Wed for the Spaniard's Redemption

by Chantelle Shaw

  ‘Dios...’ Rafael growled. ‘Do you do that on purpose?’

  Her eyes flew open. ‘Do what?’ she asked innocently.

  Instead of replying, he dipped his spoon into his own dish of mousse and leaned across the table to hold the loaded spoon against her lips. ‘You would tempt a saint, bella, and piety is not my strong point. Open your mouth,’ he ordered softly.

  Juliet could not resist the rich mousse, or Rafael, and she obediently parted her lips and licked the dessert from his spoon. He made a thick sound in his throat that provoked a flood of molten warmth between her legs.

  She watched him dip the spoon back into his bowl and then lift it to his own mouth. She could not tear her gaze from his tongue as he licked his spoon clean. It was incredibly erotic, and heat coiled through her as she imagined him using that wicked tongue on her body.

  She swallowed, searching her mind for something—anything—to say that would break the sexual tension that crackled between them.

  ‘I’ve heard this music before,’ she murmured, recognising the tune that the band were playing. ‘My uncle Carlos is a brilliant acoustic guitarist and he used to play this.’

  Rafael pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘Dance with me,’ he said, holding out his hand to her. ‘This music is flamenco. It originated in the gypsy communities in southern Spain and is as fiery and passionate as the people who created it.’

  Dazedly Juliet put her hand in his and allowed him to lead her to the small dance floor in the centre of the restaurant, where a few other couples were already dancing. Rafael drew her into his arms and placed one hand in the small of her back, holding her so that her pelvis was pressed up against his. A tremor ran through her when she felt the bulge of his arousal through his trousers.

  He danced with a natural grace and Juliet matched his rhythm, swaying her hips in time with his as the dance became a seduction of her senses. Nothing existed but the music and this man whose green eyes gleamed with a naked hunger as he lowered his head towards her, compelling her to slide her hand around his neck and pull his mouth down to hers.

  She was drowning in the whirlpool of sensations that he was creating with his mouth as he plundered her lips in a kiss that left her trembling. He threaded his fingers through her hair while he trailed hot kisses along her jaw. Need clawed inside her, obliterating every sane thought and leaving a kind of madness, a wild restlessness that only Rafael could assuage.

  And all the while they danced together to the music of the flamenco as the tempo quickened and became more intense.

  ‘We need to leave,’ he growled close to her ear.

  Minutes later he’d settled the bill and escorted her out of the restaurant to where his car was parked. Neither of them spoke on the short journey to his city apartment. The sexual tension in the car and then in the lift on the way up to the penthouse was tangible, and Juliet’s heart pounded as Rafael leaned against the wall of the lift and studied her with a brooding intensity.

  The penthouse was ultra-modern and stylish. A bachelor pad, Juliet thought as she took in the pale wood floors, white leather sofas and colourful modern art on the walls of the open-plan living space. She bit her lip as she wondered how many of his mistresses he had brought here.

  ‘Would you like to take a look around the apartment?’ Rafael offered, standing behind her to take her coat when she slipped it off her shoulders.

  She felt his hand smooth her hair. ‘Not really,’ she said huskily.

  ‘Can I get you a drink?’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  He placed her coat over the back of a chair and came to stand in front of her, his glittering gaze making her stomach swoop. ‘What would you like, chiquita?’

  ‘You.’

  The word burst from her. She couldn’t help it. He had driven her crazy with longing all evening with every smile he’d sent her as they had lingered over conversation and champagne—flirting with her, she realised.

  He laughed, and the sound filled her with golden light and a fire that burned hotter still when he opened his arms wide.

  ‘Have me, then, bella Julieta.’

  His laughter stole around her as she literally threw herself into his waiting arms and he lifted her off her feet.

  ‘Wrap your legs around me,’ he told her, and when she obeyed he gave a groan as her pelvis pressed hard against his arousal.

  He carried her into the bedroom and set her down next to the bed. She was vaguely conscious of muted lighting and décor of black and gold, a printed throw on the bed. But then he bent his head to claim her mouth and she was only conscious of Rafael: the slide of his lips over hers, the heady scent of his cologne mixed with the indefinable musk of male pheromones, the heat of his body beneath her palms as she ran her hands over his chest and tugged open his shirt buttons.

  He undressed her, taking his time to slide her zip down her spine and peel her dress away from her breasts, baring her to his hot gaze. But he didn’t touch her breasts yet, focusing instead on tugging her tight-fitting dress over her hips so that it fell to the floor and she stepped out of it.

  ‘Dios,’ he said roughly as he stared at her sheer black stockings. ‘If I’d known you were wearing these...’ he traced his fingers over the wide bands of lace around the tops of her thighs ‘...we wouldn’t have made it past the starter.’

  He knelt to remove her shoes and then slowly drew one stocking down her leg, then the other, pressing his lips along her white scar, his gentle kisses healing the deeper scars inside her.

  ‘You are so beautiful,’ he murmured, and there was nothing but truth and hunger in his eyes when he stood and drew her into his arms.

  He made her feel beautiful. And, oh, he made her want him when he kissed her as if he could not have enough of her, when he cupped her breasts in his palms and stroked his thumbs over her nipples so that they peaked and she shuddered beneath the pleasure of his touch.

  His hands skimmed down to her panties and he hooked his fingers in the waistband to draw them down her legs.

  ‘So beautiful,’ he said again, his low tone aching with need, making the ache between her legs even more acute.

  He stripped with an efficiency that caused her a tiny flicker of doubt. Rafael had done this a thousand times or more—perhaps he would be disappointed by her inexperience. But then he took off his boxer shorts, and the sight of his erection jutting so big and bold turned her insides to liquid.

  Did he see the flash of uncertainty in her eyes when she viewed the awesome size of him?

  He slipped his hand beneath her chin and tilted her face to his. ‘We’ll take things slowly, cariño,’ he promised, rubbing his thumb across her lower lip. And then he lay down on the bed and pulled her on top of him, arranging her so that she sat astride him and the hard ridge of his arousal was there, pressing against her opening.

  But he didn’t push any further forward, and it was his finger that stroked over her moist vagina, gently parting her and easing inside her, swirling and twisting, making her gasp and rock her hips against his hand. A second finger joined the first, testing her, stretching her, while his other hand cradled her breast and he tugged her down so that he could close his lips around her nipple and suck hard, so that she gave a moan and molten heat pooled between her legs.

  Juliet pushed herself upright and ran her hands greedily over his torso, loving the feel of his satin skin and the faint abrasion of his chest hair beneath her palms.

  ‘Kiss me,’ he ordered, and all that arrogance of his was there in his gravelly voice and in his eyes that gleamed fiercely beneath his half-closed eyelids.

  She did not hesitate—simply placed her hands flat on the bed on either side of his head and lowered her mouth to his. He might be arrogant but he wanted her—badly—and she kissed him with all her passion and need, with all her heart and soul, because she was intrinsically honest and her lips
could not lie as they clung to his.

  ‘Querida...’ he groaned, and set her away from him while he reached across to the bedside drawer and took out a condom.

  She watched him roll it down his hard length and her heart hammered in her chest, anticipation and the faintest apprehension causing her to catch her breath.

  His gaze sought hers and she was entranced by the darkness of desire that had turned his green eyes almost black. She read the unspoken question in his eyes and her breath escaped her on a soft sigh of assent.

  He lifted her into position above him and then pulled her slowly down so that his erection nudged her opening. Holding her hips, he guided her, his eyes locked with hers as his swollen tip stretched her and pressed deeper, deeper, filling her inch by inch, and it was so impossibly intense that she thought she would die in the beauty of his possession.

  The feel of Rafael inside her was perfect—beyond anything she could have imagined as he began to move, thrusting into her with steady strokes while he slipped his hands round to cup her bottom. His head was thrown back against the pillows, his black hair falling across his brow, his eyes blazing into hers.

  ‘Dance for me,’ he said thickly.

  And she did. Catching his rhythm, she closed her eyes and lost herself in the magic of an age-old dance, arching her supple body above him, throwing her head back as they moved together in total accord and flew ever upwards towards the pinnacle.

  It couldn’t last. Fire this bright had to burn out.

  The power of him moving inside her stole her breath and the perfection of each devastating thrust broke her heart. This was not just sex. Not for her. Deep down, she’d known it would be more, that making love with Rafael was exactly what she was doing.

  She leaned forward so that her nipples brushed across his chest, making him groan and increase his pace. She kissed his mouth and her heart flipped when he pushed his tongue between her lips. The storm was about to break and she arched her body backwards, shaking her hair over her shoulders as the pressure built deep in her pelvis.

  ‘Dios, what you do to me...’ he muttered—raw, harsh, as if the words were torn from him.

  His jaw was clenched and she sensed he was fighting for control—a battle he lost spectacularly when he exploded inside her at the same moment that she shattered. Her sharp cry mingled with his deep groan as they rode out the storm together, and she felt the flooding sweetness of her orgasm and heard the uneven rasp of his laboured breaths.

  In the aftermath she lay sprawled across his chest, too exhilarated, too empowered, too everything to be able to move. But the idea that he would think she was clingy and needy finally stirred her and she attempted to roll off him—only for him to tighten his arms around her.

  ‘Stay.’

  The word rumbled through his chest and tugged on Juliet’s heart. She heard in his low tone the boy who had been abandoned by his mother. She heard the teenager shunned by his rich relatives because they believed his background was shameful, when it was they who should have been ashamed.

  Don’t, she told her heart sternly when it leapt at the feel of his hand stroking her hair. She must not allow the idea that Rafael was in any way vulnerable to breach her defences.

  But when he rolled them both over so that she was beneath him, and he sought her mouth in a kiss of beguiling sweetness and the renewed flowering of passion, she knew that the warning was too late.

  * * *

  Something had changed and now Rafael knew it was him. It had started when he had told Juliet about his boyhood, which he had never spoken of to anyone—not even to Tio Alvaro, to whom he was closest out of all his relatives.

  But perhaps it had started before that—when he had watched Juliet descend the stairs at his grandfather’s birthday party, a vision of ethereal loveliness in that golden dress.

  His wife.

  He wasn’t comfortable with the possessive feeling that swept through him, nor did he understand it. Rafael knew what he was—knew better than to think he could be a better man. The kind of man a woman might love. It was hardly likely when his own mother hadn’t loved him and his father had used any excuse to beat the life out of him. A few times he had very nearly succeeded.

  Rafael hated the name Mendoza, but he’d kept it because it reminded him of what he was—what he feared he could be. Tacking Casillas on to his name did not make him a member of the family, his grandfather had told him more than once. Which meant that he was no one—nothing.

  Why, suddenly, did it matter? Why did he care? And, even worse, why did she wish that he could overcome the legacy of his past?

  The answer to those questions circling like vultures in his mind was curled up beside him, sleeping as only the innocent could sleep, with her hand tucked under her cheek and her lips slightly parted so that when he put his face close to hers her sweet breath whispered across his skin.

  It astonished him that he had once thought her plain. He wondered if she’d felt victorious when he’d come so hard inside her, three times the previous night, that his groans had echoed around the bedroom. Now the pearly grey light of dawn filled the room, and the only way to resist the temptation to pull her beneath him again was to get out of bed.

  Juliet needed to sleep after he’d kept her awake for much of the night with his demands—which she had enjoyed, he reminded himself as he pulled on a pair of sweatpants. They were mercifully loose around his erection, which had sprung to attention when he’d pushed back the sheet and unintentionally exposed one of Juliet’s pale breasts, tipped with a nipple that was rosy red from the ministrations of his mouth.

  Rafael walked through the penthouse and made a jug of coffee. Then he stood in front of the glass doors and watched the sun rise over Valencia. Nothing had changed, he decided. He felt in control of himself once more as the caffeine entered his bloodstream. In a year he would achieve his goal of becoming CEO, and by then his fascination with Juliet would have faded. Desire was always transient, but for now she was his.

  He shoved a hand through his hair, remembering her hungry little cries when they’d shared a bath last night and he’d made her come as he’d eased his long fingers inside her. Never before had he taken such delight in giving a woman pleasure. Juliet’s curious mix of innocence and heart-stopping sensuality intrigued him.

  ‘Rafael?’

  Her voice sounded from behind him and he turned, frowning when he saw her wary expression, the vulnerability that she successfully hid from most people but not from him.

  ‘I woke up and you’d gone, and I thought...’

  She’d thought he had used her for a night of sex, in the same way that the father of her child had done.

  Rafael did not question why he felt a tugging sensation beneath his breastbone. He simply strode across the room and pulled her into his arms. ‘I’m an early riser,’ he said lightly, aware of another tug in his chest when relief flashed in her eyes.

  That’s very apparent,’ she murmured drily, moving her hand over the tell-tale bulge beneath his sweatpants.

  He laughed. He couldn’t help it. And it felt so good, so carefree, that he laughed again as he scooped her into his arms and carried her back to the bedroom.

  Her impish smile stole his breath. ‘Are we going back to bed? Because I’ve had enough sleep...’

  ‘Who said anything about sleeping, chiquita?’

  CHAPTER TEN

  ‘WHERE ARE YOU GOING?’

  Rafael’s gravelly voice halted Juliet’s attempt to wriggle over to the edge of the bed. They were in the bedroom of his private suite at the Casillas mansion. It was a huge bed, and for the past few weeks she hadn’t slept in it alone. His stretched out his arm and hauled her back across the mattress.

  ‘I was trying not to wake you,’ she mumbled, pressing her face against his warm chest and listening to the steady thud of his heart.

  ‘I’ve b
een awake for a while.’ He chuckled. ‘Did you really think I would remain asleep while you were taking liberties with my body, querida?’

  ‘Oh.’

  She burrowed closer to him to hide her hot face. She’d had no idea that Rafael had been aware when she’d pulled back the sheet and made a detailed study of his naked body with her eyes and hands. He was a work of art: lean and yet powerfully muscular, his bronzed skin overlaid with black hair that arrowed over his flat stomach and down to his impressive manhood.

  ‘I’d like to know what you intend to do about this as you’re responsible for it,’ he drawled, flipping her over onto her back and settling himself between her thighs so that his rock-hard erection jabbed her belly.

  ‘I was going to make coffee,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Don’t you have to get up for work?’

  ‘I’ll go into the office late.’

  ‘But you’re coming back early for the twins’ birthday party,’ she reminded him, catching her breath when Rafael flicked his tongue across a turgid nipple.

  ‘Mmm... There has definitely been a drop in my productivity since I married you.’

  ‘I have no complaints about your performance,’ she said, and gasped as she wrapped her legs around his hips and he surged into her.

  He grinned and her heart contracted. She loved it when he smiled, and lately he’d smiled a lot. She loved him, whispered a voice inside her, but Juliet didn’t want to admit that dangerous truth to herself, let alone to Rafael.

  Much later, after they had shared a shower and he’d given her another bone-melting orgasm while she’d been bent over the side of the bath, he finally went to work. It was lucky that Poppy now slept in the nursery with Sofia’s twins, Juliet mused as she stepped onto the balcony and found her daughter eating breakfast with the nanny.

  Poppy had formed a real bond with Elvira, as she had with Sofia and Ana and Inez. It would be a wrench when she took Poppy back to live in England.