The Astronomer

by Charmaine Pauls

  “I should tie you up and punish you for how you tortured me last night,” he said, brushing the hair from her face.

  “Mmm.” Her voice was sleepy. “Is that the way to say good morning?”

  “I can think of a lot of ways in which I’d like to wake you.”

  She had the audacity to pout her lips. “Why didn’t you?”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “After last night?”

  She flushed prettily. “That was a ... long night. You’re insatiable, Mr. Larraín.”

  “Where you’re concerned, I most certainly am.”

  “I’m sure I could manage wake-up sex.”

  Hell. His body tightened at that thought. He could manage a lot more than that. He could make love to her all day long, but he had been overenthusiastic last night, spurred on by her delicious seduction.

  He kissed her gently. “I doubt you’ll be able to walk today. As much as I’d like to take you up on your offer, I’d be a bastard to do so.”

  Her blush intensified.

  “God, Fraya, you’re beautiful.”

  He had to get away from her naked body before he gave in to becoming the selfish, inconsiderate bastard he had just sworn not to be.

  “I’ll make us some breakfast,” he said, straightening.

  She sat up, holding the sheet to her breasts. “I’ll have a quick shower.”

  He gently tugged at the linen covering up her beautiful body. “You’re way too pretty to hide behind my sheets.”

  She looked at him from under her long lashes, her eyes very brown against the paleness of her skin and her hair. It still shocked him every time. No matter how much he looked at her, he could never get used to the contrast between her light complexion and those bewitching, dark eyes.

  He took her hand and helped her from the bed. She stood before him naked, a little shy, the most perfect being he had ever laid eyes upon. He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her, cradling her against the shelter of his chest. More than anything, he wanted to keep her safe, to look after her, to protect her, and despite his desire to fulfill her each and every dream, he dreaded the mission she was embarking on. If anything was to happen to her...

  Emilio nuzzled his nose in her hair. “I would like for you to spend every night in my bed, Fraya. Do you think you can do that for me, baby?”

  She pulled back to look up at him. “I thought you couldn’t sleep with anyone.”

  “I can’t sleep knowing that you’re here, so close, and not in my arms.”

  A frown played between her huge, doe eyes. He smoothed his finger between her eyebrows. “Don’t you like the idea?”

  She shook her head. “I’d like that, but I don’t want to keep you from sleeping.”

  “We’re not sleeping, anyway.”

  She blinked once and her cheeks turned pink. He loved that about her. She seemed so innocent, and yet, she was responsive in a way no other woman had reacted to him before. He’d always sensed a measure of staged responses from his previous lovers and accepted it as a part of female nature. But with Fraya it was different. She was pure and real in her passion, and his male pride warmed at the knowledge that he was the first to unlock her true desire.

  “Say yes,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said, her breath a sigh against his chest.

  He cradled her head, feeling her warmth spread through his clothes to set fire to his skin, to warm his soul, and he had to push her away gently, or he was going to carry her right back to bed.

  “Use my bathroom. I’ll wait downstairs.”

  He didn’t look back as he made for the door. If he did, they were not going to have breakfast.

  He had made coffee and omelets with real eggs, mushrooms and cheese, which he served on warmed plates when Fraya came downstairs. She wore a red T-shirt with buttons down the front over white shorts and her feet were bare. He caught a whiff of jasmine in her wet hair as she moved past him to sit at the window table Maria had set. Emilio took the seat opposite her and leaned over. His fingers went to the small top button of her T-shirt, slowly undoing it. She looked at him in surprise, but didn’t move his hand away when he brushed the fabric aside, revealing the seductive upper curve of her breasts.

  “You have a beautiful figure, Fraya.”

  She flushed and glanced in Maria’s direction, who was doing whatever it was she was doing in some corner of the kitchen. Emilio was too preoccupied with his mate to pay attention to anything else happening around him. He leaned back in his chair, admiring the view, and it had nothing to do with the city spread out in the valley below. It was a good thing they were not alone, otherwise he would have been tempted to lift his wife onto the table and have a different kind of breakfast.

  Her lashes dipped. He realized he was staring, and pulled himself from his thoughts. Emilio took her fork and cut into a piece of omelet, lifting it to her lips.

  “Eat, baby, or I’ll be forced to feed you, and I find it way too erotic for your safety.”

  Fraya glanced in Maria’s direction again, but she took the fork in her mouth and ate the food he had cooked for her.

  Watching Fraya eat was as delicious as the act of eating itself. “That’s a good girl,” he cooed, trying not to trip over his words as he watched her tongue flick out and lick her lower lip. He remembered the actions that tongue had performed last night and grimaced in need.

  Fraya chuckled. “I can see what you’re thinking.”

  He lifted a brow. “Can you, now?”

  The doorbell rang, breaking the spell.

  Emilio frowned. “I hope it’s not Ana, or Ofelia,” he grumbled.

  Fraya laughed. It was a clear, carefree sound. “That’s not a kind thing to say of your family.”

  “I’m loathe to share you so often with them.”

  Maria read the electronic message on the gate receiver panel and turned to them. “Delivery for Dr. Riber.”

  Fraya looked up. “I’m not expecting anything.”

  “Thank you, Maria,” Emilio said. “Can you get it, please?”

  When Maria stepped back into the kitchen, it was with a huge bouquet of flowers overflowing with red roses and white lilies.

  Fraya gasped. “Is that for me?”

  Maria left it on the counter by the sink “I’ll water them. How lovely.” She pulled a card from a peg and handed it to Fraya.

  Nobody sent flowers. It was an old-fashioned custom. Flowers like those required more points than what he earned in a month. Emilio watched Fraya as she read the message. Her eyes became guarded and he didn’t like their expression one bit.

  “Who is it from, Fraya?”

  She didn’t answer. She only stared at him, her eyes big.

  His gut clenched. “Who sent you the flowers?”

  She cast her eyes down. “It’s from the office, to congratulate me on the new position.”

  His instinct went into overdrive. She was hiding something. “Who at the office?”

  His beautiful mate finally met his eyes, and what he saw in them frightened him. It was anger born from defense, and even before she said, “Does it matter?” he knew that she was going to choose attack as her tactic.

  “I asked you who they are from.”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “Hopefully none.” Except that he was going to kill the man who dared sending his wife flowers. Intimate flowers. Red roses.

  He got up and walked around the table, lifting her chin with his finger. “I won’t ask you again.”

  She pulled away from his touch. “It’s from Professor Andrews.”

  “Why?” He looked down at her, aware of his intimidating stance, but he couldn’t think of anything but another man looking at his mate, interested in his wife.

  “He’s the senior archeologist.”

  “I know who Andrews is. Why did he send you flowers?”

  “He’s on the team, Emilio.”

  She took the wind right from his sails. “What?”

  �
�He’s heading the excavation.”

  Son of a bitch. He knew enough about Andrews to know he was a womanizer of the first degree.

  “You didn’t mention it.”

  “I didn’t think it was important.”

  “Not important? You’re going to spend three months camping with him in the desert and you didn’t think it was important?”

  “I’m not ‘spending’ three months with him. We’re working together and therefore, yes, we’ll share the same campsite. Do you want us to have two separate camps now? In any event, it won’t be three months straight. It’ll depend on the find, if any. I’ll be between the camp, the ob and the condo.”

  “You conveniently omitted that piece of information.”

  “Look, I don’t like it, but I don’t have a choice. I didn’t choose the team. Welser did.”

  “And I intend to have a word with him.”

  Fraya pushed her chair back and got to her feet. “Oh no, you don’t. You won’t interfere in my job again. You’ve already trespassed in my professional life three times, first about my living arrangements, secondly about my date of employment and thirdly about my honeymoon. I thought we had an understanding.”

  “We do have an understanding. We’re fucking mated. That’s the only understanding that should matter to you. And I won’t risk you with that womanizer alone in the desert.”

  “You don’t trust me?” she said, her voice shaky.

  “Trust you? You cheated on Gene with me, Fraya. How can you ask me to trust you?”

  The minute he had said it, he knew it was a mistake. He regretted it before the last word was cold on his lips. It wasn’t true. He did trust her, but he was jealous and he knew that son of a bitch Andrews too well. His reputation was known all over the country. Now, he watched his precious mate inhale slowly, watched his words slice through those beautiful brown eyes, making them sad and then hard.

  “I deserved that,” she said, nodding slowly. “I’ll take the blow. There’s nothing I can say in my defense. I almost forgot you once said that you’ll never forgive, or forget. I almost forgot that fucking me is your way of revenging yourself, and nothing more. Thanks for the reminder.”

  He couldn’t believe his ears. The blood was boiling in his veins. “After last night, how can you even refer to it as just fucking?”

  “Because that’s what it is, Emilio. Making love requires love. You bought me for sex. I sold my body for this job.”

  His anger flared. “Does that mean that you’ll sell your body for your dream, Fraya? Will you sell your body to any bidder? To Andrews, if needed?”

  She laughed in his face. It was a cold sound. “Believe what you have to, Emilio.”

  He saw red. She wouldn’t. He knew she would never do that. But the mental image of Andrews laying his hands on her was too much.

  He took a step toward her. “I told you before, I fuck exclusively.”

  “I remember. You fuck. That’s all you do.”

  He grabbed her arm, his control shattering with shards of blackness darkening his vision. “And you’re the one I’m fucking. Don’t forget that.”

  She smiled. “How can I? You keep on reminding me. I’m at your command.”

  That was it. The hope he had kindled since the night before broke into pieces that pierced his heart. She was his. His. Damn her. Damn Andrews. Damn himself. He pulled her roughly against him, the overbearing need to prove to himself that she belonged to him overriding any other logical thought in his mind.

  “Since our mating I’ve treated you with nothing but kindness. But you insist on making me into the monster you believe me to be. I thought we’ve moved past all that commanding bullshit, but if you can’t let it go, if that’s what you want, that’s what I’ll give you.” He released her. “Upstairs,” he growled. “I want you naked and on your knees.”

  She paled, her beautiful features distorted in a pained expression. Then she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, an unreadable veil falling over her eyes before she turned and left in the direction of his bedroom.

  Emilio shook in rage. He ached in fury and pain. He shouldn’t follow her. If he did, they were back to square one, right where they had started. Or maybe they had always been stuck in that very same spot, and he thought they had moved forward because he wanted to believe it so badly. He became aware of his nails cutting into his palms as he opened and clenched his fingers. Inhaling deeply, he counted to ten. He didn’t mean it. He had to apologize. He had to warn Fraya about Andrews.

  He went after her, his guts in a ball, his heart in a vice, and when he opened his door, she sat on her knees in the middle of the floor, naked. There was something in her eyes that told him that he had lost her forever, and he didn’t know how to go back. It was the first time in his life that he truly feared.

  Slowly, he crossed the floor. He took her hand and pulled her to her feet.

  “Fraya, get dressed,” he said softly.

  She lifted her chin. “No, Emilio. I got naked for you, just like you commanded. You made me do this, get onto my knees for you. Damn you. You wanted to fuck me, now do it.”

  He pursed his lips, holding onto the last shreds of his control. “We need to talk.”

  She plucked her hand from his and walked to his bed. “Do you want to fuck me here?” Her voice was shaky with an emotion that Emilio didn’t like. “Or perhaps you want me bent over the desk. The chair? Do you want to fuck my mouth?”

  “Stop it!” In two steps Emilio was in front of her, grabbing her shoulders. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “Don’t I? I’m your whore, Emilio, nothing more.”

  In a flash the room around him turned red. His vision blurred. His heart died. “Don’t ever say that again,” he said, his voice unnaturally soft to his own ears.

  “Can’t take the truth?” She laughed bitterly. “I sold myself to you. Can’t say I don’t deserve to be treated like a sex object, a person you cannot trust, a common whore.”

  Emilio couldn’t breathe. The air was trapped in his lungs. He watched his mate lie back on his bed, spreading her legs, holding his gaze. “You told me to get naked. Now fuck me. Fuck me so that I can pay you for the job you promised me, so that you can let me get on with it and stop accusing me of wanting to get into the pants of every man I need to work with.”

  He snapped. It was like a rope giving way over the edge of a cliff. He could feel his face pull into an ugly mask of pain over which he had no control.

  “I’ve never forced a woman before, Fraya. I’ll be damned if I take my mate against her will.”

  She laughed hauntingly. “You said you won’t take me if I wasn’t turned on. I must be a whore, Emilio, because despite the fact that you accuse me of being a cheap woman who would sleep with someone as revolting as Hart Andrews, I’m wet for you. Perhaps it’s because I’m thinking of Andrews.”

  A cry escaped his lips. She didn’t mean it. He had to believe she didn’t mean it.

  “Fuck me, you bastard!”

  She was crying now, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Emilio fell to his knees, trying to take her into his arms, but her hands went to his pants, undoing the clasp of his belt.

  He shook his head. “We need to talk.”

  She unzipped him and moved his pants with his underpants over his hips. “You said you wanted to fuck me, now do it.”

  When he reached for her she rolled on her tummy, turning her face away from him.

  She was his. His. He knew it wasn’t true, even as he repeated the words in his mind. He did take her. But she took him too. He slammed into her as she moved back, grinding her hips against his, and for the first time since they were mated, Emilio found no joy in their mutual pleasure. He cried out her name, but no sound left his lips as he fell over her, spent. He loved her and she hated him. And he couldn’t blame her. He wanted her to love him so badly that he was willing to use sex as a weapon, and now it had backfired.

  When he tried to fold his arms ar
ound her, she said, “Let me go.”

  He straightened reluctantly, zipping himself up. He watched her lift herself from the bed, her face still flushed from their heated, angry coupling. When she picked up her clothes from a nearby chair and started making for the door, he took her hand.

  “Fraya–”

  “Please,” she said, turning her face away, “I want to be alone.”

  Slowly, he released her, regret leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Fraya left Santiago with a heavy and divided heart. Emilio hadn’t brought up the subject of their fight again, and neither had she. After their disagreement Fraya hadn’t gone back to his bed. Her mate had sought her body out, but she had the impression that he did it more for her benefit, for medical reasons, than for passion. The unsaid became a wedge between them. Emilio hadn’t been there to see her off when she departed to start her new project. He had greeted her, almost formally, after their silent dinner the night before, explaining that he was to travel back to Huilo-Huilo.

  Fraya couldn’t imagine why Andrews had executed such a daring stunt as to send her flowers, unless he had hoped to create havoc in her relationship. In that case, he had succeeded. Questioning him about it would be admitting to the disruption it had caused, and she didn’t want to give him that satisfaction. Instead, Fraya decided not mention it, to pretend that the act was too insignificant to mention. It certainly didn’t warrant a thank you. She wasn’t dumb enough to believe he would have done it with pure intentions. No, the more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that Andrews knew exactly what he was doing when he sent her that bouquet. Creating complications in her relationship would make her job even more difficult. Maybe Andrews was counting on Emilio’s possessiveness, hoping the gesture would evoke enough jealousy in her mate to force her to quit the project. Not a chance in hell. He may have predicted her mate’s arrogant male actions, but he certainly did not know her or the depth of her determination.

  The only thing Fraya could do to take her mind off her heartache and disappointment, was to throw herself heart and soul into her project that had started in all earnest. On Monday she did an equipment and supply check with the overseers and confirmed that Tim had book the vehicles. On Tuesday the caravan moved out into the desert. They set up camp sixty miles from the observatory near an area known as Spitting Geysers, due to the natural jets that spew hot water and gas into the air. Fraya had determined the location using a map of the stars dating back to 10500 BC.