His Ultimate Prize

by Maya Blake

  As if sensing her gaze, his eyes met hers over the top of the paper. One brow lifted. ‘You want to go back to bed?’

  He laughed at her less-than-convincing shake of the head. The remnants of breakfast lay scattered on the table, long forgotten as they basked in the South Korean sun.

  ‘I didn’t know you could read Korean,’ she said, eager for something to distil the suffocating heat of the desire that was never far from the surface.

  Marco smiled and folded away the paper. ‘It’s Japanese. I never quite mastered Korean.’

  ‘Wow. You’re freely admitting another flaw? Shocking!’

  He shrugged. ‘It was down to a choice of which was the most useful.’

  She wrinkled her nose. ‘Useful? Do you ever do anything just for pleasure?’

  His droll look made her colour rise higher.

  ‘Besides sex,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Sex with you is all the pleasure I crave, mi corazón.’

  ‘You have other interests, surely? Everyone does.’

  His throaty laugh made her pulse pound harder. ‘What did you have in mind?’

  ‘Some culture. An exhibition. Something other than...’ Flustered, she waved her hand towards the severely rumpled bed beyond the sliding doors leading into the master suite, trying not to think of all the other places—the highly polished teak floor, the wooden bench in his outdoor bathroom, the hammock overlooking the stunning beach—where Marco had pleasured her during the long night.

  Leaning over, he slid a hand around her nape and pulled her in for a hot kiss. ‘I’d much rather spend the day with you in my bed. But if you insist—’

  ‘I insist.’

  Because Sasha had woken up this morning with a fearful knowledge deep in her heart. She was in danger of developing feelings for Marco de Cervantes. Feelings that she dared not name. Feelings that threatened to overwhelm her the more time she spent locked in his embrace.

  At least away from this place, real life would impede long enough to knock some sense into her. To remind her that she couldn’t afford to lose her head over a man like Marco—a man whom she knew deep down grappled with his guilt for being attracted to her. After all, hadn’t it taken him three weeks to decide he could be with her?

  He was also a man who believed her father to be guilty of fraud, a small voice added.

  A sharp pang pierced through the concrete she’d packed around her pain. She hadn’t been able to raise the subject with Marco since that night in Singapore. Somehow knowing he’d painted her father with the same brush of guilt as everyone else hurt so much more. Which made her a fool. Why should he believe any differently? Just because they were sleeping together it didn’t mean the taint of her name had disappeared.

  ‘You have fifteen minutes to get ready.’

  She roused herself to find Marco ending a call. ‘Ready for what?’

  He tossed his phone on the table and brushed his knuckle along her jaw. Sparks of pleasure lit along her skin.

  ‘You want culture, mi encantadora. Korea awaits.’

  * * *

  ‘Oh, my God,’ Sasha whispered as her bare feet touched the wet flagstones that led to the ancient lake temple, unable to tear her gaze away from the magnificent vista before her.

  ‘I’m finding that I don’t like you using that expression unless it relates directly to me, pequeña,’ Marco complained, releasing her hand as she leapt onto the next flagstone.

  ‘Are you jealous?’ she asked on a laugh.

  He raised a mocking brow. ‘Of your insane adoration of old temples and ancient monuments?’ He rolled up his trouser cuffs and stepped on to the flagstones, bringing his warmth and addictive body up close and personal. ‘Not a chance. But I suggest you alter your phraseology, because every time you say Oh, my God in that sexy tone I want to flatten you against the nearest surface and have my way with you.’

  He grinned at her gasp and his head started to descend.

  ‘No.’ She pulled away reluctantly.

  He frowned. ‘Qué diablos?’

  ‘Shh, we’re in a holy place,’ she whispered. ‘No kissing. And no swearing.’

  She giggled at his muted growl and skipped over the rest of the flagstones until she stood in front of the temple.

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘Wow I can live with.’

  ‘You’ll have to. I have no other words.’

  From where they stood the small temple seemed to float on the water, its curved eaves reminiscent of a bird in flight. In the light of the dying sun huge pink water lilies glowed red, their rubescent petals unfurled to catch the last of the sun’s rays.

  ‘It’s all so beautiful. So stunning.’ With reverent steps Sasha approached the temple doors. ‘Can we go in?’

  He nodded. ‘It’s not normally open to visitors. But on this occasion...’

  Unbidden, a lump rose to her throat. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘De nada. Go—explore to your heart’s content.’

  With legs that felt shaky, and a heart that hammered far too hard to be healthy, Sasha paused to wipe her feet, then entered the temple.

  Like every single place Marco had taken her to since he’d summoned his car after breakfast, the temple was breathtakingly exquisite. The shoji scrolls lining the walls looked paper-thin and fragile, causing her to hold her breath in case she damaged the place in any way. Examining one, she wished she had a translator to explain the three lines of symbols to her.

  ‘“Peace through wisdom. Wisdom through perspicacity,”’ Marco murmured from behind her. ‘This temple was originally Japanese. It changed owners a few times before the Shaolin monks took over in the fourth century.’

  ‘It puts everything into perspective, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Does it?’

  ‘You said nothing lasts for ever. This temple proves some things do.’

  For a long moment he didn’t answer. His hooded gaze held hers, but in the gathering dusk she couldn’t read the expression in his eyes.

  ‘Come, it is time to leave. Romano will think you’ve kidnapped me.’

  ‘What? Little ol’ me?’

  He laughed—a sound she was finding she liked very much. ‘Romano knows you have a black belt in Jujitsu.’

  ‘I’d still think twice before I tried to drop-kick a man of his size. So you’re safe with me.’

  ‘Gracias.’ He threaded his fingers through hers, then signalled to Romano to bring the car round.

  She waited until they were in the car before leaning over to press her lips to his. ‘Thank you for showing me Seoul.’

  His hand tightened around her waist and pulled her closer. ‘The tour isn’t over yet. I have one last treat for you.’

  Pleasure unfurled through her. ‘Really?’

  ‘The night is just beginning. I know a little place where, if you’re really nice to the staff, they’ll name a dish after you. Will you allow me to show it to you?’ He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it.

  Watching the dark head bent over her hand, Sasha experienced that irrational fear again. Only this time it was ten times worse. Her heart hammered and her pulse raced through her veins as the reason for her feelings whispered softly through her mind.

  No. She wasn’t falling for Marco de Cervantes. Because that would be stupid.

  And reckless.

  Marco didn’t do relationships. And she’d barely survived being burned once.

  His lips caressed the sensitive skin of her wrist.

  At her helpless sigh, he smiled. ‘On second thoughts, a Michelin-star-chef-prepared meal on the beach sounds very appealing.’

  Resisting temptation was nearly impossible. But Sasha forced herself to speak. ‘It’s not fair to dangle the opportunity to have a dish named after me and then withdraw
it. Now it’s on my lust-have list.’

  He reached out and cupped her breast. ‘I have only one thing on my lust-have list.’

  ‘You’re insatiable,’ she breathed, unable to stop her moan when his thumb passed over her nipple.

  Bending his head, he brought his lips close to hers. ‘Only for you do I have this need,’ he muttered thickly. ‘And, por favor, I won’t have it denied.’ He drew closer until their breaths mingled.

  ‘What about dinner...the dish...?’ she whispered.

  ‘You’ll have it,’ he vowed. ‘Just...later.’

  With a muted groan, he closed the gap, sealing them in a hot cocoon of fevered need so intense it stopped her breath.

  The cocoon held them intimately all the way through their torrid lovemaking in Marco’s bed and in the shower afterwards, where he explored every inch of her body as if seeing it for the first time.

  His phone rang as they dressed for dinner. At first she thought it was a business call. Then she noticed his ashen pallor.

  Their cocoon had been shattered.

  ‘Who was that?’ she asked, even though part of her knew the answer.

  ‘It was the hospital. Rafael’s suffered another bleed.’

  * * *

  ‘What the hell are you doing under there? Freebasing engine oil?’

  Sasha froze at the voice she hadn’t heard in six long sleepless nights and forced herself to breathe. ‘Hand me the wrench.’

  ‘Didn’t the staff tell you no one’s allowed in here?’ The harsh censure in his voice grated on her already severely frayed nerves.

  ‘They probably tried.’

  ‘You didn’t listen, of course?’

  ‘I don’t speak Spanish, remember? Are you going to hand me the wrench or not?’

  His designer-shod feet moved, then a wrench appeared underneath the body of the 1954 Fiat 8V Berlinetta.

  ‘Not that one. The retractable.’

  The right wrench reappeared. ‘Thanks.’

  She hooked the wrench on to the bolt and pulled. Nothing happened.

  ‘Come out from under there.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Sasha...’ His voice held more than a hint of warning.

  Her mouth compressed. She didn’t want to see his face, didn’t want to breathe his scent. In fact she wanted to deny herself everything to do with Marco. To deny that every single atom of her being yearned to wheel herself from under the car and throw herself into his arms.

  She gripped the wrench and yanked harder, reminding herself of how almost a week ago he’d ordered Romano to bring her to Casa de León and walked away.

  As if Seoul had never happened.

  ‘We need to talk.’

  Her heart clenched. ‘So talk.’

  An expensively cut suit jacket landed a few feet from her head, followed a millisecond later by Marco’s large, tightly packed frame.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she squeaked, holding herself rigid as his shoulder brushed hers.

  He ignored her, taking his time to study the axle she’d been working on. ‘Hand me the wrench and move over.’

  ‘Why? Because you think you’re bigger and stronger than me?’

  ‘I am bigger and stronger than you.’

  ‘Sexist pig.’

  ‘Simple truth.’

  ‘I see you still live in the Dark Ages.’

  ‘Only when it comes to protecting what’s mine.’

  Realising he wasn’t going to go away, she shrugged. ‘Fine. Knock yourself out.’

  His gaze sharpened. ‘No arguments, querida? That’s how it works between us usually, isn’t it? I say something, then you argue my words to death until I kiss you to shut you up?’

  ‘I don’t crave arguments—or your kisses, if that’s what you’re implying. In fact I’d love nothing better than for you to leave me alone,’ she suggested. ‘You’ve managed it quite successfully for almost a week.’

  Silently he held out his hand. She slapped the wrench into his palm. With a few firm twists he loosened the bolt on the axle.

  ‘Show-off,’ she quipped. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I thought you’d want an update on Rafael.’ His gaze stayed intense on hers.

  ‘I thought he was off-limits?’

  ‘If I still believed you and he were involved I wouldn’t have taken you to my bed.’

  ‘Okay. So how is he?’

  ‘He’s doing better. The doctors managed to stop the bleed. They expect him to wake up any day now.’

  Licking her lips carefully, she nodded. ‘That’s great news.’

  ‘Sí.’

  The intensity in his eyes sent a bolt of apprehension through her. Without warning, his gaze dropped to her lips. Belatedly Sasha realised she was licking them. She stopped. But the quickening was already happening. The cramped space underneath the car became smaller. The air grew thinner.

  ‘You didn’t have to come back here to tell me that. A simple phone call would’ve sufficed. I’ll pack my things and leave this afternoon.’

  He stiffened. ‘Why would you do that?’

  ‘Rafael will need you when he comes home. I can’t be here.’

  ‘Of course you can. I want you here.’

  Despite the thin hope threading its way through her, she forced herself to speak. ‘That wasn’t the impression I got from your six-day silence.’

  He sucked in a weary breath and for the first time she noticed the lines of strain around his eyes.

  ‘I didn’t expect to be away this long. I’m sorry.’

  When her mouth dropped open in surprise at the ready apology he grimaced.

  ‘I know. I must be losing my touch.’ He glanced around, his strained look intensifying. ‘How did you get in here? The door is combination locked.’

  ‘Rosario let me in. She recognises stir-craziness when she sees it. So—twenty-five vintage cars locked away in a garage? Discuss.’

  He inhaled sharply, then flung the wrench away. ‘I refuse to have this conversation underneath a car, with grease dripping on me.’

  ‘You should’ve thought of that before you crawled down here.’

  ‘Dios, I’ve missed your insufferable attitude.’ He paused. ‘This is your chance to tell me you’ve missed me too.’

  The stark need to do just that frightened her. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to leave? I can go home for a few days before the team leaves for Abu Dhabi next week. Maybe it’s for the best.’

  ‘And maybe you need to shut up. Just for one damn moment,’ he snarled, then grabbed her arm and turned her into his body.

  The heat of his mouth devoured hers. Fiery sensation was instantaneous. Sasha held nothing back. Her fingers gripped his nape, luxuriating in the smooth skin before spearing upward to spread through his hair. His deep groan echoed hers. Willingly, she let her mouth fall open, let his tongue invade to slide deliciously against hers.

  His hand snaked around her waist and veered downwards, bringing her flush against his heated body. Need flooded her. To be this close again with him, to feel him, to be with him, made her body, her heart sing.

  She wanted to be close. Closer. Physically and emotionally. Because... Because...

  Infinitely glad he’d shed his jacket, she explored the large expanse of his shoulders.

  When the demands of oxygen forced them apart his gaze stayed on her. One hand cupped her bottom. Against her belly she felt the ripe force of his erection.

  ‘You do realise we’re making out under a car, don’t you?’ she asked huskily.

  ‘It’s the only thing stopping me from pulling you on top of me and burying myself inside you. Tell me you missed me.’

  ‘I missed you.’

  ‘Bueno.’ He fast
ened his mouth to hers once more.

  By the time he freed her and pulled them from underneath the car her brain had become a useless expanse seeking only the pleasure he could provide. When he undressed her, led her to the back door of a 1938 Rolls-Royce, she was a willing slave, ready to do his every bidding.

  Snagging an arm around her waist, he speared a hand through her hair and tilted her face to his. ‘You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.’

  ‘What?’ she breathed.

  His mouth swooped, locked on the juncture where her shoulder met her neck, where her pulse thundered frantically.

  Her blood surged to meet his mouth. When his teeth grazed her skin she cried out. The eroticism of it was so intense that liquid heat pooled between her legs, where she throbbed, plumping up for the studied and potent possession only he could deliver.

  He took his time, tasted her, his mouth playing over the delicate, intensely aroused skin. Just when she thought it couldn’t get any more pleasurable his tongue joined in. Ecstasy lashed at her insides, creating a path of fire from her neck to her breasts, to her most sensitive part and down to her toes. Nowhere was safe from the utter bliss rushing through her.

  Finally, satisfied, he lifted his head. He took a step forward, then another, until the edge of the car seat touched her calves. With his gentle push she fell back onto the wide seat.

  He followed immediately, his warmth surrounding her. In his arms she felt delicate, cared for, as if she mattered. As if she was precious. Which was silly. For Marco this was just sex. But for her...

  She shut her mind off the painful train of thought. ‘I thought you wanted me on top?’

  His teeth gleamed in a slow, feral smile. ‘In good time, mi tentación. We have a long way to go. Now, don’t move.’

  He cupped her breasts, toying with the nipples, torturing her for so long she wriggled with pleasure.

  ‘I said don’t move,’ he gritted through clenched teeth, the harsh stamp of desire tautening his face.

  ‘You expect me to just lie here like a ten-dollar hooker?’

  Despite the intense desire threatening to swallow them whole, laughter rumbled through his chest. ‘Never having been graced with the attentions of a ten-dollar hooker, I can’t answer that. But if you don’t stop tormenting me with your body I won’t be responsible for my actions.’