Or maybe he meant how to start, for he’d spent so long trying not to think about that night that he didn’t seem to have the words to tell his story.
Thinking about her own pain, Cristina felt a knot in her stomach. ‘Usually it’s not when that matters—it’s who.’ She glanced around the kitchen. ‘And sometimes where. Let’s get some air.’
It wasn’t a question, but after a moment he nodded.
Away from the house Luis immediately felt calmer, and as they walked down to the beach it suddenly seemed the most natural thing in the world to start talking about his brother.
‘Bas and I went to this party up in the hills. I didn’t really want to go. I’d just finished my master’s, and all I wanted to do was sleep. But he wouldn’t hear of it and my mother thought I needed to relax.’
They had reached the beach, and as he stopped and stared at the sea Cristina felt a sudden panic that he’d changed his mind. That he was going to clam up, lock himself away.
Clearing her throat, she said quietly, ‘Did you have fun?’
He shrugged. ‘Not really. I liked my brother’s friends but I was four years younger than them. We didn’t really have a lot in common, and I felt a bit left out. I drank a bit too much—’ The corner of his mouth dipped. ‘And I was tired, a bit fed up, so I was just about to leave when…’ He paused, his jaw tightening. ‘When I saw her. She was already watching me.’
Glancing down, Luis pushed the toe of his shoe into the sand, wishing it was as easy to push away the past.
‘Afterwards I couldn’t believe how naive I’d been.’
Even now he could still remember the shock, the disbelief, and then the breathtaking shame of his vanity and stupidity.
Sick with misery, he turned, but Cristina stepped in front of him.
‘After what?’
The guilt and despair on his face almost split her in two.
‘After I found out she was paparazzi. Only by then it was too late. I’d already slept with her,’ he said woodenly. ‘And told her that my brother had hooked up with a Hollywood actress who was in town, making a film. She told her grubby little mates and that’s how he died—crashing his car, trying to escape a bunch of photographers.’
His face was stiff with misery and pain.
‘I was the last person to speak to him. He called and told me to have fun, and he said—’ he was suddenly struggling to speak ‘—and he said that he loved me.’
Cristina couldn’t speak. Her mouth wouldn’t open and there was a hard lump in her throat that seemed to be stopping the words from coming out. But she couldn’t just say nothing.
‘I’m so sorry, Luis.’
Her words sounded trite, but Luis didn’t even seem to hear them.
‘If I’d been more careful—’
‘But you didn’t know—’
‘No, because I was too drunk and too busy thinking what a man I was.’
‘You’re not like that.’
Her hands clenched together as she remembered him drinking water at his mother’s birthday dinner. It wasn’t just champagne or wine he didn’t drink. It was all alcohol.
‘You can’t blame yourself.’
He looked at her then, his eyes unfocused and dull with pain. ‘But I am to blame. And that’s why I have to live in California. I can’t live in Spain and not take over the bank. That was Bas’s birthright and I took it away from him. I took him away from my parents and I don’t deserve their love.’
‘Yes, you do.’ She took a step closer. ‘You made a mistake, and nobody gets through life without making mistakes. What happened to Bas was a terrible, tragic accident, but you can’t keep punishing yourself for being young and naive.’
She hesitated.
‘Sometimes it’s easier to judge yourself harshly than to look at the bigger picture. But turning in on yourself doesn’t solve anything. It just damages everyone around you.’ Her heart contracted as she pictured her mother’s anxious face. ‘And if they’re around you it’s because they care.’
Luis stared at her in silence. After their initial shock at his story most people would surely be wrapped up in their own dismay or disgust. But Cristina seemed to care about him and his feelings—not hers.
‘None of us can change the past. It won’t matter how unhappy you make yourself, or how much you think you deserve to feel unhappy, you can’t bring your brother back.’
Reaching out, she took his hand.
‘You taking over the bank would not be disrespectful to your brother’s memory. It would just be you taking care of your parents. Being their son—the son you were before Bas died, and the son you will always be.’
She knew she was right, but she’d been wrong about almost everything else. Luis was nothing like her father—a man who had never taken responsibility for his actions, let alone acknowledged them. He had not only accepted the blame for Bas’s death he had punished himself for it, even going so far as to exile himself from his homeland and his parents.
She felt his fingers tighten around hers.
‘I miss him so much…’
‘I know. But forgiving yourself doesn’t mean forgetting Bas. Your parents love you, Luis, and they need you. So you need to forgive yourself and come back home.’
Luis nodded, and then, leaning forward, he cupped her chin in his hand and tilted her face upwards. ‘Were you always this smart?’
She smiled. ‘Of course. Hadn’t you noticed?’
Yesterday he had pushed her away, but now, with her warm body so close to his, it was hard to remember exactly why he’d felt he should do that. Her eyes were soft and light and, feeling his heart start to beat faster, he shook his head.
‘I guess I was distracted.’
‘By what?’
Her voice was shaking slightly, and he could see the pulse twitching at the base of his throat.
‘By this,’ he whispered and, lowering his mouth to hers, he kissed her.
Behind them the waves splashed against the sand, as he slowly wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss. Still kissing, they stripped each other naked, and then they slid down onto their discarded clothes.
His fingers were slipping over her bare skin, their touch light and yet electric, and his mouth was warm and hungry against her lips. His body felt hollow with desire as she pulled him closer, curling her hand around the curve of his neck, their clothes twisting beneath them as she turned her face into the hard muscles of his chest.
She felt his hand between her trembling thighs, his fingers gently parting her legs, their touch setting her adrift from her body.
‘Look at me,’ he whispered. ‘I want to see your eyes.’
Breath quickening, she looked up at him, and he cupped her buttocks and thrust into her. And then his body was stretching hers and she was pushing back, tugging him deeper, until heat flowered inside her and she arched upwards as his shuddering body surged forward again and again, like the waves that were breaking against the beach…
CHAPTER EIGHT
LUIS WOKE TO the sound of his alarm. Eyes closed, he fumbled across the bed, his fingers reaching for his phone on his bedside cabinet. Only his phone wasn’t there.
‘What the hell…?’ he muttered, rolling onto his side.
But of course he wasn’t in his bedroom, and now he was actually awake he realised that it wasn’t his alarm either.
‘Sorry, sorry—did it wake you?’
Emerging from the bathroom, a towel clutched in front of her throat, another wrapped turban-style around her head, Cristina rummaged in the small clutch bag she had taken to the restaurant and pulled out her phone.
Holding it up, she swiped the screen. ‘I meant to turn it off last night, but I…’
‘You what?’ Luis said softly.
His eyes dropped to the towel and he felt his fingers twitch as he wondered how she had managed to arrange it so that it seemed to both hide everything and yet hint at the spectacular body that lay beneath.
Her f
ace stilled. ‘I got distracted.’
‘Oh, is that what happened?’
His muscles tensed, and a pulse began to beat beneath his skin as she walked towards him. He was still struggling to come to terms with what had happened last night—not just the fact that they’d ended up naked and making love on the beach, but that he’d told her about Bas, and about his part in his brother’s death.
He hadn’t planned to tell her. Hell, he hadn’t planned on telling anyone, ever—let alone a woman who barely knew him. But Cristina had surprised him by actually listening to what he’d said. More surprisingly, her words hadn’t simply been catch-all platitudes. He had felt as if she knew him—almost as if she’d known him for a long time.
‘I don’t know. Is it?’
Her light brown eyes were watching his, and it was suddenly difficult to manage his breathing, let alone his thoughts. And, to be fair, it wasn’t a question he’d ever been asked before?
But then he’d never done this before. He’d had a couple of one-night stands, both of which had been short and satisfactory but neither of which had required post-coital conversation. And in his other, more serious relationships sex had happened after the ground rules about intimacy and commitment had been established.
That first time in Segovia it had been simple. Just raw, powerful sexual need, no speaking required. It had been about bodies, and skin, and sweat, and one sole aim—his need to take her. He had practically torn her clothes off her, such had been the frenzy of his desire.
But last night—this morning—had been more than just sex.
His throat tightened. He could just be honest and tell her that. Tell her that it had felt good, incredible. And not just the sex but holding her against him and feeling her arm curled over his chest. He could tell her that part had felt better than good. That it had turned him inside out, and that no woman had ever made him feel like that.
Only he wouldn’t tell her any of that—not without knowing what she was thinking.
‘It was sensational, whatever it was,’ she said.
He nodded, heat sweeping through him as she unwound the towel from around her head and began rubbing it slowly over her hair in a way that made his fingers itch to unwind the one around her body.
‘So what happens next?’
The words were out of his mouth before he’d even known he was going to say them, and it was too late to take them back. Too late to do anything but meet her gaze.
Glancing over at his lean, naked body, Cristina felt heat pool low in her pelvis. Waking beside him in the darkness, his legs entwined with hers, she had thought she was dreaming, and it had taken several moments before her stunned brain could accept that Luis was there in her bed. Heart pounding, she had watched him sleep, mesmerised by his beauty, wishing silently that it could last for ever. That it could be just the two of them together and one endless night.
Listening to Luis talk about his brother, knowing that his loyalty and love for his family were absolute, she’d felt a fierce protective urge towards him, and more than anything she had wanted to take away his pain. But then at some point he had taken away her pain too.
She had never felt so completely desired. Or so needed.
It should have felt wonderful, and it had—it did—only…
Her breath felt suddenly leaden in her chest. Only facts were facts, and nothing could last for ever. Sooner or later Luis would discover that not only was she a mass of insecurities but she also had a humiliating past. And then that would be that.
She felt a ripple of fear snake across her skin. What if no man ever made her feel like that again?
Her pulse trembled.
That was, of course, a rhetorical question, for how could she ever recreate the last few days? All this—the island, the fortaleza, Luis—it wasn’t real life. Or not her real life anyway. Soon she would be back in London and then her time with Luis would be nothing more than a beautiful memory.
But they were both adults, both single, and the sexual spark between them was powerful enough to light up the entire Iberian peninsula.
So why not make the most of it?
Looking down at his gorgeous body, she swallowed hard. ‘I don’t know, but I do know that I like you. And I think you like me.’
Luis felt his breath catch a little. The simplicity of her words as much as the proximity of her warm, near-naked body was making his pulse jump in his chest, and it took a moment to steady both his breathing and his expression.
Right now, being with Cristina felt like a no-brainer. No one had come close to making him feel like she did, but—
‘You’re not looking for something serious?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m not.’
‘My parents—’
‘Don’t need to know,’ she said quickly. ‘This is just between us.’
And if he’d been close to losing control before he almost lost it there and then as casually she undid the towel and let it drop from her body.
‘Just you and me,’ she said huskily.
Kneeling on the bed, she straddled him, her naked body pressing against his erection. Instinctively his hands slid up around her waist, then higher to her breasts, and he gazed up at her, his breath stilling in his throat as he felt her shiver.
Slowly he stroked her nipples, his heart kicking against his ribs as he felt the tips swell and harden beneath his fingers. Watching her soft brown eyes dilate, he lifted his head and kissed her.
‘You’re so beautiful,’ he whispered against her mouth.
Breathing shallowly, Cristina reached down to steady herself, and at the touch of her hands he broke away from her mouth, his head falling back against the pillow, the breath hissing between his teeth.
His eyes were fixed on her face, intent and impossibly dark, their grey swallowed up by the black of his pupils. Muscles clenching, she rolled back and forth on his body in time to the pulse beating between her thighs.
‘Luis…’ she murmured and, bending her head, she kissed him, brushing her lips over his, her fingers stroking his arms, his chest, down over the furrows of muscle on his stomach, then closing over the length of his erection.
He jerked against her and, maddened by her touch, he caught her fingers, tightening his hand around hers as she fed him into herself.
‘Ah, Cristina…’ He groaned, his pulse accelerating. She was so tight and warm and wet, and suddenly he knew he could wait no longer.
Rocking against him, Cristina felt the change, felt his body growing harder and tauter even as the ball of heat rolling inside her moved faster and faster. And then, just as she knew she could take no more, he grabbed both her hands and, pressing them into the mattress, thrust upwards as she arched into him.
Later—much later—she lay and watched him as he collected his clothes from the floor, where she’d stripped them off him earlier that morning. They had made love again, then taken a shower together, and ended up making love until the water had run cold, and they had stumbled, laughing, back into the bedroom and into bed.
Even just thinking about him moving against her made her skin prickle, for she knew how it felt to have him deep inside her, to have his mouth and hands roam at will over her body.
Her eyes rested on his hands—those same hands that had given her such pleasure—and she felt a pang like hunger.
And then, just like that, her brain jumped forward and she frowned. ‘We missed breakfast.’
Luis glanced over at her from where he was buckling his belt. ‘I’m sure Pilar will be happy to make you anything you wish, cariño.’
She shook her head. ‘I’m not hungry—well, I am, a little—but what about your parents? Won’t they wonder where you are? Where I am.’
‘No and maybe. I quite often don’t eat breakfast with them when I’m here, and they probably think you’re having a lie-in.’
She relaxed slightly, and then felt her heart give a jolt as he picked up his shirt.
‘But you’re wearing the same clo
thes as yesterday. They’re going to notice that, and then—’
Crossing the room, Luis sat down on the bed beside her. ‘Then what?’
Reaching forward, he pulled her onto his lap, his dark eyes resting on her face, his bare muscular chest brushing her breasts.
‘I’m thirty, cariño, not thirteen.’ He held her gaze. ‘I thought you were okay about all this?’
‘I am,’ she said quickly. ‘I just don’t want them to get the wrong idea.’
He smiled then—a slow smile that made her body surge back to life—and she wanted him again, so badly that she could hardly remember what they were talking about.
‘No, you don’t want them to get the right idea.’
He gazed down at her, eyes narrowing, and she felt her breath catch as his fingers began caressing her hipbone. Quickly, before her greedy body could override her brain, she wriggled out of his grip and stood up.
‘Luis, stop… I need to get some clothes on and go and do some work, and so do you.’
She dressed quickly, expecting him to do the same, but when she returned from cleaning her teeth he was still sitting there, his shirt dangling from his fingers.
Her heart seemed suddenly to be beating too fast. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
He was silent a moment, and then he said quietly, ‘I’ve decided to talk to my parents.’
She heard the tension in his voice before she registered the implication of his words. ‘You mean about Bas?’
He nodded. ‘I need to tell them what happened. What I did.’
Reaching out, she pressed her hand against his cheek and stroked it gently with her thumb. ‘I know you do. And this is the right time.’
‘Is it?’ He looked up at her, his grey eyes searching hers.
‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘Get dressed, and I’ll come with you.
*
Cristina watched Luis walk away, and then, turning, she walked quickly outside, towards the terraced gardens. Her heart was bumping against her ribs—but not because she was worried about what Agusto and Sofia would say.
Blinded by guilt and grief, Luis had been unable to see the obvious. But she knew that his parents loved him unconditionally and would forgive him anything.
Surrender to the Ruthless Billionaire Page 13
