Chapter Six #3
It all made sense now, why she had been so fascinated with him.
Why she had agreed to Ana’s foolish scheme to come to the party, to wear the dress.
It had always been for him… Because, in some secret corner of her heart, she had wanted him to see her as a woman instead of an employee, a nuisance, a burden, a responsibility he didn’t want.
Did that also explain why she could still feel his touch too, on all the places on her body he had already pleasured, already possessed? Her breasts pressed against the sheer fabric she clung to, her nipples already rigid with need again. How was that even possible?
He gave her hand a gentle yank until she found herself perched on his knee, her bare bottom resting on one muscular thigh. The intimacy felt so powerful and compelling it hurt.
Slowly, gently, he lifted her arm until the torn dress fell into her lap, exposing her breasts.
The dark possessive gleam in his eyes was as exciting as it was disturbing, especially when he circled the taut nipple with his thumb.
She let out a soft sob, the ripple of reaction immense as the stiff peak swelled under his touch.
‘Your body does not lie, Cerys.’
He leant down to press a kiss to the pouting tip but drew back when she shuddered.
‘Can you feel how much I want you again?’ he asked provocatively. The wicked seduction in his tone was playful, and impossibly beguiling from this serious, sober man.
Her heart hammered her ribs—the rare insight he was giving her into the man behind the mask of the Duque even more erotic than the insistent press of his erection against her thigh.
‘I’m not sure I can do it again yet,’ she said, unable to hide her regret. ‘I’m still a bit sore.’
He chuckled, the sound husky and raw. Then pressed his forehead to hers. ‘I love that you are so forthright, Cerys. And so honest.’
Love… The word rebounded in her heart—calling to something inside her which felt even more exposed than her bare breasts.
Had she ever felt like enough, ever been loved unconditionally? Was the yearning to be seen, to matter, another glimpse into her past? And how did Santiago know how to locate those forgotten needs so easily? How did he make her feel so cherished, so important, when they hardly knew each other?
But even as she asked the question, she tried to suppress the sudden yearning, the desperate longing to have him mean it. To have him want her to be his. Always .
He wasn’t talking about love in the emotional sense.
They’d had sex only once and, as they’d both discovered, it had been a first for her.
So obviously she wasn’t super experienced when it came to sexual intimacy.
But in some ways, he was more of an enigma now than he had been before tonight.
Was the feeling of validation just the afterglow talking?
Perhaps it was also relief, that the disapproval she had sensed before had always been a result of the sexual sparks he had been trying to suppress… Because she was his employee.
‘These are both very attractive traits,’ he continued. ‘Almost as attractive as your spectacular breasts,’ he murmured, his eyes gleaming as he raised his eyebrows lasciviously.
She laughed, relaxing despite the ball of emotion jammed in her throat.
Who knew Santiago álvaro Antonio De Montoya Lopez, the ninth Duke of Cantada, could be so charming? So relaxed? So seductive?
She recalled what Ana had told her the day before, about the scandal which had all but destroyed his family.
Was that why Santiago had seemed so responsible and rigid?
Because he’d had to be for so long? Seeing him like this, relaxed, playful, made her heart lift.
He was probably like this with all the women he slept with, but still she was glad she could make him forget about his responsibilities—so many responsibilities—if only for one night, because he’d given her so much too.
‘Do not fear, I will not ravish you again tonight.’ He slung his arms around her waist, to draw her more securely into his lap. And to press his lips into her hair. ‘But I do not intend to let you go either,’ he added. The possessive tone was still there, but lighter and even more seductive now.
The easy hug—and the growing sense of intimacy—had her heartbeat going haywire. But she forced herself not to freak out again. Or let herself get too carried away.
This might be how all men behaved after sex.
After all, if she had been blown away by those orgasms, why couldn’t he be blown away too?
Enough to say tender, affectionate things he didn’t really mean.
She just needed to make sure she didn’t take it too much to heart.
And let it all mean too much to her. He’d offered to let her stay at the castillo as a guest for the duration of the summer, and that would be more than wonderful enough.
‘Are you already wet for me again…?’ he murmured against her hair, his lips nuzzling the pulse point in her neck. The provocative question made the heat pulse and pound at her core.
‘Hmm…’ she moaned as he caressed her breast and toyed with the swollen peak. Sensation arrowed down, making the tender spot between her thighs clench and release.
‘Would you like me to make you come again, Cerys?’
‘Oh, yes, please,’ she said, and he laughed.
She squirmed in his lap, her brain too sluggish, too distracted, to process anything but the feel of his palm sliding over her belly.
The calluses on his fingers made her shiver as he eased his hand under the chiffon bunched in her lap to locate the throbbing bundle of nerves between her legs aching for his touch.
He captured one thrusting nipple between his lips, sucking strongly, while his fingers explored the slick swollen folds.
She gasped, panted, moving her hips instinctively against his hand to encourage him to touch the place where she needed him the most.
He circled and caressed but couldn’t quite find the perfect spot he had located so easily before. She gripped his wrist to direct him lower… A fraction of an inch was all she needed.
‘No, Cerys,’ he said, resisting her entreaties. ‘First you must promise.’
‘Promise what?’ she said, frantic now.
‘That you will share my bed until the hunger stops. And there will be no more talk of mistakes.’
Her needy flesh clamoured, yearned, the longing so intense she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.
‘Say yes,’ he demanded, his thumb so close to the aching, tender, desperate spot which would take her to heaven again. ‘And I will give you the relief you seek.’
It seemed like such a small request, to make the yearning stop, so she could reach that sweet pinnacle. Again.
She nodded.
‘Say yes,’ he demanded. ‘You must say the word.’
‘ Sí , yes, yes,’ she choked out on a desperate sob, and he stroked across the very heart of her. Finally .
The pleasure exploded along her nerve endings, the glittering shards cascading through her body as he worked the desperate flesh. Ruthlessly, efficiently.
She was still quivering, still steeped in the heady rush of afterglow, as he scooped her up and placed her in the centre of the bed.
He gathered her into his arms, the thick erection pressing against her bottom.
She writhed against it, wanting him inside her again, needing that connection. But he shifted back.
‘Be still, Cerys. I must give you time to heal before I take you again,’ he murmured against her hair, his voice strained but his arms cradling her so securely.
Again?. Yes, I want you again. So much.
And not just because of the incessant need. But also because his patience, his thoughtfulness, had made her feel more cared for than she had for so long. Too long.
Had she ever felt as safe, as sheltered, as she did right now?
Somehow, she didn’t think so. A part of her knew she should be wary…
That this desire to be wanted, to be needed, to be held, might be about much more than just sex—for her.
But she didn’t want to be cautious any more as the exhaustion swept over her and she snuggled into his arms and let herself drop into a sweet, secure oblivion.