by Jennie Lucas
Controlling herself with a deep breath, she didn’t rise to his bait. “It was unreasonable of you to block me from seeing him. The only reason I went along with your demand was because I knew that as soon as the three months was over I could—”
“Yes.” His eyes were hard as he glared at her. “I know exactly what you were planning to do.”
The limousine stopped and Sanchez opened the door. Miserably she followed Eduardo out of the car. Why did he always take things so wrong? Why did he persist in being jealous of Brandon?
Eduardo didn’t even look at her as they walked through the lobby of their building. The hot passion of Central Park seemed to have evaporated like smoke. He pressed the button, and they stood without touching, waiting silently in front of the private elevator.
Then he abruptly turned to face her, his hands clenched.
“I’ve left you alone too long,” he ground out, his eyes dark. “I was trying to give you space to grieve the past and accept your new life. To embrace your future as my wife.” Furiously he seized her in his arms. “But I see I took the wrong path with you. I should have staked my claim long ago.”
Callie stared up at him, her eyes wide with shock. “You can’t—”
Tightening his grip on her, he brought his mouth down on hers in a hard, punishing kiss. Trembling, she tried to push him away, but he was too strong for her. Especially when his lips tasted like sweet fire …
The door to the elevator opened with a ding, and Eduardo lifted her up into his arms. He looked down at her fiercely.
“Tonight, wife,” he growled, “I’m taking back my bed.”
The elevator door hadn’t even closed before he was pressing her against the mirrored wall, his mouth hard and hungry against hers. Callie had given up any thought of resisting. In fact, she’d given up any thought altogether. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she returned his kiss with equal hunger. He released her, letting her body slide down his, and she felt his hard desire for her. She felt hot, wearing his tuxedo jacket, and through the thin cotton of his shirt, she felt the strength and heat of his body as he held her tight and kissed her, so long and hard and deep that she prayed he’d never let her go.
At the ding of the elevator, he picked her up and carried her wordlessly through their massive foyer, beneath the crystals of the shadowy chandelier above. His black eyes never left hers as he carried her up the curved, sweeping staircase. His gaze reached into her heart, taking brutal possession of her soul.
“Och, you’re home early!” Downstairs, Mrs. McAuliffe came out into the foyer, her voice cheerful. “The baby’s sleeping and happy and—oh.”
As if from a distance, Callie heard the woman’s shocked intake of breath, saw her turn and flee back down the shadowy hall toward her own rooms on the first floor. But for once in her life, Callie wasn’t embarrassed. She couldn’t care. All that mattered was this.
Without a word, Eduardo carried her up the last stairs and down the hall to the master bedroom. He set her down on her feet beside the king-size bed. She glanced down at the mattress, remembering how she’d slept alone for all the nights of their marriage. But she would not be alone tonight.
Her husband caressed her hair, tucking tendrils behind her ear. She shivered as his rough fingertips brushed her sensitive earlobe, and his hand slowly moved down her cheek to her throat, beneath the expensive diamond-and-emerald necklace to the sensitive corner between her neck and shoulder. His body towered over hers as he pulled his oversize tuxedo jacket off her shoulders, dropping it to the floor.
Walking around her slowly, he stroked the bare skin of her shoulders. Fire raced up and down her body as he finally faced her, cupping her face. He lowered his mouth to hers.
His lips were soft and warm, rough and hard all at once, searing through her body like lava, melting her core from within. Her full breasts ached, crushed against his muscled chest. He reached around her, and she heard, and felt, the pull of the zipper. Suddenly the weight of the silver strapless gown fell to the hardwood floor.
Stepping back, Eduardo looked at her in the moonlight. “You’re beautiful,” he said hoarsely. “I’ve waited for you so long. Too long …”
Yanking off his black tie, he tossed it to the floor. But as he started to unbutton his tuxedo shirt, his hands seemed clumsy. She looked at his fingers and realized they were shaking, just as hers were. With a low curse, he finally just ripped off his shirt, popping the buttons with brute force and kicking the expensive garment away. She nearly gasped at the beauty of his incredible upper body in the moonlight. The muscles of his chest were hard and defined, from his broad shoulders to his nipples and the dark arrow of hair that traveled down his flat, hard belly.
Wearing only trousers, he came closer, running his fingers along the curve from her waist to her hip. His gaze devoured her in the plunging strapless bra and matching panties. Beneath his gaze, she should have been acutely aware of her body’s every flaw, and yet she saw the hunger in his eyes and she’d never felt more womanly or desirable.
A low growl escaped Eduardo’s lips. Grabbing her hips with both his hands, he pulled her to the bed. Sitting down on the edge, he lifted her into his lap, so she straddled him.
Wrapping his hands in her hair, he pulled her head down and kissed her fiercely. She kissed him back with equal force, gasping at the sensation when her naked belly brushed against his bare chest. He cupped her breasts over her silky strapless bra. Her nipples tightened to agonizing points, her breasts heavy and tight. Reaching around her with one hand, he unhooked her bra. His first sight of her full breasts, swollen to twice their normal size from nursing, made him gasp. He slowly reached to cup her bare skin. His large, rough hands caressed her naked breasts and Callie’s body went tight, as a hot current of electricity traveled from her nipples to her toes, sending spirals of hot, aching need to her deepest core.
“So beautiful,” he breathed again. The bed was covered in a pool of silvery light, leaving the two of them in their own magic world as he pushed her back against the pillows.
Never taking his gaze from hers, he stood beside the wall of windows overlooking the entire Upper West Side, and removed first his trousers, giving her a glance of his powerful legs and trunklike thighs, then his silk boxers.
Callie’s heart lifted to her throat as her husband stood before her, utterly naked and unashamed.
The moonlight frosted his naked chest, giving him an otherworldly appearance, like a powerful warlord from the mists of legend, a fierce barbarian king. He looked dark, handsome and powerful, illuminated by a gleam of silver. He looked like a dark knight from a fantasy. He moved toward her, and her whole body—down to her soul—trembled from within. And in the magical silvery light, his erection jutted from his body, proud and hard and every bit as huge as she’d remembered.
A spasm of fear went through her. After childbirth, what if it hurt to have him inside her? What if he was rough? What if he even tried to be gentle but was still just so big that he split her apart?
Eduardo moved over her on the bed. She sucked in her breath as he stroked her cheek, slowly kissing down her neck. She tilted back her head as she felt his lips caress her skin, gasping as she felt his hands’ featherlike touch, cupping her breasts. Lowering his head, he kissed one breast, then the other, and slowly stroked down her body, down her collarbone, down the soft curve of her belly. Tension coiled low and deep inside her, and hardly knowing what she was saying, she breathed, “Yes …”
“You’re mine, Callie. Only mine.” He put his hand on her cheek, his eyes dark. “Tell me …”
“I’m yours,” she whispered, her voice choking on a sob. Of course she was his. She’d been his from the moment he’d first taken her hand, when he was the CEO of a global multibillion-dollar company and she was just his secretary.
Lowering his mouth to hers, he kissed her, long and deep. His tongue teased hers, lightly at first, then plunging deeper into her mouth as their tongues intertwined, slick and hot and w
et. She felt his hand stroke her, moving softly down her belly. His fingers moved along her hip, over the top edge of her panties, and she shivered, aching for him. His hand moved so slowly, so lightly. He stroked down the side of her hip, over her thigh, between her legs. As he continued kissing her, she felt his hand move with agonizing slowness up the inside of her thigh, and held her breath …
But he moved his hand away, cupping her breast. She exhaled, pulling him closer, wanting to feel his weight on her. But he wouldn’t be distracted. His hand moved back to her inner thigh, traveling upward frustratingly slowly as she held her breath. Finally he stroked over her panties. He teased her. She gasped as he gently cupped the mound between her thighs.
Kneeling between her legs on the king-size bed, he pulled her silk panties down, down, down. She felt the soft fabric slide like a whisper down her skin. Suddenly naked beneath him, she felt him climb naked on top of her, lowering his head to kiss her. His tongue moved between her lips, his mouth stretched her wide. And she felt him hard and thick at the entrance to the hot center that ached between her thighs. Every inch of their bodies, her soft curves and his hard, muscled form, seemed fused together with need, sweat and fire. Only one part of them had yet to be joined. One part on fire with need. She felt him, huge and hard, nudging against her wet, hot core.
But she was afraid. She braced for him to thrust himself inside her, cleaving her tender flesh, but instead, exhaling, showing visible control, he slowly thrust a single inch inside her. She gasped. She felt so wet, enfolding his enormous shaft. He pushed further, to two inches. He was so thick it ached a little, stretching her, but as he slid inside, it felt good. So good. Just like the first time …
Then she remembered. With a sudden cry, she lifted up on her elbows and breathed, “Condom?”
His dark eyes narrowed, and then he scowled. “I forgot …” He started to reach toward his nightstand. Then he looked down at her with a sensual, slow-rising smile. “I do not need a condom, querida. Ever again.”
“You—don’t?”
“You are my wife.” He pulled back his hand, and his expression turned wicked as he looked at her with heavily lidded eyes. “I want to get you pregnant. Now.”
“Now?” she said, her eyes wide. It was too soon. She hadn’t even had a period yet, since the birth of her baby three months ago. She shook her head. “I’m not ready …”
“We have eight bedrooms,” he insisted. “I want to fill them. I want the noise and joy of many children. And I want you as their mother.” As he held her wrists, holding her down to the bed, his dark eyes seared hers. “Let me fill you with my baby, querida.”
Callie stared up at him, feeling pinned to the bed. Was she ready to make that lifelong commitment to Eduardo that he wanted? Ready to be bound to him even further? Even deeper?
He pushed himself back into her, and she closed her eyes, gasping with pleasure. He felt so good inside her. Farther and deeper sounded like all she’d ever wanted. She tried to think about the decision that had to be made but her rational mind fell away as he gripped her hips tight. His huge shaft slowly filled her, inch by inch, sliding through her tight, wet passage.
She gripped his shoulders, her fingernails digging into his skin as she arched her back, her head tilted back. Her whole body was taut and aching with need for more, just a little more. She wanted him to fill her all the way, to ram himself deeply inside her. Her breasts swayed as he penetrated her. Her nipples were taut as he lowered his head to lick one rosy peak. With his rough mouth on her, his hips took decisive action. He thrust deeply inside her, all the way to the hilt, and she nearly screamed with pleasure.
But even then, reality intruded. She’d made this mistake once. Not again. Never again. Her fingers gripped into his shoulders, and she opened her eyes, pushing him back.
“Condom,” she panted.
For a long moment, he stared at her. Then his eyes narrowed. Rolling off her, he grabbed a condom from the nightstand and sheathed himself in a quick movement, rolling it down over his thick shaft in the manner of a man who’d done it many, many times. Then he climbed back on top of her. Anger seemed to seep from his body, and Callie licked her lips, wanting to repair the mood between them.
“Thank—”
He put his finger roughly on her lips. “Don’t,” he ground out.
Gripping her hips with his hands, he thrust himself inside her, all the way to the hilt. She gasped, forgetting their argument, forgetting everything as he rode her, hard and deep. A shudder built inside her, a tremble like an earthquake as he filled her, like an underground river bursting from the cracks of a dam. She felt tension ratchet higher and higher inside her, shaking her. Her head fell back as she held her breath, climbing higher and higher still. She closed her eyes as her lips parted in a soundless cry.
Then it was no longer silent, and she screamed, clutching his shoulders as she exploded.
A low, answering cry came from his lips. His hard, handsome face was pale, as if he’d held himself back by only the slenderest thread. But as she shook and tightened around him in ecstasy, he surrendered. He thrust inside her one last time, impaling her so hard and deep she felt split in two, and he filled her with a hoarse shout, his eyes closed, his face euphoric. Almost reverent.
Collapsing over her sweaty, exhausted body, he held her against his chest. “You will belong to me,” he whispered. “You’ll soon surrender.”
Turning toward him, Callie pressed her cheek against his bare chest. Her own heartbeat roared in her ears. As she drowsed in his powerful arms, exhausted and protected by the warmth and strength of his naked body, she knew it was already true. It had always been true.
Her heart had surrendered long ago.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CALLIE woke up with a start. What time was it? Was that her baby crying?
She rose blearily from bed before she was even quite awake. The moonlight had moved across her bedroom, so she must have slept. With a gasp, she remembered how her husband had just made love to her. She glanced back at the bed with her heart in her throat and a smile on her lips.
The bed was empty. Eduardo was gone.
She glanced at the clock over the mantel on the bedroom’s fireplace. Three in the morning. Where could he be? Why would he leave her in the middle of the night, after he’d so thoroughly reclaimed his bed?
Her cheeks grew hot at the memory of last night. He’d claimed her in a way she’d never forget.
Then her baby wailed again from the nursery, louder this time. She hurried through the adjacent door, turning on a little lamp shaped like a giraffe that gave a soft, golden light. She picked up her baby. “It’s all right,” she soothed. “Mommy’s here. I’m here.” Cradling her chubby three-month-old baby in her arms, Callie carried her to the gliding chair near the window. As she nursed her child, the baby’s complaints faded. Looking down at her, Callie was lost in wonder at her baby’s beauty, at the long black eyelashes she’d gotten from Eduardo brushing against her plump cheeks. One of her baby’s tiny hands gripped her finger.
We have eight bedrooms. I want to fill them.
What would it be like, Callie thought, to have a whole houseful of babies like this? To have a large family? An adoring husband?
Slowly her eyes looked around the cheerful nursery. It was warm and luxurious, but she would have liked to create her baby’s nursery herself, even with just a bucket of paint, a sewing machine and her own two hands—not paying someone else to do it, but doing it herself as a labor of love. Next time, she promised herself. Then stopped.
Next time.
Could she really stay married to Eduardo, knowing he would never love her? He knew how to make love … oh, yes. She shivered, closing her eyes as she remembered how he’d caressed her last night. Remembered the feel of his body against hers. The husky sound of his voice as he’d said, You belong to me.
He knew how to make love.
But she’d never seen him truly care for anyone. Except their baby.<
br />
Was their lust, and mutual care for their child, enough to sustain a marriage when their values were so different?
After her baby nursed back to sleep, Callie left her on her back in the oval-shaped crib, careful not to wake her. She’d likely sleep another four hours now, or maybe more. Every night, she slept a little longer. Her baby had become an excellent sleeper.
And maybe she would be now, too. Closing the nursery door softly behind her, Callie smiled. The last few hours, after falling asleep in Eduardo’s arms, had been the best sleep she’d had all year.
He wanted her to be his wife forever. He wanted them to be a family. And she’d loved him for years. Even when she’d hated him, it had been the hurt of a woman who’d been rejected from the person she loved most.
Maybe it could work. Maybe it could be enough.
Or maybe, somehow, he would grow to love her, as she loved him. She closed her eyes, hugging herself at the thought. If there was even the slightest chance of him loving her someday, she would have married him at once. Remembering, she bleakly opened her eyes. No wonder Eduardo had called her naive and ridiculously sentimental.
Where was he, anyway? She looked around her dark, empty bedroom. Where could he be at this time of the night?
Maybe he’d gone to the kitchen for a snack.
Pulling on a soft blue chenille robe, she went downstairs, but the kitchen was dark and empty. Walking past the wall of windows with its magnificent view of the city, she went down the hall to his home office, then to the theater room, then even past Mrs. McAuliffe’s suite. She could hear the older woman’s soft snoring muffled through the door. Puzzled, Callie finally went back upstairs.
Glancing in the empty guest rooms, she had just decided to phone their bodyguard in his separate apartment downstairs when she heard Eduardo’s voice in the guest room.
“Nothing has changed.” His voice was the smooth, arrogant tone she remembered. “Nothing.”
With an intake of breath, she pulled back from the doorway, leaning against the wall of the dark hallway with one hand over her mouth and the other over her heart.
