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Her mouth opened. Cesar saw small, even white teeth. Her tongue-tip pink. She said, ‘I...’ and then stopped.
Just that one tiny word had been uttered in a husky voice, making Cesar’s whole body tighten with a need that was unprecedented.
Sliding his fingers further around her jaw to the back of her neck, silky hair tickling his hand, Cesar tugged her into him and after a minute hesitation she came, stumbling ever so slightly. All he knew, once he felt the barest whisper of a touch of her body to his, was that he couldn’t hold back now even if a thousand men tried to stop him.
He lowered his head and his mouth touched hers, and all that sweet, soft voluptuousness pierced him right to the centre of his being, and threw him into the pit of a fire of lust so strong it obliterated everything he knew, or thought he knew.
Cesar felt her hands clutching at him, grabbing his shirt. Any resistance vanished when her mouth opened under his, and his arms tightened around her as his hungry tongue thrust into that hot, moist cavern.
However sweet that first initial taste had been, it turned to pure sin. Decadent and rich. Her tongue was sharp and smooth, teasing. Stoking his levels of arousal so that every bit of blood seemed to be rushing to the centre of his body, making that shaft of flesh lengthen and stiffen painfully.
Moving his hands to her waist, encircling it, Cesar almost groaned aloud when he felt his fingers meet. That evidence of her intense femininity pushed his body over the edge, made it betray him as if he were an over-sexed teenager.
He could feel her chest, struggling with constricted breath, moving up and down rapidly. Blood surging anew, Cesar lifted a hand and dragged it up between their bodies, itching to touch that smooth pale skin.
When he came into contact with the swell of one breast his body pulsed with a need that shocked him. He broke the contact of their mouths for a moment, resting his forehead against hers, overwhelmed at the strength of his desire.
‘Please...’
Her voice sounded even huskier...needy. The way he felt. He needed this woman now. Needed to free himself and lift up her skirts and plunge right into the centre of that taut, smooth body. To feel her legs wrap around him.
On some very dim and distant level Cesar was aware that he had become animalistic. Reduced to the cravings and needs of a base animal in an effort to achieve a kind of satisfaction he’d never anticipated before.
But that still couldn’t stop him. Not after that husky please had filled the space between them.
Branding her mouth with his again, the kiss was open-mouthed and carnal. Electrifying.
In the act of lifting up her skirts, almost desperate now, Cesar jerked and flinched when a flash of light seemed to illuminate the world for a second. Like the crack of a whip. Shattering the heady moment.
Lifting his head from where their mouths were welded together, Cesar could only see two huge pools of blue, ringed by long black lashes. That plump mouth was pink. He could feel her chest moving against his.
Then there was another flash, and a rapid jarring, clicking sound. He flinched again. Some vague notion of reality and sanity returned from a long distance. He turned his head, but it was the hardest thing to do—to look away from that face. Those eyes.
He saw a man standing at the entrance of the stables holding a camera up to his face. It was the equivalent of having a bucket of cold water thrown over him. Suddenly reality was back.
Cesar straightened up. Instinctively he pushed the woman behind him as he snarled at the man who was backing away, still shooting, ‘Get out of here. Now.’ One of Cesar’s grooms appeared near the door and he rapped out at him, ‘Get Security now—and get that man’s camera.’
But the photographer had disappeared, and even though Cesar’s groom darted away after him Cesar had the sinking feeling it would be too late. He’d reacted too late himself.
Becoming aware of rapid harsh breathing behind him, Cesar turned around.
And almost fell into the pit again when he saw those huge blue eyes staring up at him and that body which made him ache.
But reality had intruded. This woman was no apparition or ghost. She was flesh and blood, and he had just lost his legendary control spectacularly. Dios, had he gone mad?
Accusingly, Cesar asked, ‘Who the hell are you?’
* * *
Lexie Anderson was barely aware of the sharp accusation in the deep, deliciously accented voice. She couldn’t seem to get enough breath into her challenged lungs to speak. All she could ask herself was: what the hell had just happened?
She remembered wandering away from the camera tests while they set up the lights and finding these quiet stables. She loved horses, so she had come in to investigate.
Then the peace had been shattered when this man had appeared in the courtyard on a huge black stallion. He’d swung down off the horse’s back and from that moment on everything had got a little hazy.
Lexie had been mesmerised by his powerful physique and the play of muscles under his close-fitting polo top and jodhpurs as he’d tended to the horse. And that had been before she’d seen his face properly. When he’d heard her and turned around.
He was stunning. Beautiful. But with a masculine edge that made ‘beautiful’ sound too...pretty. He was hard. Edgy. Dark. Messy dark blond hair. A sensually sculpted mouth surrounded by stubble shadowing a very masculine jaw.
But it was his eyes that rendered Lexie a bit stupid and mute even now, as he waited for her reply. They were green—unusual and stark against dark olive skin. Not hazel, or golden, or light green. Something between all three. Unnerving. Mesmerising.
And he smelled of man. Sweat and musk and heat. Along with something tangy. Woodsy.
Lexie shook her head, as if that might make all this disappear. Maybe she was having some bizarre dream. Because she knew that what had just happened was unprecedented. She did not react to complete strangers by letting them kiss her, or by feeling as if she’d die if they didn’t keep kissing her.
She remembered his big hands around her waist, then reaching under her skirts to pull them up, and how she’d burned between her legs for him to touch her there.
Now was most definitely not the time to be assimilating that cataclysmic information.
‘I’m...’ She stopped, her tongue feeling heavy in her mouth. She tried again. ‘I’m Lexie Anderson. I’m with the film.’
Lexie’s face burned when she realised exactly how she was dressed, and how this man’s eyes had widened when he’d seen her. Belatedly self-conscious, she went to cross her arms but realised the corset only made things worse—especially when those green eyes dropped to her heaving flesh again.
Feeling trapped now—literally backed into a corner—and not liking it, Lexie forced her legs to move, wobbly as they were, and stepped cautiously around him.
He turned to face her. Eyes cool, unreadable. Hands clenched into fists by his sides. ‘You’re Lexie Anderson...the lead actress?’
She nodded.
He looked at her, his eyes no longer unreadable now. Angry. ‘And how did you get in here?’
She blinked, not understanding for a moment. ‘I didn’t see any sign or a gate...I just saw the horses—’
‘It’s off-limits here. You should leave—now.’
Anger gripped Lexie. She’d just behaved in a way that was completely out of character. The last thing she needed was to feel the lash of his censure. Stiffly, she replied, ‘I didn’t realise this was off-limits. If you can tell me how to get back to the unit base, I’ll happily leave.’
His voice was harsh, curt. ‘Turn left. It’s at the end of the lane and to your right.’
Seething inwardly now, because she had been overcome by the first rush of physical desire she’d ever felt, and it had been for some anonymous person who worked at the castle and not even someone she knew or who was particularly charming, Lexie stalked off, tense as a board.
Then she heard the man curse and he commanded, ‘Wait. Stop.’
Lexie stopped, breathing hard, and turned reluctantly again, rigid with tension.
He walked towards her, his movements powerfully agile, and she stepped back. His eyes flashed but she just tipped up her chin. What was wrong with her judgement? There wasn’t anything remotely forgiving or alluring about this man. He was all hard edges and brooding energy.
He looked grim. ‘That was a paparazzo. He got our picture.’
She’d forgotten. Her brain was refusing to work properly. Lexie could feel her blood draining south. The man must have feared she was about to faint or something, because he took her arm and none too gently drew her over to a haystack by the entrance, where he all but pushed her down onto it.
She ripped her arm free and glared up at him, hating the betraying quiver in her belly at his touch. ‘There’s no need to manhandle me. I’m perfectly fine.’
As if to confirm her worst suspicions, the young groom came running back, his face red.
‘Well?’ barked the man.
Lexie felt like standing up and telling him to go and take out his aggression on someone his own size, but she was disgusted to feel that her legs might not hold her up.
‘Señor Da Silva...’
The groom spoke quickly after that, in incomprehensible Spanish, but Lexie was now gaping at the tall, angry man who was answering equally gutturally and quickly, making the groom turn puce and rush off again.
Lexie was too shocked to care for the groom’s welfare any more. He turned back to her and she said faintly, ‘You’re Cesar Da Silva...?’
‘Yes.’
He didn’t seem to be too thrilled she’d made the connection. She’d thought he was a worker! Lexie hadn’t recognised him as the owner of this entire estate because he was famously reclusive. Also, she’d never expected the Cesar Da Silva to be so young and gorgeous.
She had to will down her mortification when she thought of how she’d been all but crawling all over him like a hungry little kitten only minutes before. Begging. ‘Please.’
Oh, God.
She stood up. She had to get out of here. This was not her. She’d been invaded by some kind of body-snatcher.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’
Lexie looked at him. Anger flashed up again—at him and herself. She put her hands on her hips. ‘You just told me to leave, didn’t you? So I’m leaving.’
She moved around him again, towards the entrance, relieved that her legs were working.
‘Wait.’
Lexie stopped and sighed heavily, turned around. She arched a brow, hiding how damn intimidating she thought he was. ‘What now?’
He couldn’t have looked more stern. ‘That photographer got away. My groom saw him get into a car before any of the security guards could be alerted. I would imagine that right about now he’s emailing pictures of us to any number of agencies around the world.’
Lexie felt sick. She felt even sicker to think that she was potentially going to be splashed across the tabloids again. And with Cesar Da Silva, one of the most reclusive billionaires in the world. It would be a sensation and it was the last thing she needed—more intense media interest.
She bit her lip. ‘This isn’t good.’
‘No,’ Da Silva agreed, ‘it’s not. I have no desire to become the centre of some grubby little tabloid sensation.’
Lexie glared at him, incensed. ‘Well, neither do I.’ She pointed a finger at him. ‘And you kissed me.’
‘You didn’t stop me,’ he shot back. ‘And what were you doing in here anyway?’
Lexie burned. No, she hadn’t stopped him. Anything but. She’d been caught up in a dreamlike state of...hot insanity.
‘I told you.’ Her voice was stiff, with the full ramifications of what had happened sinking in. ‘I saw the stables, I wanted to see the horses... We’re doing camera tests with Make-up and Wardrobe, and while they were setting up the lighting...’
She tensed as realisation hit.
‘The camera tests! I have to go back—they’ll be looking for me.’
Lexie went to rush off, but her arm was caught by a big hand. She turned and gritted her jaw. Those green eyes were like burning gems in his spectacular face. His hand on her arm was hot.
‘This isn’t over—’
Just then a PA rushed into the yard, breathless. ‘Lexie, there you are. We’ve been looking all over for you. They’re ready to shoot again.’
Lexie pulled free of Cesar Da Silva’s grip. She could see his irritation at the interruption but she was glad, needing to get away from his disturbing presence and so she could try to assimilate what had just happened.
Lexie tore her gaze from his and hurried after the officious PA, who was speaking into the walkie-talkie microphone that came out of her sleeve near her wrist. Lexie heard her saying, ‘Found her...coming now...one minute...’
Her head was reeling. She felt as if in the space of just that last...fifteen minutes?...her entire world had been altered in some very fundamental way.
She’d let that man...who had been a complete stranger...walk up to her and kiss her. Without a second’s hesitation. And not just kiss her...devour her. And she’d kissed him back.
She could still feel that dizzying, rushing sweep of desire like a wave through her body. Impossible to ignore or deny. Immediate. All-consuming.
It was crazy, but she’d felt protected by his much larger bulk when he’d put her behind him as soon as he’d seen the paparazzo. Lexie wasn’t used to feeling tiny, or in need of protection, even though she was physically small at five foot two. She’d been standing up for herself for so long now that she wasn’t usually taken unawares in a situation like that. It sent a shiver of unease through her.
The photographer.
She felt sick again. Memories of lurid headlines and pictures rose up. Before she could dwell on it though, they’d entered the yard where the camera tests were taking place and everyone snapped to attention as soon as she appeared.
The cameraman beckoned her over. ‘Right, Lexie, we need you over here on your mark, please.’
* * *
Cesar paced back and forth in his office, behind his desk. If it were at all possible his black mood had just become even blacker. Like a living, seething thing crackling around him. He had a file open on his desk and there were clippings and pictures strewn across it.
It was a file on Lexie Anderson. And it was not pretty.
One of the film assistants had furnished Cesar’s office with files on everyone involved in the film. As much for security purposes as for a little general knowledge about the cast and crew. He hadn’t even looked at them before now, because he hadn’t been interested.
The files generally just held people’s CVs. Except for Lexie’s file. Her file was fat, not only with her CV, covering work which consisted mainly of TV and some indie movies before she’d shot to stardom via some vacuous-looking action movies, but also with numerous clippings from papers and magazines.
There were pictures of her, scantily clad, for a lads’ magazine some years previously. One image showed her posing as some sort of half-dressed cheerleader, in nothing but thigh-high socks, knickers and a cardigan, teasingly open just enough to show off the voluptuous swells of her breasts and the sensual curve of her tiny waist. Her hair was down and tumbling sexily over her shoulders.
It was exactly the kind of image that Cesar found a complete turn-off, but right now he was having to battle with his own body to stop it responding as helplessly as if he were an over-sexed teenager all over again.
Cesar cursed and picked up the picture, throwing it aside. It fluttered to the floor. She was an actress. That was what she did.
But much worse than that were the more recent pictures and headlines: Luscious Lexie—Homewrecker! The tabloids had indulged in a feeding frenzy because she had been involved with a married actor who had subsequently left his heartbroken wife and children. He and Lexie weren’t together now, though. According to the salacious copy, once he’d left his wife, heartless Lexie hadn’t been interested any more.
Cesar knew that he couldn’t have cared less what any lead actress got up to in her spare time, or with whom. But he’d kissed this woman in a moment of extreme madness only a short time before.
