Chapter Six #2
He eased out of her so carefully the ragged emotions consumed her. She blinked rapidly to control the tears which threatened.
How could what they had done feel so epic? When their chemistry had always been there, ever since that first morning, when he had marched into her room at the castillo and demanded to know if she remembered him.
She frowned. How could she still not remember their first meeting, in Barcelona?
When so much about him had always felt familiar.
Almost as if she’d known him in another life…
She strained to illuminate the hazy memories which had scared her so much yesterday, but the information remained rooted in the shadows.
Santiago rolled onto his back beside her. The deep rasps of his breathing were barely audible above the thunder of her own heartbeat.
But then the music from the castillo drifted in on the night air, through the open window.
The Fiesta!
Panic rose like a wave at the thought of Ana, of Alejandro, of all the staff and guests who had seen them leave. Together .
What would everyone think, if they figured out what had happened?
Their lovemaking, which had been so wonderful and life-affirming and exciting in the moment, suddenly seemed shocking. She’d just had epic sex with the boss!
She shot upright, tugging the sheet with her to cover her nakedness, then spotted the torn remnants of Ana’s designer gown lying in a heap by the bed.
Shame engulfed her.
She went to scramble off the bed when a hand reached out and grasped her wrist, preventing her escape.
‘Cerys, what is wrong?’
She glanced over her shoulder. Santiago lay on his back, still gloriously naked and unashamed—and the renewed pulse of arousal blindsided her all over again.
He lifted up on an elbow, his grip remaining firm on her wrist while he searched her features with that all-consuming intensity which gave none of his feelings away, but made her sure he could see right into her soul.
Why did that feel far too revealing now?
Maybe because she didn’t really know or understand this commanding and enigmatic man at all. Any more than she understood her livewire reaction to him.
‘I’ve torn Ana’s dress,’ she blurted out, grasping for something coherent to say.
He stared at her for the longest time, then said simply, ‘ I tore Ana’s dress. And I will buy her a new one.’
‘But you can’t, or she’ll know what we’ve just done…
’ Cerys replied, certain that would be bad.
Perhaps, if they could just pretend this hadn’t happened, everything would be okay.
She wasn’t sure how she was going to control the vicious hunger still buzzing over her skin, even now, after he’d given her not one but several spectacular orgasms, but she’d have to figure it out.
Later . She pulled her wrist free. And shunted to the edge of the bed to scoop up the remnants of the dress, the torn chiffon like a symbol of her fraying emotions.
‘I should get back to the castillo before anyone notices how long we’ve been gone,’ she began to babble.
‘If I go in through the kitchens and then just head to my room, no one will see me.’ She sat back on the bed.
Where were her panties? Her shoes? ‘I can ask María in the morning for the name of a good seamstress. I’ll say I tore the dress by accident and that… ’
‘Stop, Cerys.’
Arms, roped with muscle, banded around her waist. Suddenly she was surrounded by him, cocooned with her back against his chest, his thighs bracketing her hips, his feet on the floor on either side of hers, his cheek resting on her hair. She could feel his breathing, harsh and heavy, on her neck.
The shattering emotions rose up to consume her, restricting her breathing as tears scalded her eyes.
‘Breathe , Cerys,’ he demanded in that cool, controlled voice.
She dragged in an unsteady breath, releasing it slowly as he held her.
‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do. This just feels so wrong…’ How could she have given in to this hunger, this need, without a thought to the consequences, or her circumstances?
‘Do not apologise,’ he said as he captured her chin and turned her head so he could peer into her eyes.
‘I will purchase a new dress for my sister. Not you.’ His gaze raked over her, assessing, searching. But the detachment, the control she had always sensed before, was gone. He seemed different somehow—less rigid, almost tender, despite the guarded look in those dark eyes.
She let out a shattered breath and swallowed down the new surge of panic. And need.
He brushed his thumb across her cheek, to hook her hair behind her ear. The gentle touch, and the concern in his eyes, had the emotions welling all over again.
The yearning to belong to him, to belong here though, was the scariest thing of all…
‘And I will buy you a new wardrobe, so you have no need to borrow Ana’s clothing again,’ he added, the certainty in his voice almost as disturbing as the strange sense of connection, of intimacy, which felt too needy…
She shook her head. ‘You can’t do that, Santiago. I can’t accept it. How on earth would I explain your generosity to Ana? She already thinks we’re…’
‘Forget about Ana. This is not about my sister. This is about us.’
Us .
The word struck at the heart of all her insecurities.
All the things she worried about late at night.
The crushing loneliness—the intermittent surges of anxiety—which she had no trouble dismissing during the day, when she made herself concentrate on living in the moment and tried not to panic about her lost past. But they tormented her before she fell asleep, or in dreams, when the images which had disturbed her yesterday sneaked into her head without warning.
‘But…there is no us,’ she said.
She couldn’t let his approval or his generosity—or the hot look in his eyes, which he was making no attempt to hide—mean too much.
She was lonely, yes, and anxious too now, about why her memory hadn’t fully restored itself yet.
What if she was the one holding it back, subconsciously?
Because she wanted to stay here, always…
‘Cerys, we have become lovers.’ His unruly thumb skimmed down, to press against the skittering pulse in her collarbone. His gaze darkened, making her heart lurch in her chest. ‘Of course there is an us.’
Lovers .
Her pulse skipped and bobbled, her breathing accelerating again.
Was he saying what she thought he was saying? That he wanted to make love to her again ? That this wasn’t a mistake? A disaster? One night of madness they both needed to forget.
How would that even work, when he was a duke—and she was, quite literally, a nobody?
‘I am your first lover.’ The possessiveness in his voice was reflected in his fierce expression. ‘Your only lover. If wrong has been done, it is by me, not you, Cerys.’
‘No, Santiago, don’t say that…’ She leapt off the bed and out of his arms, dragging the torn dress up to cover her nakedness from that searing gaze that still made her feel so needy. ‘I wanted you to make love to me, very much…’ She swallowed. ‘And I enjoyed it, a lot.’
He draped the sheet across his lap with a relaxed grace which suggested he was covering himself to protect her modesty rather than his own. Then his lips curved in a sensual smile.
‘I am glad,’ he murmured.
Her whole body flushed with heat and embarrassment when he let out a low chuckle, so husky it scraped over her skin. And provoked a reaction in the parts of her he had already awakened so thoroughly.
‘I’m going to shut up now. I keep making it worse,’ she said, knowing she had never felt more gauche and out of her depth in her life. ‘I just… I don’t want you to feel bad about me being a virgin. Because you absolutely shouldn’t. You didn’t know. Because I didn’t tell you… And I should have.’
‘Except you didn’t know either…’ he murmured softly, still with that devastatingly sensual smile on his lips, although his expression looked serious rather than amused.
But as she struggled to figure out how to explain herself, so he would see that if anyone was at fault here it was her, he snagged her wrist and drew her towards him.
‘I do not think what we did was wrong,’ he said, the confidence in his voice belied by the intense expression.
‘We have a rare and exceptional chemistry, Cerys. Something I have never felt before.’ He took her hand, threaded his fingers through hers to tug her closer, until she was positioned between his thighs.
Even though he had to look up, seated on the bed, he still seemed dominant somehow.
His thumb stroked her wrist. Her heartbeat became even more erratic, the approval in his gaze overwhelming.
‘I have never wanted a woman as I have wanted you. Ever since our first meeting.’
That would be the meeting she couldn’t remember and so desperately wished she could.
‘It is a hunger which has only become more desperate, more compelling every day since…’
‘I… I know,’ she managed even though her throat was so dry it felt as if each word was scratching her throat like sandpaper.
She hadn’t been able to read the signs before tonight, because she’d never experienced this desire before now, she couldn’t have and still have been a virgin.
But she understood it now—the dreams she’d had about him, the fear whenever Ana talked about their ‘secret affair’ because she wanted it to be true, when she knew she shouldn’t…
Her endless curiosity about him, which she had tried unsuccessfully to ignore.
He tilted his head to one side, the quizzical expression only making him more handsome. He was so much less rigid and forbidding, excitement rippled through her.
‘So, you felt it too?’ he asked, but it didn’t sound like a question.
She cleared her throat, trying to clear the sandpaper. ‘Yes, I did,’ she said. ‘Very much.’