. Stroking, sucking.

      Lexie wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and rub herself up and down his hard length, seeking to assuage the stinging in her nipples and the ache growing inside her. She could feel a hard ridge against her belly and it caused a spasm of damp desire between her legs.

      And then the haze lifted ever so slightly, when he took his mouth away for a moment and she remembered his grim look and what he’d said, ‘I’m seeing how good you are at improvisation.’

      As if a cold bucket of water had been thrown over her Lexie jerked backwards, almost stumbling in an effort to right herself. She was shaky all over, breathing heavily. Cesar was resting on the edge of the desk, barely a hair out of place, even if his cheeks were flushed and eyes were glittering brightly.

      Lexie wasn’t ready for this onslaught of physical sensations and feelings. Barely able to get her head around articulating much, she asked, a little redundantly, ‘What was that in aid of?’

      ‘Proving that it will be no hardship to act out being lovers. In fact it’s almost inevitable that we will become lovers.’

      Lexie rebelled at that arrogant tone even as her body betrayed her spectacularly. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Mr Da Silva.’

      He smiled. ‘It’s Cesar, please.’

      Lexie felt dizzy at how quickly this man was dismantling the bricks and mortar that had protected her for years. She couldn’t analyse it now, but she knew that he must have connected with her on some very deep level for her to have allowed him to kiss her—not once, but twice. Without even putting up a fight.

      Panic galvanised her and she reached down and picked up her bag, slung it over her shoulder. She forced herself to look at Cesar but it was hard. The air between them was saturated with electricity and tension and something else far more disturbing and new to Lexie: Desire.

      She hated to admit that she was also stung to think that he believed she was the kind of person who would just widen her eyes and say yes to such an autocratic announcement.

      She bit out, ‘I am not an easy lay, Cesar. Evidently you believe what you read in the papers, but I can assure you that I am perfectly capable of controlling myself. I am interested in putting forward a united front in order to get the press off our backs...that is all.’

      Cesar stared at her for a long moment and then shrugged. He folded his arms across that wide chest, making the muscles of his arms bunch against the silk of his shirt.

      ‘We’ll see,’ he said carelessly. As if he truly didn’t care if she tumbled into his bed one way or the other. As if he knew that she would be helpless to resist him when the time came.

      Curbing the urge to take her bag and swing it at his head, Lexie backed away to the door, her blood boiling—and not just from his words and that arrogance. She turned around and was reaching for the doorknob, relishing the prospect of removing herself from his orbit, when he called her name softly.

      With the utmost reluctance Lexie gritted her jaw and turned around, keeping her hand on the door. He was still sitting there, eyes hooded, watching her.

      ‘Don’t forget...next weekend...Salamanca. That’s if you still want us to proceed with your suggestion.’

      For a second Lexie contemplated the alternative and saw herself pacing up and down the dark castillo corridors or in the grounds. Trapped. With the press digging her life up again. Speculating. She went cold at that prospect. There was no choice.

      She managed to say icily, ‘I won’t forget.’ And then she pulled the door open and left, with her dignity feeling badly battered.

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