Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
On my arrival home, a dispatch awaited me.
A lump caught in my throat, and I hesitated to open the envelope, sensing who it was from. Reluctantly, I made my way over to what was intended to be the living room. No one would disturb there.
Ferring had insisted on using a rich plaster design to line the ceiling.
The focal point was an overly ornate fireplace, the hearth still burning.
All this sumptuousness was too flamboyant for my taste.
I rarely visited the room, easily more drawn to modest, quiet corners where I could sit and think clearly, undistracted by garish décor.
I read the document.
If signed, it would transfer half of my estate to Felipe. The fist of fate punched me hard, and I threw the letter into the flames, watching it catch fire and then disintegrate.
As I ascended the stairway to my room, I knew I had no choice but to go through with encouraging Salvador to take up residence at Felipe’s manor.
I’d never convince Alicia to leave Felipe, and he wasn’t just interested in investing in the business I’d built from the ground up.
His demeanor had implied a more sinister scheme, that of full ownership.
I’d grown fond of Salvador, and my plan involved risking his safety. More thought needed to go into my scheme.
My mind teetered on the very edge of reason. My strategy thrust Salvador right into the center of Felipe’s world, and I hated myself for throwing him into the lion’s den. Even though Salvador had expressed his ambition to work for the senator, I was drowning in guilt.
I hesitated at my bedroom door. Through the netting, I could see that someone had crawled into my bed, the rumpled covers had been pulled up and over them. I grabbed the bed linen and pulled it off, and what I saw caused me to inhale sharply.
Annabelle, wearing only a chemise, shyly reached for the sheet and pulled it back over her. “This house is so big.” She yawned. “I can’t sleep.”
I averted my gaze. “You get used to it.”
“Please stay.”
The corner chair was an uncomfortable option.
Annabelle patted the bed insistently. Fully clothed, and too tired to argue, I slid in next to her.
I reached for the cup of water on the bedside table and took a sip.
Picking up the nearby book, I opened it and peered down at the last page I’d read. Even her perfume imbued the exotic.
I pretended to read.
Annabelle pried the book from my hands and pushed it off the side of the bed, her laughter rippling through the room. She leaned in, planting kiss upon kiss on my cheek.
You have the dancer in your bed. I tried to ignore the restless voice of my conscience.
I returned her kiss, tasting her sweetness, her soft lips pressing against mine, my tongue finding hers.
With my hands on either side of her face, I held her there, firmly captured, feeling an explosion of passion as my hardness increased.
Instinctively, I slipped my hand beneath her chemise and stroked her inner thigh, and then pulled away, trying to resist my erotic urges.
It was impossible for me to stay here with her without taking advantage of the situation.
As though controlled by a force outside my will, my hand was drawn by some mystical charm between her parted thighs, caressing her softness, rubbing her delicate folds and flicking that nub slowly; bewitched by her mesmerizing reaction.
She arched her back and sighed, her hands covering her face.
Within me was the desire to protect her, even from myself. At the same time, I couldn’t deny her. Gently, I probed the forbidden, stroking her there, taking my time, running my fingers along her wetness.
I pulled her chemise up and over her head. “Hands behind your back.”
My need to control her in this way surprised me, and despite questioning my motives for dominating her, demanding her compliance intensified my excitement.
She crossed one arm behind the other.
I gazed at her beauty, beholden by her perfect olive skin, her flawless complexion.
Ringlets cascaded over her shoulders and over her large breasts, her nipples pert and dark.
I gazed down at her small spray of dark hair.
Drawn to it, I nuzzled in, her soft scent, her perfect taste sending wave after wave of anticipation through me, stealing my breath.
Kissing, licking, and responding to her, I was enraptured by the sensation of my tongue pushing deeper.
The heavier she breathed, the more my tongue worked her, artfully circling, pleasuring her.
I responded to her gasps that begged me to continue, as did the quiver of her thighs.
Aroused by her perfume and dazzled by her taste, I ascended even closer to euphoria.
I grasped her small waist and pulled her astride me.
Her affection for me gave me the confidence to find mine, to look inside that once scary place and touch the serene. Feeling the purest devotion, I cherished her.
With a gentle thrust, the small indicator of her innocence snapped, and I realized that she’d given me more than just her trust, and silently I pledged to protect her.
Annabelle’s hand rested on her breast. I eased her hand away, my fingers taking the place of hers.
I lay still, allowing her a moment to adjust, then she made slow deliberate motions, a sensual rhythm that carried me away.
Her expression reflected her vulnerability coupled with joy.
Her long lashes fluttered, her rosebud lips pouting.
To think I’d left her to find her own way from the Morans to my house, risking her getting lost, and even worse – the thought of Felipe finding her and stealing her away.
We tumbled over and over, until we slid off the end of the bed, laughing all the way.
I rolled on top of her and continued to direct our pace.
My mouth found her nipple again, sucking and flicking until she sighed.
Her nails scratched my back as she rose to the height of pleasure.
She was lost, gone from me, possessed, shaking her head, whipping her dark locks from side to side.
We both came together, shuddering against each other.
In Annabelle’s arms, I felt safe and knew that she did in mine. A foreign emotion seized me completely and I knew it could only be love.
All the hard edges in me softened. The walls I’d built, stone by stone, year after aching year, crumbled without protest beneath the quiet warmth of her presence.
That constant ache, the one I’d mistaken for part of who I was, slowly dissolved, leaving in its place a stillness I’d never known.
The bitterness I’d carried, the quiet anger toward the world, simply vanished, as though it had only ever been waiting for a reason to let go.
She was that reason – an unexpected gift, something divine in its timing and impossible in its beauty. It felt as though the world had slipped a rare jewel into my hands, something precious and impossibly right, and all I could do was marvel that she had somehow found her way to me.