She stiffened and took a step back. “Even if it was possible, the last thing I want to do with you is have another child right now.”
¡Dios mio! Why must she blow this out of proportion? “You love children. Don’t deny you want to have another.”
“I’m not, but there is too much unsettled between us to even think of being parents again.”
“Then let’s settle it now.”
She tossed both arms upward as if that was the stupidest suggestion he could make. And maybe it was for how could they come to terms with six months of lies and half-truths?
“Why do you want me to remain your wife?” she asked.
It was a trick question and one he wasn’t about to answer blithely. “We are good together.”
She laughed. “In bed.”
“Sí, and that is where a man and woman are most vulnerable.” He crossed his arms over his chest to keep from tossing her over his shoulder, marching into their bedroom, and showing her exactly how good this was between them.
“We never talk.”
“We are talking now.”
Her eyes narrowed and a disgruntled sigh seethed through the row of perfectly shaped teeth. “We are dancing around the heart of the issue as if we’re afraid it will incinerate us.”
He paced to the patio door and stared out at the night, annoyed she’d tossed his fears back in his face. He did hate to place any store in emotions, for they weakened him. They stripped him of control.
Right now he didn’t dare lose the upper hand again. He turned and crossed back to her, his blood heating as her eyes flared with the desire she couldn’t deny.
“From the first moment I saw you, I wanted you,” he said, that admission coming easy.
“For sex,” she interrupted.
“Sí. But you surprised me even in that,” he said, and held up a hand when she made to toss in her opinion again. “I had never felt that heart-stopping attraction to another woman. Never!”
The icy sheen in her eyes melted, revealing a vulnerability that had him aching to draw her close to his heart. “It was different for me, too. I’d never felt so drawn to a man before.”
“Then we are in agreement,” he said.
“Not entirely,” she said, a whisper of unease tickled his nape when she moved closer and laid her small hand over his pounding heart. “If our desire for each other waned—”
“It won’t,” he interrupted, sensing where she was going with this and dreading what was to come if he didn’t divert her.
“What would we have to bind us together?” she asked anyway.
¡Hostias! He wasn’t about to answer that question for the obvious reason would only take the edge off the hurt they’d caused each other without solving a thing.
“A family if we are so fortunate,” he said and the intense longing in her eyes brought a thick lump of emotion to his throat.
Her hand dropped from his chest, and he was finally able to draw a decent breath. “And if we’re not so fortunate?”
He swiped a hand over his face and quashed the tremor rippling through him. He’d rather square off against angry board members amid a hostile takeover than guess what the future held for him and Allegra.
“We could adopt,” he said.
She looked away as if she couldn’t stand the sight of him. “You’re still using a child to keep us together. I need more than that from you.”
It was his turn to seethe, for he feared he’d never understand the mind of a woman. Especially this small, fierce one standing before him who challenged him to bare his soul.
She turned to walk away. He grabbed her arm and yanked her back to him and she slammed into his chest with a startled squeal.
“I’ll give you everything you desire in due time.” And before she could protest or launch into another argument, his mouth captured hers at the same time.
The instant his lips touched her soft trembling ones, he tucked her against him and settled in for a long, slow assault on her senses. They were meant to be together for all time. Why couldn’t she see it? Why couldn’t she be content to know that he’d give anything to make her happy?
Her soft moan hummed through his senses, the flint that set his blood on fire as her lips molded to his in a perfection he’d never felt with another. This was his woman. She’d been his from the moment he’d set eyes on her on a Cancún beach. She’d always be his. His!
Her hands clutched at his shirt, clinging to him in a sultry capitulation that stroked his pride. That tremor of surrender that shot through her shook his body with the force of an earthquake.
She was sweet seduction and spicy desire, and he was ravenous to feast on their passion. With her, his control was a tenuous thing. But he wouldn’t take her right now on the heels of an argument.
No, that would only reinforce her assumption that he only wanted her for sex. He wasn’t about to pick that thread again, for if he wasn’t careful his whole world would ravel on him again.
Control. It was all about control and his refusal to relinquish it, even in this.
He set her from him, hating that his heart continued to drum with need. He had to wait a tense moment before he trusted himself to speak.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, her eyes slow to focus, too, after that scorching kiss.
“It has been a long day.” He trailed two fingers over her cheek and smiled when she trembled. “After we eat supper, I will give you a tour of the casa.”
Allegra wanted to scream in frustration as Miguel banked the desire that was still raging in her. How could he set her aside after such a blisteringly hot kiss? How could he profess to want her, yet throw up an insurmountable wall at the same time?
His spicy scent filled her senses and commanded her full attention, much like he did when he walked into a room. Or when he looked into her eyes with a sensual heat that was so intense her resolve to stay angry at him melted away.
It was so easy to get drunk with love for this man. And so hard to understand what made him tick.
She set out the plate of meats and cheese while he uncorked a bottle of wine. This time the silence between them pulsed with warmth, and she found it impossible to hold her annoyance with this arrogant man who’d stolen her heart.
“I’ve often thought that I should have refused to marry you,” she said as they sat down to eat, and for once meant it.
He snorted and filled his plate, his back so stiff she was certain steel coated his spine. “Your condition left you with no other choice, for I’d not father a bastard.”
“You surely don’t believe you could have forced me to marry you?” she asked.
“Do you doubt I could?”
She wouldn’t dignify that with a reply that would only feed his ego.
He smiled, though it was more a flash of teeth. “I don’t recall you resisting my proposal, querida.”
“That’s because I was over the top for you.”
He tipped his head back and studied her, and she wondered again what went through his hard head. Did he love her? Or was she simply another possession?
The intensity of his gaze made her flush from head to toe, for there was no mistaking what he wanted from her most. A sex partner at his beck and call.
She wanted more. She wanted purpose in her life.
“I’d like to establish a school for the Mayan children,” she said.
Dark eyes honed in on hers with rapt interest. “You are serious?”
“Yes. I need something worthy to do, and since you won’t allow me to be a part of your world,” she said, emphasizing the last word. “I’ll create my own.”
“All right. Tell me what you require and I’ll hire staff and see that it’s done.”
“No. I want to do this, Miguel.”
His eyebrows slammed together in an angry vee. “There is no need for my wife to work.”
She pressed her palms on the table and matched his glower across the table. “Yes, there is. I want to establish a scho
ol in Cristobel’s name, and I want to take an active part in it.”
“Fine, draw up your plans and outline your curriculum,” he said. “But I won’t allow you to trek into the jungle every day to work.”
He infuriated her. She had no freedom with him. She had to make him see that she was an individual, a person with needs. The closure she returned to find eluded her, for her memory was still vague. And she was still caught under Miguel’s rule.
She glanced at the sala and saw an artfully restored room that was warm and relaxed. It was designed for children to run and play in. It reflected her likes and tastes everywhere, right down to the framed photos of her and his baby that graced the long heavy mantel.
There was a cozy quality to the sala that drew her attention. It was a beautiful home that reflected good taste and fine appointment. She appreciated the fact that it was set far from the bustle of the cities, and removed from his family.
But a house wasn’t a home until two people put their hearts and souls into it. They’d not established that at Hacienda Primaro because that was and always would be his mother’s home.
They didn’t have it here because there was nothing of them in this house but a few photographs. There was nothing within to reflect a deep abiding love that would sustain them through the troubled times because the love found here was one-sided.
That was part of the reason why their marriage failed before when tragedy struck. She wasn’t sure they could withstand another cruel blow.
She loved Miguel. She’d always love him. But could she live with a man who kept her apart from his life? A man who treated her like a possession instead of his life partner?
This was not how Miguel envisioned this homecoming to be. Part of her gloom stemmed from the fact he’d extracted a promise from her to stay. Ok, so he’d blackmailed her.
He had to do something to get her to stay. Now that she was here, she’d thrown up another wall for him to scale. This one called to his heart, for what better tribute could he have for his niña than to establish a school in her name?
“Are you brooding because it’s too dangerous for you to teach?” he asked, jarring her from her dark musings.
She shook her head. “No, I’m just wondering what the future holds if we stay married.”
He should have guessed she was back to that again.
“Was it that bad being my wife?” he asked, determined to try a different tactic and find out what drove her from him.
She frowned, drawing in on herself again, ruminative, making him sweat out her reply. “Not in the beginning. But before Cristobel was born, you left me.”
He made an expansive gesture to include the house. “This was the main reason why I was absent then.”
Her gaze met his, and he cringed at the hurt shadowing hers. “To build this. But I didn’t know that. You just left our bed without any explanation. You stayed away for a month.”
¡Dios mio! It had not been by choice. “I told you I did so out of concern for your condition.”
She shook her head, as if finding his excuse unbelievable. “You didn’t have to go away because we had to refrain from making love. But I suppose that’s all we really had to hold us. The day we were advised to abstain you moved out,” she said, her chin lifted in a show of defiance she used to hide hurt feelings. “And after Cristobel was born, you visited me in the hospital, but you didn’t come home.”
He slid both arms around her and fit her against him, letting her feel his need, desperate to run his hands over her creamy skin that felt like velvet, drink in her unique scent of heady flowers and innocence.
“The doctor warned me to refrain from making love with you before the birth, and afterward, querida. I feared I would reach for you in the night and you would welcome me into your arms, so I stayed away from the temptation.”
She laughed without humor. “You don’t fear anything, Miguel.”
Sí, he did. He was terrified of the emotions she ignited in him, for no woman had ever commanded so much of his waking and sleeping thoughts. His libido overrode his good judgment where she was concerned. In all honesty he was scared of loving her as he ached to do.
“Besides,” she said with a telling quaver in her voice, “I would have stopped you from going too far.”
“Are you sure, querida?”
His gaze slid up her in a slow lick of fire. Her eyes widened and a sexy flush kissed her cheeks. She shook her head and backed up, each step slow and hesitant.
He smiled and advanced on her step for step, determined to take great pleasure proving she was as incapable as he at stopping this wildfire that burned between them.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WITHOUT a doubt Miguel oozed masculine prowess and feline grace. She could picture him as a Spanish conquistador laying siege to this primal land. Or a matador standing proud and unafraid before a snorting, pawing bull. Or the dashing bandito who’d captured her on the beach that long ago day and stole her heart.
“Sex isn’t the answer for everything,” she said, wildly desperate to temper her desire that was spiraling out of control for she wanted to take this slow and savor every second.
The passion burning in Miguel’s dark, mesmerizing eyes melted a river of need within her. Just one look and she was wet and ready for him. One touch and her body would combust from pent-up need.
He bent his head and dropped a trail of kisses down her neck and the scrape of his whiskers sent shivers whispering over her skin. “It is most of the time where we are concerned.”
She closed her eyes on a moan of surrender, hating that she capitulated so easily to him and loving that he gave her no option. Oh, God, yes, this was a fabulous idea, for when they made love they did so with abandon. And why in the world was she fighting this need anyway?
Though she’d nearly convinced herself that having sex with Miguel would make her leaving him more painful, she couldn’t stop the desire that pounded in her veins. She’d deal with the self-recriminations and heartache if and when the time came.
He’d dominated her thoughts and desires for six long lonely months. That tumble they’d had in the bathhouse was just that—a wickedly delicious tumble. She wanted more—she wanted all he had to give her.
She cupped his jaw and brought his face to her. Their mouths collided in a fury of raw need, feeding on each other until she gasped for breath. This was heaven, she thought.
She’d indulge in all he had to offer in this house he’d built for them. Perhaps then they could deal with the lies and loss that drove them apart.
He yanked her shirt off and flicked open her bra with one slick move, releasing breasts that swelled and strained for his touch. She arched against him as his strong hands claimed her bosom, cupping and kneading them until she thought she’d die from the pleasure, flicking and rolling her taut nipples until she begged him to take them into his mouth. How had she lived without this?
“We will go slow next time, carino,” he said as his hot mouth finally closed over one hard, throbbing peak.
He sucked hard on one engorged tip, and a bolt of heat shot through her to pierce the dam of desire she’d held back for so long. She threaded her fingers through his thick hair that felt like raw silk and surrendered to the sensations rocketing through her.
“Yes,” she whispered as she dropped her head back and released the moan trapped in her.
The love she’d felt for him was there, a bit bruised but still strong. Still hopeful.
Dare she risk all with this man again?
He’d never included her in his world. He’d never shared his plans. He was demanding and arrogant and the sexiest man she’d ever met.
But he wanted her back, and how could she walk away? How could she give up on them now, after they’d lost so much?
They couldn’t. It was laughable now to think they could indulge in farewell sex and walk away. For when they were locked in the throes of passion, nothing else mattered.
Not revenge.
Not regrets.
Not the shroud over her memory.
For now all that mattered was the sensations exploding within her. Her hands swept down his back, thrilling as his muscles bunched and rippled beneath her touch. She hated the barrier of clothes that robbed her of glorying in the touch and taste of his warm, bare flesh.
She grabbed handfuls of the jersey that molded over his powerful torso and yanked hard. The cloth ripped at the seams, and the sound heightened her arousal and dredged a sensuous moan from her.
He raised his arms to oblige her, his mouth hitching in the barest smile that had her stopping just to admire his masculine beauty. His eyes were dark and drowsy with passion and she quaked so badly she nearly came then.
“Impatient, querida?”
“You know I am.”
She’d waited a lifetime for the steely length of her husband to fill her again, for his hands to stroke her to climax. And to prove it, she slipped her arms around his waist and ran her tongue from the upper ridge of his hard abs to one beaded male nipple.
He tossed his head back and growled his pleasure. She felt his impressive length throb against her stomach as he walked her backward, his fingers tangled in her hair.
He dropped on the sofa and dragged her down atop him. This was how she wanted him!
She straddled his hot, hard length and continued her assault. He mumbled something in Mayan and captured her mouth in a deep drugging kiss that narrowed her world to this man, this moment.
Her fingers fumbled with his zipper, her mind so dulled by passion she finally gave up and rubbed his impressive arousal through his jeans.
“Clothes,” she said when they finally came up for air, her tone a complaint that loosed an annoyed laugh from him.
He set her on her feet, then stood as well and rid himself of his jeans with an economy of movement.
It was all she could do to stand as she admired this man of her heart. He was heavy with desire for her, and knowing she’d brought him to this state sucked the moisture from her mouth and weakened her knees.
Proud Revenge Passionate Wedlock Page 13
