When every inch of her had been cleaned, he put a hand on each ankle then brushed all the way back up until he was gripping her hips and his eyes were staring into hers.
His breathing was as erratic as her own, she thought dimly, but it was the last coherent thought in her pleasure-saturated mind for he captured her lips in a kiss of such savage passion that she melted into him with abandon.
Her hand cradled the back of his head, fingers kneading as their tongues entwined in a fierce erotic dance that only fed the burning need inside her. When he hooked an arm around her waist to pull her flush against him and her breasts pressed against his hard torso, the burn in her pelvis turned into a throb that had her moaning for relief from the exquisite pain.
As if sensing her need, Emiliano broke the kiss to brush his lips over her cheeks and then down the side of her neck, sinking lower as his mouth moved over her aching breasts and captured the erect tips whole in turn. Oh, the sensation...
His mouth continued its erotic assault of her flesh. His appreciative groans stoked her responses, an instinctive knowledge that for every ounce of pleasure he was giving her, he received gratification too. By the time he reached the essence of her femininity she was so far gone in the thick haze of desire that when he pressed his mouth to it and inhaled deeply she grasped wildly for his hair to cling to, tilted her head back to rest against the wall and closed her eyes.
With one hand clasping her hip and the other roaming over her belly and breasts, his tongue stroked her with an incessant pressure that had her reaching a peak in moments.
Then, no sooner had the waves of rippling pleasure begun to ebb than Emiliano moved his mouth to kiss his way back up over her belly and breasts to her lips, his tongue plunging back into her mouth at the same moment he plunged deep inside her.
Emiliano groaned loudly and stilled. Dios...
How he held himself together he would never know. Their first time together had been an explosion of passion with no time to savour or appreciate. This time, he wanted to savour the intensity of every perfect moment but it was hard when he was buried deep in Becky’s tight heat and the weight of her perfect breasts pushed against his chest and the taste of her lingered so deliciously on his tongue. His senses were infused by so many intoxicating sensations that he had to grit his teeth tightly to stop the climax begging for release.
He kissed her, long and hard. And then he began to move.
Every thrust, every brush of her breast, every breathy moan that poured from her into his mouth, every knead of her fingers into his flesh fed the hunger in him. In and out he thrust, harder and harder, being pulled deeper and deeper into the abyss, clinging on by his teeth as Becky’s movements became more frantic too and her moans deepened and then, just as he feared he could hold on no more, she pressed tightly against him with a cry that seemed to come from her very soul and shuddered wildly in his arms.
And then he was lost. His climax ripped through him, pleasure flooding him so thoroughly that, for the longest moment, the world around him turned into flickering white.
Slowly, the second wave of pulsations to have crashed through her settled and Becky drifted back to earth.
Her face was buried in Emiliano’s neck and when she turned to breathe she was surprised to find the shower still spraying over their fused bodies.
When he shifted she held her only just regained breath as the aftermath of their first coupling suddenly played in her mind. When he moved the arm wrapped so tightly around her, fear swiftly clutched her heart.
She didn’t think she could bear it if the beauty of what they’d just shared was tarnished with anger and recriminations. Not again.
Only when the shower stopped did she realise he’d moved so he could turn it off, but her relief lasted seconds for he pressed his lips to her forehead before pulling out of her and getting to his feet.
Cold at the abrupt loss of his heat and suddenly self-conscious of her nakedness, she pressed her thighs together and twisted away, afraid to look at him.
Becky heard him walk away and squeezed her eyes shut. She must not cry. Not until she was in the privacy of her own room with the door locked.
She kept them closed even when she heard his footsteps near her again, bracing herself.
A hand slid between her back and the tiled wall and gently pulled her forward, then the softest, warmest, fluffiest towel was wrapped around her. Strong arms held her securely before she was lifted up and carried effortlessly into the bedroom.
There, Emiliano sat her on the sofa and pressed another kiss to her forehead. ‘Wait one second,’ he murmured in a hoarse voice.
When he returned from the bathroom he’d wrapped a towel around his waist and carried another in his hands. He sat beside her and put the fresh towel against her hair. Working with infinite patience and without a single word being exchanged, he towel-dried it in sections until her chestnut locks no longer dripped everywhere.
Done, he stared at her before placing a finger under her chin and pressing a tender kiss to her mouth.
‘I shall get food. Don’t go anywhere,’ he said in the same hoarse voice.
She nodded, still too choked with emotion to speak.
He disappeared into his dressing room, re-emerging wearing a pair of faded jeans and carrying a maroon towelling robe. He handed it to her with a smile before giving her another kiss and strolling out of the door.
Alone, Becky took a minute to gather herself before slipping into the giant robe. It trailed to her ankles and the sleeves needed rolling three times to stop them dangling past her hands, and yet there was something comforting and intimate in wearing something that was his. Gathering her towels into her arms, she carried them to the bathroom to hang on the towel-warmer, aware with every step of the tenderness between her noodly legs.
She looked in the mirror. The flushed face staring back at her had the dazed look of someone who’d been made love to.
CHAPTER NINE
EMILIANO CARRIED THE tray piled high with food up the stairs, his heart beating more forcefully as he neared his bedroom. He only understood they’d been the beats of dread when he pushed the door open and relief washed through him to find Becky still there and curled up on the sofa. His heart bloomed when she lifted her head and smiled.
‘I bring us a feast,’ he announced as he placed the tray on the low table by the sofa.
Her eyes lit up. ‘Medialunas.’
He grinned and sat beside her. Just in case she was inclined to move away from him, he grabbed her ankles and placed them on his lap, and was gratified when she didn’t resist. ‘Paula told me you have taken a liking to them.’
He’d also filled the tray with the fruits she liked and, after much head scratching, worked out how to make a fresh pot of coffee, which he’d balanced with the rest of the stuff. He could have called Paula or another member of his household staff to do it for him, but he’d had a strange compulsion to do it himself.
‘I could scoff them all day.’
‘I could scoff you all day,’ he replied with a suggestive wink that made her blush.
After the way things had been between them the first time they’d made love, it loosened the knots in his guts to have things back on an even keel with her. Not that things had ever been even as such. Not with Becky. Right from the start there had always been that undercurrent of desire between them which they had both ignored with explosive results, leading to anger and recrimination but always, always, that desire burning brightly, waiting to be unleashed again.
To make her smile, to see her blush, to have her feet resting on his lap as if that was where they belonged...
Taking care not to hurt her feet, he leaned forward to pile a plate of pastries and fruit for her before sorting his own plate out and pouring the coffee.
As he devoured his first medialuna whilst observing Becky’s more delicate approach
, he had to concede this was the lightest he’d felt in a long time, certainly since the party that had seen his world fall apart, possibly even since his adoptive father had died.
‘So, my little microbiologist,’ he said teasingly. ‘Tell me, were you a swot at school?’
Her pink tongue darted to the corner of her mouth and a tiny flake of pastry stuck there disappeared. ‘I was the biggest swot going.’
‘And were you always interested in germs?’
She raised her brows and pulled a bemused face. ‘I wasn’t a complete oddball.’
‘So why specialise in them?’
‘I’d actually intended to do a chemistry degree but I went to a university open day to get a feel for the place and got talking to a student doing a degree in microbiology. It just sounded really exciting so I applied and that was that.’
Now he was the one to pull a bemused face. ‘Germs sounded exciting?’
‘Bacteria, viruses, fungi and protozoa,’ she corrected with a grin that made him want to kiss her until she ran out of air. ‘And yes, it did sound hugely exciting to me—the course, I mean. And the career it could lead to.’
‘And what will you be doing in your new job?’ Privately, he hoped it would be something unimportant and inconsequential, a role she could turn her back on to spend her life with him. And their baby, of course, he quickly reminded himself.
She stretched her ankles and wiggled her pretty toes. ‘I’ll be joining a team working on inhibiting efflux pumps.’
‘And they are...?’ He did his best to sound interested but internally he was already partying in his head, celebrating that it did indeed sound unimportant and inconsequential.
‘Think of them as naturally occurring minuscule pumps that sit on bacterial cells sucking out toxic substances. When you take antibiotics for infections, they’re the blighters sucking out the antibiotics from inside the cells, essentially booting out the cure before it can get to work. If we can inhibit the efflux pumps then it will reduce the bacteria’s ability to boot out the antibiotics and, hopefully, make the antibiotics effective again.’
The internal partying came to an abrupt halt. That did not sound either unimportant or inconsequential. Damn it.
‘Think of the implications if we’re successful,’ she said quietly, her eyes holding his. ‘It’s not just humans that will benefit but the animal world too. Antibiotics are becoming less effective for all creatures. Horses too.’
And didn’t he know it. Emiliano spent a small fortune vaccinating his horses and taking all the other preventative measures available to keep them free from disease but not everything could be prevented. In his world there was much awareness and fear of antibiotic resistance.
How the hell was he going to convince her to put work of such importance to one side and join him on the polo circuit with their child, to marry him, to be a family, without sounding like a selfish oaf?
The answer came to him. It would be done carefully. With stealth.
Taking her empty plate, he placed it on the table and exchanged it for her coffee. ‘What’s the maternity package at your company like?’ he asked casually.
She took a sip of the coffee and wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t know. It’s in the company handbook but that’s in England with the rest of my stuff. I’ll read up on it when I go back next week.’
‘You don’t have to go back so soon.’ He seized the open goal with gusto. ‘Why not stay until your new job starts?’ That would give him a few extra precious weeks to work his magic. For good measure he added, ‘You can help me select your replacement.’
‘I can’t. I’ve got too much to organise.’
‘Such as?’
‘For a start, I need to buy furniture for my flat. And cooking utensils, crockery... You name it, I need to buy it.’
‘I will get them for you.’
‘No.’
‘Yes,’ he countered firmly. ‘And when you say flat, do you mean something small and poky?’
‘Compared to the homes you’re used to then yes, but for a normal person it’s fine.’
‘How about for a normal person with child?’
‘I’ll manage.’
‘No, bomboncita, you won’t but we have plenty of time to sort that. The most pressing thing for now is to get your flat furnished. I will take you shopping tomorrow. You can choose whatever you want and I’ll have it couriered to England and installed in the flat for when you return. Problem solved, see? You can stay here longer.’
Becky narrowed her eyes. His generosity didn’t surprise her—Emiliano was unfailingly generous—but, even though her heart sang loudly to think of staying another three weeks with him, she had to be practical and not look at things with sex-sated eyes. Emiliano never did anything that wasn’t to his own advantage. ‘Don’t bulldoze me,’ she warned.
‘It is not bulldozing,’ he said with a disappointed tut. ‘It is using my wealth to my own advantage to keep you in my bed for as long as I can.’
She almost laughed at this admittance so closely following her private thoughts. ‘What do you mean by in your bed?’
‘You’re moving in here with me,’ he told her cheerfully. ‘And do not argue. If you won’t move your stuff over, I’ll do it myself.’
She finished her coffee, her brain racing. She got why he wanted her to stay longer but it hadn’t occurred to her that he would actually want her to share his private space with him, even if only on a semi-permanent basis. From all the gossip she’d heard from the grooms, who got all their titbits from his various household staff across the globe, Emiliano had an aversion to women spending more than a night with him. It was a standing joke that come the morning, he would offer them breakfast and then a taxi. It was the standing joke that had made her determined never to act on her attraction to him.
‘You want me to share your bedroom while I’m here?’ she clarified, in case her thoughts had gone a little too wayward.
He held his hand out for her mug. ‘What I want is for you to get it into your clever head that you and I are together.’
Her heart jumped so hard that if the mug she placed in his waiting hand had been full it would have spilt all over him.
‘Together?’ she echoed faintly.
‘A couple.’ He put the mug on the table then put his hands back on her ankles and pulled her flat. His eyes gleamed as he stared down at her. ‘Change your social media settings to “In a Relationship.”’
‘I’m not on social media.’
He slipped a hand in the gaping front of his robe, still wrapped around her, and cupped a fabulously full breast. ‘But you are in a relationship, so get used to it. You are my woman and I am your man and together we will find a solution to raise our child together.’
‘Emiliano...’ She sighed, torn between wanting to move his hand away so she could think properly and wanting him to carry on his wonderful caress. ‘I said I didn’t want to marry you.’
‘Who said anything about marriage?’ he asked with an innocent look that immediately made her think he was lying. ‘I just think we owe it to our baby to try. Or do you disagree?’
Before she could answer, he dipped his head and took a nipple in his mouth.
Her sigh this time was one of pleasure, a sigh that turned into a moan when he pulled the robe apart completely to kiss and caress her other breast, hazily aware he was tugging his jeans down at the same time. She sank into the pleasure he was giving and groped for him, clutching at his hair, a deep ache between her legs which he gently parted as he kissed his way back up to her neck and nestled himself between.
His erection pressed at the top of her thigh as his face hovered over hers, brown eyes gleaming with lust. Those sensual lips would have fused against hers if she hadn’t finally found the sense to turn her face.
‘I don’t want to be rushed into anything,’ she manag
ed to say breathlessly, even though he’d slid a finger inside her and her pelvis had arched into his hand in automatic response. ‘You’re like a bulldozer when you want something.’
His thumb pressed against her nub, making her gasp. ‘All I’m asking is for you to give us a chance.’
She turned her face back to gaze into his eyes and found her back arching so her breasts could press against his chest. ‘Only if you promise to be faithful.’
‘I will be faithful for as long as we’re together,’ he promised solemnly, slowly moving his hand away and pressing his erection to her. ‘Now will you agree to move your stuff into my room?’
‘Why do I feel like I’m being manipulated?’
He slid deep inside her with a long drawn out groan. ‘Because, bomboncita, you’re a very clever woman.’
‘It is what?’
‘A slow cooker,’ Becky explained with a patience she was fast losing.
‘How does it work?’
She shook her head, amusement suddenly replacing the exasperation. Every kitchen item she’d looked at in the Trapani Department Store Emiliano had brought her to had been met with questions. It was like going shopping with an overly curious toddler. Except Emiliano was a fully-grown man who’d never cooked a meal in his life. ‘It cooks food slowly. It means I can chuck stuff in it before I go to work and then it will be all cooked and delicious when I get home.’
‘I’ll hire you a chef.’
‘I don’t need a chef. I need a slow cooker.’ And she needed to find a way to at least contribute towards all the stuff he was buying for her.
If she’d realised he was taking her to a department store that only catered for the filthy rich she’d have insisted on going to one that catered for the opposite end of the financial spectrum. It wasn’t until she’d sat on a sofa so comfortable she imagined it was used up in heaven and then looked at the price tag and almost had a heart attack that she’d understood just how astronomically expensive it all was here. She’d jumped off it and was on the hunt for a cheaper one—fat chance, she’d quickly learned—when Emiliano had appeared at her side and smugly told her it was hers. When she’d tried to get around his generosity by refusing to look at bedroom furniture, he’d fixed her with a look and said if she didn’t choose stuff for herself, he would choose for her. When she’d then begged him to take her somewhere cheaper, he’d fixed her with that same look and said, ‘I will not have the mother of my child putting up with second-rate stuff when I can afford the best.’
The Cost Of Claiming His Heir (The Delgado Inheritance, Book 2) Page 9
