Chapter Seven #4
Santiago was a passionate man who hid his passions behind a wall of duty and control. And somehow, without ever intending to, she had destroyed that control. And he was determined to get it back…
She pressed a hand to her chest, to control the spike in her heartrate.
Why was she so scared of saying yes? Who could say the marriage he wanted couldn’t work for both of them?
Yes, it would be nuts on so many levels. But what if there could be a commitment? And how could she not believe in the intense physical connection he was talking about when she felt it too? What if their passion could lead to genuine intimacy, genuine affection—genuine caring and respect?
She suspected he would never be an easy man to live with, to love—but she couldn’t imagine a greater gift than the opportunity to try and build something with a man like him.
There were so many things about him, so many elements to his character, she respected.
And frankly, what did she really have to lose?
What if she never discovered who she was?
Who she had been? And why her brain had blocked out her past. What if, subconsciously, she didn’t want to be that person any more?
What better way to start a new life than to take this leap of faith he was offering and see where it took her? Where it took them both.
She understood, of course, he saw this marriage in practical terms—that it wasn’t an emotional commitment for him. But who said she had to play by his rules?
Of course, marriage was still an extreme solution, but then she suspected that Santiago—for all his outward calm and control—was a man of extreme passions, if last night was anything to go by.
The balloon in her chest threatened to cut off her air supply.
‘Okay,’ she said.
His eyebrows rose and his face flushed. She had surprised him. No, she had astonished him. Why did that feel so exhilarating?
‘You will agree to a marriage ceremony?’ he asked. ‘In three weeks’ time?’
The whisper of uncertainty in the question felt strangely empowering. While Santiago’s reasons for wanting this marriage were prosaic, her answer still mattered to him. It felt like a start… A start to something more. Maybe.
‘Yes, but I have some conditions,’ she said hastily.
It would be a mistake to let Santiago have everything his own way. He was a guy used to giving everyone orders and having them obeyed, so she had to make it clear from the start, if she was going to be his wife she wanted to be his equal.
That said, she’d never bargained with a duke before, and she suspected Santiago wasn’t used to giving an inch when his brow lowered ominously.
‘What conditions?’ he demanded.
Good question!
She racked her brain. What did she want out of this marriage? ‘I want to spend quality time with you,’ she blurted out, knowing that would be key.
They were still virtual strangers, mostly because he’d been avoiding her until last night. But indulging their physical bond wasn’t necessarily going to build intimacy, especially as she suspected Santiago was a master at keeping his emotional needs under lock and key.
He let out a gruff chuckle, then cradled her neck to drag her closer.
‘I promise we will have much quality time together,’ he said, his hand sliding over her hip to cup her buttock and make her vividly aware of his need, as well as her own.
Her clitoris throbbed, already begging for his touch again.
It took every ounce of her strength to flatten her palms against his chest and ease him away. ‘I don’t just want to spend quality time in your bed. I also want to be able to talk to you.’
‘About what?’ he asked.
She sighed. This negotiation was going to be tougher than she had anticipated. The man was nothing if not obtuse. ‘Just everything …the castillo , your work, my work…’
‘You will not work, we agreed,’ he interrupted.
‘Yes, but that was before…’ She swallowed, the enormity of what she was discussing starting to intimidate her again. ‘I’ll want to work if we’re married. I’m not comfortable with you paying for everything. I’d want to contribute.’
She could see he wasn’t happy with that suggestion.
‘I am a rich man, there is no need for you to work,’ he declared. Then he grasped her wrist to tug her back into his embrace. ‘And do not worry, you will be contributing a lot… And I will ensure you won’t be bored, as I intend to keep you very busy.’
The playful, seductive tone had a predictable effect, but she eased him back again, more firmly this time.
‘It would make me feel like a burden,’ she managed. And she sensed she had felt like a burden too many times before in her past.
‘Okay. What is it that you wish to work at?’ he countered, stumping her.
She had no idea what her skills were—other than those vague memories of working an espresso machine and pulling pints—but surely, she had to be able to do something .
‘Well, I’m not entirely sure. Yet .’
‘Then perhaps we can delay this discussion until after we are married,’ he offered reasonably. Far too reasonably really.
She huffed. ‘Okay, but in principle, I want to work. Once I’ve figured out what I can work at.’
‘Noted,’ he said, the confident smile somehow managing to be both patronising and indulgent.
‘I also want to be able to talk to you about Ana, and Alejandro.’ Because they would be her family too now.
‘I want to know more about you, and your past and your family dynamics,’ she probed gently, knowing she’d have to understand all those things if she were going to be a real member of his family.
‘What does this mean? Family dynamics?’ he said, the tone aloof and dismissive.
She forced herself not to be hurt by the flippant response.
She knew his father’s affair had hurt him, but it was far too soon to get him to confide in her about the tragedy that had befallen his family.
She suspected, though, that was the key to why he was so determined to lock all his feelings away and pretend they didn’t exist. But she couldn’t break down all those barriers at once.
What she had to establish, though, was that this was a marriage not just in name—and in the bedroom—which was what she suspected he wanted.
That this marriage could eventually be a partnership too.
She sucked in a careful breath. Maybe even a loving one.
‘Well, for example, I’d like to know what the issue is with you and Alejandro,’ she offered. Surely understanding his sibling relationships would give her some clue to his thoughts, his feelings.
‘There is no issue with Alejandro,’ he said, the fierce frown returning—but she could see she had hit a nerve, because the muscle in his cheek was twitching.
‘He is my brother and I love him, even though he goes out of his way to provoke me,’ he added, apparently unaware he was contradicting himself.
‘And Ana?’ she soldiered on. ‘I know you want me to be a good role model for her. But it’s your attention she really wants. Maybe if you spent more time with her…?’
His gaze flattened. ‘I have spent time with Ana every day this summer.’
For ten minutes, during which time, according to Ana, he’d mostly lectured his sister.
She could also recall the way he’d spoken to Alejandro at the party. Had he even realised he had insulted his brother? That he might even have hurt his feelings?
She sighed. There were so many things she wanted to be able to discuss with him about his siblings, about why he had such a fractious relationship with both of them. Was what Ana told her true? That her resemblance to their mother was the reason Santiago avoided her?
But she didn’t want to press the point. Now .
All she really needed at the moment was a commitment that nothing would be out of bounds.
Because she knew she would never be able to live life the way he did—denying her emotions and keeping them under strict control.
Or keeping secrets. It just wasn’t who she was, or rather who she wanted to be.
Because one of the most compelling emotions she had dragged up from her past was the yearning for closeness and connection, which she had become more and more sure in the past weeks she must once have been denied.
‘But you don’t mind talking about you and your family, about your feelings…’ She struggled to find the right words, so he wouldn’t slam down those barriers again.
All she needed was a chance. Something to work with, so that their marriage had the potential to be more than just sex, and convenience, and an astute business arrangement for him, and security and safety for her.
Eventually . ‘Stuff other than, you know…’ the blush exploded in her cheeks ‘…orgasms.’
He let out a husky laugh. ‘I suppose this is okay.’ He sighed. ‘If you really wish to talk about boring things.’
‘It’s not boring to me,’ she said, knowing how much she longed to know everything about this enigmatic and endlessly fascinating man.
‘I will agree to this,’ he said as he curled his fingers around her neck and tugged her towards him. ‘Although I must warn you, Cerys. Where you are concerned, I find orgasms the most interesting topic of conversation.’
She laughed, feeling euphoric because she had received the concession she wanted—and she doubted Santiago gave many concessions. ‘I like that topic of conversation too,’ she agreed, her breathing accelerating again.
He was looking at her as if he wanted to devour her in one quick bite—which was so…intoxicating.
‘So, we will be married?’ he demanded.
‘ Sí ,’ she whispered.
Marriage to Santiago De Montoya Lopez was going to be a rollercoaster ride—and, she suspected, a battle of wills for the ages.
But what was life if not a rollercoaster ride?
One that you either chose to climb aboard or were thrown off by fate.
Her certainty that life could be short, and that you had to grab what you could with both hands rather than risk having nothing at all, was so vivid her heart jumped into her throat.
‘ Bueno ,’ he said, then grasped her waist to lift her onto his desk. Dipping his head, he went to work unbuttoning her shorts and dragging them off with her panties.
‘Santiago!’ she gasped, naked from the waist down in seconds, her heartbeat now pumping furiously between her thighs too. ‘We can’t do it here ,’ she said, aiming for shocked but getting exhilarated instead as he freed the huge erection from his trousers and produced a condom.
His gaze met hers, the erotic intention unmistakable as he rolled on the protection with ruthless efficiency. ‘We can do it anywhere we wish, Cerys. We are engaged.’
He drew his finger through her slick folds, stroked the yearning bundle of nerves with his thumb, making her buck against his hold.
She cried out, the dart of pleasure so strong it nearly undid her.
‘I can feel how much you need me, Cerys,’ he said, the awe in his voice making the hope swell.
When had she ever felt so wanted, by anyone? Perhaps it was just sex, but still it felt immense, important.
He cupped her bottom, dragged her to the edge of the desk to position the huge erection at her entrance. She shuddered and flinched, gripping his shoulders as she braced herself for the heavy thrust which she wanted and needed so desperately.
Instead of impaling her again, though, he gathered her chin and lifted her gaze to his.
‘Can you take me like this, Cerys? You are not too sore?’
That he was determined not to hurt her, when she could see the hunger in his face, made hope swell into her throat.
She nodded, blindsided by an emotion which felt like more than excitement, more than just fascination. More than just that desperate, undefinable urge to live in the moment and enjoy whatever life threw at you… An emotion that was terrifying.
‘I want to feel you inside me again,’ she said, her heart thundering when approval darkened his expression.
‘You must tell me if it is too much,’ he said.
He hooked her legs around his waist and eased inside her with infinite patience, infinite care, but he didn’t stop until he was seated to the hilt.
She pushed the terrifying emotions back, to concentrate on the rising tension, the brutal bliss just out of reach.
He rolled his hips, slowly, carefully, out, then back.
Then faster, harder—until all she could feel was the animal hunger, the deep strokes of him inside her, the desperate need.
All she could hear was his grunts, her sobs, the slick slap of flesh against flesh.
The basic elemental need became so huge, so unstoppable, it was like a runaway train, speeding her towards that desperate oblivion once more.
But as she crashed over, into his arms, and he shouted out his own release, the painful pressure in her chest—the frantic fear that there was much more at stake here already than she understood, or could control—exploded too.