Chapter Thirteen
Joaquin had gone back to the office after her scan, dropping Siobhan at the spa so she could have her hair done for the LVG Christmas party tonight.
After an afternoon of pampering that included a nap on the massage table, she arrived home to find him asleep on the bed, ankles crossed, arms folded, still dressed in his shirt and trousers from the office.
She softened her step as she crossed to the closet, not wanting to wake him when neither of them had been sleeping well since she’d moved in, but he’d shown her such concern, she’d melted every time.
More tender feelings had accosted her today when he’d revealed so much of himself. He’d pulled her heart from her chest as she recognized how much loss he’d suffered and how very hard it was for him to open himself as a result. It made her want to show him it was safe to let down his guard.
Even though letting her own guard down meant risking her heart even further.
“Siobhan?” He cleared the gruffness from his voice.
“Yes. I’m here.” She poked her head out of the closet.
“Blond.” He turned his head on the pillow, mouth quirking in a hint of a smile.
“Yes.” She pulled a kimono over the bra and underwear she’d just changed into and came out to do a small twirl, showing him the way her hair had been styled half-up, half-down.
“When I made the appointment, I was planning to have my roots touched up, but now that I’m pregnant, I don’t want the chemicals on my scalp.
This was foils and won’t be so obvious when the color grows out. ”
“It’s pretty. You are.”
“You haven’t seen my dress yet.”
“I’m enjoying the lack of one, if I’m honest.” He tucked his arm beneath his head and let his gaze track to where her legs were revealed by her short robe.
They hadn’t talked about sex since the night he’d slept at her flat. She’d been sick and he’d been very chivalrous. It was all very Victorian.
But the doctor’s endorsement had been heavy on her mind all afternoon, intertwining with her desire to feel closer to him. She did feel a lot better today, having skipped the troublesome vitamin.
Very tentatively, she slid one lapel of the robe off her shoulder, revealing the strap of her cranberry-red bra. “Any chance you’re feeling festive?”
“Are you?” He didn’t move, but his voice deepened. A watchful tension came over him. “I thought you preferred we keep things platonic.”
She had been sincere when she said she was afraid she would fall in love with him, but she was already halfway there. And how could she convince him it was safe to love if she wasn’t willing to let it happen to her?
“I also said sex would probably happen if I moved in,” she said wryly, drawing the robe back onto her shoulder. “But if you don’t want to…”
“I do,” he said firmly. “Badly. I think about it a lot. But once we’re down that road, it will be hard to go back.”
“I know.” She moved a little closer to the edge of the bed.
“But I keep thinking that we’re living together and starting a family and presenting ourselves as a couple.
Shouldn’t we try to be one? I mean…” Her smile turned itself upside down.
“Fate must be wondering how many more messages it has to send.”
“If we do this, it’s because we’re making that choice. You know that, right?”
“Yes. Sound mind and body,” she said with a small eye roll.
“And you want to make that choice?” He held out his hand.
Very much.
Her heart turned over as she walked closer to the bed, shedding the kimono as she went.
His breath hissed in and his laser-focused gaze practically seared her skin as he took in the underwear that formed a V across her hips.
“But can you make love to me without ruining my hair and makeup?” she challenged as he guided her to sling one leg over his hips.
She pinched her elbows together, using her upper arms to mash her breasts together, leaning forward so he had a good view of them threatening to spill from the tops of her bra cups.
“Because I paid a lot of money to look this good.”
“Worth every centimos,” he said in a thick voice. His hands bracketed her hips. He dragged his gaze up to hers. “Mi cielo, I am certain you are about to ruin me. I’m looking forward to it.”
She smiled, wallowing in a sense of feminine power as she opened his shirt buttons, starting at his waist and working her way up. As she shifted, his erection pressed beneath her.
He pushed his hand between them, adjusting himself. His knuckles brushed her mound, intimate and sending a flare of heat through her abdomen.
“You think about it a lot, too, hmm?” His mouth curled with wicked triumph.
“That day in my office?” He turned his hand to cup her there, flexing his grip while his other hand skimmed her thigh then pressed her tailbone, encouraging her to press deeper into his palm. “Have you been aching for this?”
“Yes.” Shattering tingles washed through her. She bit her lip, whimpering. Pressing. Struggling to finish spreading his shirt when her spine was beginning to melt.
She flowed down onto him, seeking the warm brush of his skin against her own. A kiss.
“Careful.” He pushed his head into the pillow and set his hand against her collarbone, holding her off from pressing her mouth to his. “I have orders not to smudge. Which is going to happen if you’re wet…”
He caressed her nape beneath the fall of her hair while he ran his amused, nibbling lips into her throat, sending shivers down her front so her breasts grew full and heavy. His other hand was still cradling the heat at her core, holding her in a delicious trap of sensuality.
Everything in her tightened, seeking more.
She wanted him to roll her beneath him, but this was a game for him now, seducing her by delicate degrees—a scrape of his teeth at the edge of her jaw, the shift of his strong thighs pushing her legs wider so she sat deeper on his palm.
The slide of his finger beneath the placket of silk to search out slick, slippery flesh that welcomed his exploring touch.
She moaned. For a long few minutes it was just that, her braced on shaking arms, enjoying the nibble of his lips in her throat and the caress of his touch.
“Bring this up to me,” he said in a rasp when she began to dance her hips.
“What?” She blinked at him, dazed with lust.
He caught the lace against her hip and tugged. “Hold on to the headboard. Let me taste you.”
It was utter debauchery, but the glitter of carnality in his eyes matched the needy hunger that gripped her. She shifted, allowing him to guide her into position and brush the silk placket aside and lick into the heart of her.
A guttural groan of pure wantonness left her.
His wicked hands moved over her, brushing her thighs and cradling her buttocks, shaping her breasts and holding her hips to encourage her to rock and seek and take her pleasure to the fullest.
In a sudden rush, a wave lifted her and crested, throwing her into a glorious maelstrom of pleasure, one that had her crying out in abandon.
Then, as she was still trembling and tingling and trying to catch her breath, he slid from beneath her and rose behind her.
“Don’t move.” She heard his zip and the rustle of his clothes. “Stay right there,” he growled. His hand joined hers on the headboard, pinning one in place.
The rough fabric of his trousers arrived between her thighs. The cool teeth of his fly scored the underside of her buttock and she felt the graze of his knuckle as he guided his swollen tip against the pulsing, exposed flesh between her thighs.
She arched in welcome, moving her knees, offering. Inviting.
“Hold still, mi reina. I don’t want to move a hair out of place—” His voice was lost in a ragged groan as he filled her with one slow thrust.
A fresh moan of joy left her, one of pleasure and luxury and homecoming.
“Gently, now,” he whispered, palm splaying on her stomach then sliding downward. “Hold tight. Stay still.”
He moved with disciplined power. While one hand slipped her bra strap off her shoulder, and his mouth branded her skin, his other hand caressed the soaked flesh clinging to the pistoning thickness of his. Within moments, she was sobbing in renewed joy, close, so close to breaking again.
“Wait for me.” He slowed his touch. His strokes. “Wait. I’ll tell you when.”
She clenched the headboard in her hands. Clenched her eyes tight and clenched on him as she arched, held on the pinnacle in the most exquisitely fiendish way.
“Please, Joaquin,” she sobbed. “Please now.”
“Now.” He clasped her hips and drove deep, shouting in triumph behind her.