HE BURST INTO FLAMES. His body hardened everywhere as he crushed her against him, running his tongue along the seam of her lips, demanding entry. She gasped, opened beneath him, moaning as he tasted her.
Their lips fused together as he sat down on the chaise, stretched out with her body clutched against his. His hand slid under her shirt. Her mouth opened on a gasp as he cupped her swollen breast. He teased her by tracing his tongue over her lips as his fingers plucked at her nipple.
Until she nearly undid him by grabbing the back of his head and crushing his lips to hers, slipping her own tongue inside in a brazen, seductive move that made him so hard it almost hurt.
Dios, she was incredible. Fiery, strong, fearless. He couldn’t get enough of her, needed more. He pulled her shirt up, the cup of her bra down and sucked her nipple into his mouth.
“Alejandro!”
A tiny thread of sanity pushed through, whispering that they could be discovered at any moment. But he didn’t care. This was his yacht and she was his. His, and he couldn’t have stopped touching her even if he wanted to.
He reached down as he continued to kiss and suck her breasts, bunched up the material of her skirt until his fingertips met the bare skin of her thigh. She arched against him and—querido Dios—he could feel the heat of her core against his erection straining against his jeans.
“Alejandro...”
Hearing her name tumble from his lips drove him mad. He tore his mouth from her breast, trailed kisses over her cheek and down her neck. With a quick yank, her skirt ended up around her waist and he peeled away her panties.
Her red, lacy panties that made him so hot with desire it was all he could do to keep himself from stripping them both naked and making love to her right then and there on the sundeck.
“I just...they’re not...” She stumbled over her words, withdrawing into herself. “I don’t—”
He tucked the panties into his pocket, rolled and laid her beneath him. Then he pulled her skirt up and placed his mouth on her. She arched, thrusting her hips against him as he tasted her sweetness.
“Alejandro!”
She was liquid fire in his arms. Stripped bare of not just the unexpected lingerie but all her defenses. He looked up, caught her gaze in his and watched as her eyes flamed molten silver as his tongue danced over her most sensitive skin. Knowing that he had been her first, that he was her only, made his fingers tighten on her thighs as he upped his sensual assault. A maddening urge drove him onward as he used the cues of her body—the hitch in her breathing, the clench of her thighs, the arch of her back—to guide his lovemaking and ensure she never even entertained the thought of sharing her body with another man.
Just the idea of another man touching her, let alone engaging in this kind of intimacy, made him see red. Jealousy like he’d never known before shot through his veins and he buried his face between her legs, savored the sound of her crying out his name.
Mine, mine, mine, an inner beast roared.
Her fingers tangled in his hair. He paused. He hadn’t planned on ravishing her like this, of being brought to the edge of his control. It would be a very long night, but if she wanted him to stop, he would.
And then her fingers tightened and she spread her thighs even more with a whispered “Please” that made his blood boil. He licked her, kissed, nibbled, experimented with what made her whimper, what made her gasp, what made her demand more.
Her thighs clenched. Her breathing grew more frantic, her hips thrusting harder. He buried his tongue inside her as he envisioned what it would be like to finally sheath himself inside her tight wetness again.
She exploded, writhing against the chaise as he kissed her most vulnerable spot, made love to her with his tongue until she collapsed, body shuddering, fingers still tangled in his hair but limp.
He stretched out next to her, tugging her skirt back into place as he cradled her body against his. She leaned into his embrace, her head resting on his shoulder.
Something sparked inside him. Not just the lust that was roaring through his veins, not the desire that was tightening his chest until he thought he would explode if he couldn’t feel her luscious body wrapped around him.
No, this was something else. A protectiveness, a need to not only claim her body with his own but to keep her safe. To wipe away whatever pain had fueled the defenses she normally kept in place with icy precision.
Slowly, she raised her head. Her eyes glowed silver under the light of the stars. Luminous, bright with satisfaction and...
Fear. He saw the fear flickering deep in the gray depths, felt her uncertainty as her hands rested on his shoulders.
“Calandra, what just happened—”
“Can’t happen again.”
Her words stopped him cold. “What?”
It almost hurt to watch the change that came over her. The coldness that eclipsed the lingering passion in her eyes. The straightening of her shoulders as she pulled away from him. The firming of her lips as she stood, smoothed her skirt and sat down on the other chaise.
That a woman could box him up and push away so neatly after such a heated, passionate encounter—in the middle of the damned ocean—and then react with all the cool efficiency of a military general rubbed him raw.
That that woman was also carrying his child made the wound especially grievous.
“I’m sorry, Alejandro. I kissed you first and started our...that is—”
“Our lovemaking?”
He hadn’t thought it possible, but her face grew harder.
“Don’t call it that.”
If he hadn’t just held her in his arms, felt her come apart beneath his lips, he would never have thought the ice queen sitting before him capable of the passion she’d just displayed.
But she had. Others might confuse this withdrawal for her being rude, or even a “stone-cold bitch,” as he’d heard one waiter snap at an event when Calandra had taken him to task for showing up late in wrinkled clothing. Was he the only one who had glimpsed her pain? The only one who had seen her staunch loyalty to those she believed in, like Suzie and her culinary students?
“What would you like me to call it?”
“A mistake.”
It wasn’t just his pride that she hurt. No, those two words crawled beneath his skin and lodged somewhere near his heart, seeping into his body with a black, poisonous pain that made him question himself.
Not enough. He’d wondered over the years what it would be like to surrender his playboy image, to settle into a relationship. Most marriages in his world were power plays. But that hadn’t stopped the curiosity, nor the loneliness that sometimes invaded after he left yet another bed at the crack of dawn. A hell of his own making, but one that had grown tiresome.
Yet he’d never wanted to risk trying. Who was he without his money, his power, his reputation? The women who had expected more from him hadn’t wanted him. They’d wanted his lifestyle, possessions, notoriety.
Until Calandra. The woman who had given herself to him, then turned around and presented him with yet another gift. Who made him want more, to be more.
And then crushed him before he could even try.
He smiled, the distant smile he’d perfected over the years. She blinked, some of the glacial condemnation slipping from her face.
“Alejandro, I—”
“You’re absolutely right.” He nodded at the lights of Marseille on the horizon. “I might enjoy seducing women all over the world, but on the deck of a ship when we could have been caught was crass to say the least.”
She started to reach out, to settle her fingers on his arm, but he stood and stepped out of reach.
“I hope this incident hasn’t ruined my chances of being involved with our child.”
She shook her head. Her eyes gleamed, and for a moment his commitment wavered. Were those tears?
Doesn’t matter.
“No. And I’m sorry, Alejandro.”
He bowed his head before she could say anything else. “Me, too. I took advantage of you.”
“No!”
“Yes. It won’t happen again.” He turned and walked away. She’d done it to him twice now. Once in New York, and once on the deck of his own yacht.
It probably made him cruel, no better than his father. But he couldn’t stop the grim satisfaction that settled in his bones as his footsteps carried him farther away from the one woman who he had realized, too late, held too much power over him.
A positive of his facade. When he hurt, when he felt too much, he could pull the mantle of his pretense around him like a shield and distract himself with the vices he’d indulged in over the years.
For tonight, at least, the vices would keep the heart-wrenching pain at bay.