Chapter Seven #2
And this time he did pick her up, striding along the corridor to a room just beyond her own, kicking open the door and giving rampant life to her foolish fantasies.
It was a room a little larger than her own and just as sparsely furnished, though the bed was much bigger.
But Hollie barely noticed the equally haphazard bedclothes, or the thick paperback which was lying open on the locker.
All she could see was the man who was lowering her onto the mattress, his aristocratic features dark and shuttered as he made sure she was covered by a feather-soft eiderdown, before stripping his clothes off.
She lay and watched as he peeled off his shirt, his skin gleaming like living metal in the bright moonlight which streamed in through the windows.
She observed the line of black hair which arrowed down from his chest to his navel and as he began to slide the zip down, he lifted his head to slant her the sexiest smile she’d ever seen.
‘Does it turn you on to watch me undress?’ he murmured.
Hollie nodded. She liked that he wasn’t treating her as a novice, which essentially she was.
Last time they’d had sex it had all been so new and so incredible—as if she hadn’t been able to believe that someone like Maximo was in bed with someone like her.
But while she might be new to all this, even she could acknowledge the undeniable chemistry which burned between them and she was determined to enjoy every second of what came next.
She wasn’t going to long for the impossible or wish things had been different.
That ship had sailed. She was going to live in the now.
The mattress dipped as he came to lie beside her, taking the baggy hem of the T-shirt she was still wearing and running the tip of his finger over it. ‘You have me at something of a disadvantage,’ he murmured. ‘You’re still wearing this, while I am completely naked.’
‘Surely it’s me that’s at a disadvantage,’ she returned, lifting her arms above her head without being asked so that he could peel off the offending garment and drop it to one side of the bed.
Maximo pulled her into his arms, brushing aside the thick fall of her silky hair as he pressed his lips into her neck.
He hadn’t thought this would happen. God knew, he hadn’t intended for it to happen—but in the end she had proved too much of a temptation and, besides, which of them was he protecting by resisting something they obviously both wanted?
Not her, who was so hungry for him that she was writhing against him like a siren, her breath warm and fast against his skin.
Nor himself, either. After all, the damage had already been done and she was pregnant.
And if that was a cynical way of looking at it, so what?
He began to explore her body, reacquainting himself with her soft curves and delicious flesh, his fingers sliding over her silky skin. He cupped her breasts in his palms, thinking how full they were—much fuller than last time.
Was that because of the baby?
A rush of something he didn’t recognise roared through his blood but deliberately, he blocked it.
He wasn’t going to think about the baby. The only thing he was going to think about was pleasure.
So he concentrated on employing every sensual skill he had learnt, tempering blatant provocation with the tantalising whisper of soft promise.
So that while his rock-hard erection was pushing against her belly, he was kissing her eyelids, her cheeks, her neck and her ears, making her wait until finally he allowed his lips to plunder hers.
Was it the little cry of bliss she gave which made him feel as if he were drowning?
As if she were drawing him into some unknown place of dark, sweet honey.
‘You are... deliciosa .’
‘Delicious?’ she guessed.
‘You are fluent in Spanish now, are you, Hollie?’ But as she opened her mouth to doubtless make some equally flippant reply, he kissed away the answer, reaching down to slide his finger between her silken folds, enjoying her gasped frustration as he brought her to the edge of orgasm, over and over again.
Only when he could bear his own exquisite torture no longer did he position himself to enter her at last—though more slowly and carefully than he had ever done before. And didn’t that make him feel...?
What?
He didn’t know and he didn’t care because his thoughts were being scatter-gunned by Hollie clenching hard around him, her back arching like a bow as she spasmed, and then he too was jerking helplessly in her arms.
For a while there was no sound other than their ragged sighs, and then she drifted her lips to his cheek.
‘Maximo,’ she murmured huskily.
‘Don’t move,’ he instructed unsteadily, because already he was growing hard inside her again. ‘Stay exactly where you are.’
‘I have no intention of going anywhere.’
He gave a soft laugh as he began to move and, while the second time was just as amazing, the third almost defied definition, leaving him gloriously sated and replete.
‘I’ve never done it without protection before,’ he observed after a while, lying back against the rumpled bedclothes, his skin warm with satisfaction.
‘So that’s a first?’
‘Well, by my reckoning, it’s actually the second.’
His head tipped back against the pillow as she giggled and he must have slept, because when next he opened his eyes, the bright light of a winter’s morning had replaced the silvery moonlight of the previous night.
He lay there for a moment in silence, aware of Hollie’s head on his shoulder—her hair spread out over his chest like satin.
He stared down at the twin crescents of her lashes, dark and feathery against her pink cheeks.
Her rosy lips were parted, her breathing slow and steady and he felt a twist of something unknown deep inside him.
She was so damned... unexpected .
He swallowed.
She had surprised him the first time around with her innocence and she had surprised him this time by being so gloriously accessible. Her body had opened up with a delicious familiarity. It was as if she instinctively knew what pleased him—as if they had been designed to fit together perfectly.
What was the matter with him? Almost imperceptibly he shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts which had obviously been skewed by the heady cocktail of hormones which were surging through his bloodstream.
But the movement must have woken her, because Hollie’s lashes fluttered open and Maximo found himself dazzled by the light shining from her wide grey eyes.
He saw a flicker of confusion cross her face, as if she couldn’t quite work out where she was, or who with—and then her lips curved into a smile which only made him want to kiss her.
‘Happy Christmas!’ she said.
‘And to you,’ he said, his swift smile intended to inform her that he hadn’t had a complete personality change during the night. ‘Hollie—’
‘It’s okay,’ she said quickly, before moving away from him towards the other side of the bed. ‘You don’t have to say a word. I know the score.’
‘You do?’ he questioned.
Hollie couldn’t miss the look of surprise which had darkened his features. Was he worried she was about to start planning some sort of future with him, just because they’d had amazing sex? Was he so arrogant as to imagine that a long night of love-making had turned her head?
And wasn’t he right to think that way when her heart was full of wonder at the beauty of what had happened? But Maximo would never know that. Not now and not ever—because if he did, it would destroy this fragile relationship of theirs.
‘Of course I do,’ she answered, her staunch words helping disguise the distracting flutter of her emotions.
‘We’ve already had the discussion. You don’t want to be involved with family life and I’m cool with that, for all the reasons I gave before.
Nothing has changed. I enjoyed last night and I hope you did too—’
‘You know damned well I did,’ he growled.
‘Well, then.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘What’s not to like? Has the snow melted? Because if so, I can be on my way and out of your hair.’
Jumping out of bed, she grabbed the nearest velvet throw—which just happened to be scarlet—and wrapped it around herself, before padding over to the window, aware of Maximo’s gaze burning into her, watching every move she made.
Part of her wondered if it had all been a dream and the snow nothing but a figment of her imagination.
Hadn’t she feared that this morning she would look out onto the dull greys and browns of a midwinter garden?
But the scene which greeted her was as frozen and as beautiful as it had been the day before.
A completely impenetrable world of white.
Deep down Hollie knew it would probably be best for everyone if she could make her escape, but she couldn’t help the sudden leap of her heart when she realised that wasn’t going to be possible.
Who could blame her for wanting to eke out this sensual liaison for as long as possible? ‘Oh, dear.’
‘Oh, dear what?’
‘Bad news, I’m afraid. There’s no sign of any thaw and it looks like there might even have been a fresh fall during the night.
The road out of here is blocked, all right.
’ She turned back to face him, wondering what had caused his face to darken like that.
‘Looks like my departure is going to have to be delayed.’
‘You sound almost disappointed , Hollie. Are you so eager to get away?’
Hollie gave him the benefit of her brightest smile.
Perhaps she was better at acting than she’d thought.
Maybe her relationship with Maximo—if you could call it a relationship—was a bit like Christmas.
There was all this amazing stuff on the surface, which made you feel fantastic at the time, but after a day or two it was all over, as if it had never happened.
And thinking of Christmas... Hollie sucked in a breath.
Just because Maximo had set himself up as some kind of modern-day Scrooge, didn’t mean she had to copy him, did it?
They might not have a tree, or fancy baubles, but wasn’t adaptable her middle name?
She knew what the score was, which meant that she didn’t have to try to impress him.
She could just be herself, which she knew from some of her girlfriends wasn’t always the case when you were with a man. Wasn’t that a liberation of sorts?
So she shot him another smile. ‘The only disappointment would be if we weren’t going to celebrate Christmas, but that’s not going to happen.’
‘It isn’t?’ he questioned, with a frown.
‘Certainly not.’
‘But there’s nothing here. The castle doesn’t run to fairy lights,’ he said sarcastically. ‘And I told you. I don’t like Christmas.’
‘Maybe you don’t, but I do. There’s no need for us to forgo the festivities, just because we’re lacking a few resources—and I don’t intend to. Just leave it to me.’
The darkness in his eyes had been replaced by a sudden smokiness which Hollie recognised and it was with a feeling of falling—or failing—that she felt her body’s instant response.
‘I don’t care about the damned festivities,’ he ground out. ‘All I care about is having you back in my bed again. Now come over here, Hollie Walker, before I lose patience.’
Hollie had never been quite so aware of her own power and for a few brief moments she revelled in it. ‘Why don’t you come and get me?’ she said.