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Idiot. He needed to remember she didn’t speak Catalan. ‘I said,’ he translated softly, ‘you’re beautiful.’ He stole another kiss. ‘You should know, I don’t make a habit of this.’
‘Neither do I.’
‘I didn’t think you did.’
She swallowed hard. ‘And there’s something else you should know. I’m a bit out of practice.’
She didn’t say so aloud, but he could read it in her eyes—she was worried that she’d disappoint him.
He smiled and rubbed the pad of his thumb along her lower lip. ‘That isn’t a problem. I have a feeling that this is going to be good—for both of us.’
CHAPTER THREE
LEANDRO took Becky’s hand and led her to the stairs. Then he stopped, looked at her, said something in rapid Catalan and scooped her up with one hand under her knees and the other round her waist. She slid her arms round his neck for balance, and he carried her up the stairs as if she were a slender five-foot waif instead of curvy and five feet seven.
It should’ve felt macho and offputting.
Instead, it sent a kick of desire through her. That this gorgeous man wanted her so much he couldn’t wait to carry her to his bed.
He pushed the door open with his foot, then set her back down on her feet next to the bed before going over to the window and closing the curtains.
Tonight she was acting out of character, but she wasn’t going to be completely reckless. ‘Do you have protection?’
He nodded. ‘I have protection. Not that I was planning this to happen tonight,’ he added. ‘My suggestion of dinner meant just that: dinner.’
‘Think of this an unexpected bonus,’ she said softly.
He walked back over to her and brushed his mouth against hers. ‘For both of us, estimada.’ He switched on the bedside light and came to stand behind her, wrapping his arms round her waist and pulling her back against him. He dipped his head and kissed the nape of her neck. ‘You smell lovely,’ he said softly. ‘Like chocolate.’
And so she should: the expensive bubble bath Tanya had given her for her birthday smelt of chocolate. She felt the warmth of his mouth against her nape again.
‘Mmm. You taste of chocolate, too,’ he murmured. ‘And I’m hungry.’
She knew exactly what he meant. Although they’d just eaten, she too was hungry.
Not for food.
For him.
And the way he was kissing her neck was the most arousing thing she’d ever experienced in her life.
He eased himself away from her for just long enough to undo the zip of her black shift dress. Slowly, so slowly, and his mouth traced a path down her spine as he uncovered her skin. When he reached the fastening of her bra, he unsnapped it, then slid the straps of her dress over her shoulders, drawing the straps of her bra down at the same time. As the fabric fell to her waist, he drew a line of kisses from the curve of her shoulder to the curve of her neck—tiny, open-mouthed kisses that made her want more.
She spun round to face him, letting her dress and her bra fall to the floor. Lord, his mouth was beautiful. If she could sculpt, she’d definitely want him as a model. She reached up on tiptoe and kissed him; as he responded, letting her explore his mouth in turn, she undid the buttons of his shirt and slid her palms across his pectoral muscles.
Perfect musculature.
She kissed her way down his throat, nipping gently and feeling a surge of satisfaction as he couldn’t suppress an ‘oh’ of pleasure.
Half-dressed, he was gorgeous. He had smooth olive skin, with a scattering of dark hair across his chest—enough to be sexy but not so much that it was offputting.
She’d just bet that, at the beach, he turned heads. Of women who wanted to be with him—and men who wanted to be him.
She pushed the material off his shoulders, letting his shirt pool next to her dress on the floor. ‘You’re beautiful,’ she said softly. ‘I take it you work out at the gym?’
‘No.’
She drew her fingertips down his arms. Again, perfect musculature without a hint of flab. ‘You feel like someone who takes care of his body, not a couch potato. So if you don’t go to the gym, you must do some kind of sport.’
He nodded. ‘I run most mornings. And I fence.’
She felt her eye widen. ‘With a sword?’
‘A foil,’ he corrected her.
She could imagine him as a Spanish pirate on a ship, swashbuckling his way through danger. Or even better, in eighteenth-century France with tight black trousers and a ruffled shirt. ‘I can see you as one of the Three Musketeers.’ She slid her fingers though his hair. ‘With long hair, you’d look amazing.’
His eyes glittered with amusement. ‘Gràcies—but I don’t think that would go down too well with my boss.’
‘What do you do?’ she asked, suddenly curious.
He shook his head. ‘I don’t want to talk about work tonight—right now it’s just you and me and I want to make love with you, Becky. I want to kiss you. Now.’
She tipped her head back slightly in invitation, and he wasn’t slow to take her up on it. His mouth was warm and strong against hers, and his tongue slid into her mouth, mirroring the action his body would make later.
I’m kissing a stranger, she thought. One of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever met, one who’s cultured and can dance and cook—but he’s still a total stranger. This is crazy. I really shouldn’t be doing—
Then she stopped thinking as his hands slid up to cup her breasts. When the pads of his thumbs rubbed against her hardened nipples, she gave a sharp intake of breath.
He drew back slightly so he could look her straight in the eye. ‘You like that?’
‘Yes.’
He gave her a lazy grin. ‘Good.’ He repeated the action, and she shivered. But it still wasn’t enough. She wanted more.
As if he could read her thoughts in her eyes, he traced a trail of light, teasing kisses down the sensitive cord at the side of her neck; the caresses turned to hot, open-mouthed kisses against her throat when she arched back and closed her eyes. He moved lower, kissing a line down her sternum, and a pulse beat hard between her legs; the beat grew even stronger when he shifted slightly and drew her nipple into his mouth. As he sucked, she gasped in pleasure, sliding her fingers back into his hair and urging him on.
Becky was past all coherent thought when Leandro dropped to his knees in front of her, removed her tights and stroked her inner thighs until her stance widened, then slid one finger under the edge of her knickers and drew it along the length of her sex. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her inner thigh. If he didn’t touch her properly now, she’d go crazy. Implode.
He pushed one finger inside her, and she couldn’t help crying out.
‘OK?’ he asked softly.
‘N-no.’
To her shock, he removed his hand. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll go into the bathroom and leave you to get dressed. Just give me a few minutes to cool down.’
What? No! That wasn’t what she wanted at all. ‘That isn’t what I meant.’ Her voice was low and breathy and just a little bit fractured.
He frowned. ‘No means no.’
‘I meant, no, I’m not OK. I…’ She took a deep breath. ‘I want more.’
Enlightenment dawned and he gave her a slow, sexy smile. ‘More, hmm? Tell me.’
She felt the colour stain her cheeks. ‘I want you to…to touch me.’
‘Here?’ He stroked the backs of her knees, keeping his gaze trained on hers.
She shivered. ‘North a bit.’
His smile widened and he stroked her inner thighs. ‘Here?’
‘North a bit,’ she said again.
He laughed. ‘You do realise you’re giving me two-dimensional directions?’
‘Then how…?’ She couldn’t think straight.
‘Show me.’ His voice was low and sent heat flickering down her spine. ‘Show me where you want me to touch you.’
Oh, lord. Everything she’d ever heard about Latin lovers was true.
And Leandro Herrera made her blood fizz.
She placed her hand over his and drew it up until he was cupping her sex, still through her knickers. ‘Here.’
‘Just here?’
A tiny murmur of frustration escaped from her. ‘Don’t tease me.’
He smiled. ‘I’m not going to tease you, estimada. I’m going to make love with you. And I want to take it slowly.’ Again, he circumvented her knickers, but this time, instead of pushing a finger inside her, he used his fingertip to brush lightly against her clitoris, skating back and forth until her knees went weak and she grabbed his shoulders with both hands, afraid that she was going to fall over.
‘I’m not going to let you fall,’ he said, guessing her fears. ‘Well, not in that way.’
She closed her eyes as he continued caressing her and the pleasure built higher, higher.
And then he stopped.
She opened her eyes wide and stared at him in disbelief. Why had he stopped now, when she was so near the peak? ‘Leandro?’
‘I want your eyes open,’ he said. ‘I want you to see me. And I want to see your eyes.’ With his free hand, he removed her knickers and looked up at her. ‘Madre de Deu, Becky,’ he said softly. ‘Ets bella. Te desitjo. I want you.’ He punctuated every word with a tiny movement of his hand that had her quivering. Just the right pressure and the right speed.
And then, unbelievably, her climax hit. Wave upon wave of pleasure.
‘Oh-h-h. Leandro. Yes.’
Little aftershocks of pleasure were still rippling through her when he pulled his duvet aside, lifted her, and laid her gently against the pillows.
‘Thank you. That was…’ She couldn’t find the right word. ‘Amazing.’ More than amazing.
He slid her a sultry look. ‘I haven’t finished yet.’
And then she realised he was still wearing his trousers. While she was completely naked. Abandoned.
She felt her eyes widen. ‘You’re—’
He stopped her protest with a kiss. ‘It’s OK. I wanted the first time to be for you. And, as I said, I haven’t finished yet.’
Oh, lord. If he could reduce her to a quivering heap with just one finger, what would it be like when his body finally slid inside hers?
He undressed swiftly. Gracefully—well, as a fencer, of course he’d be graceful. And Becky sucked in a breath as she saw him naked for the first time. ‘You’re perfect.’
‘Gràcies.’
He joined her on the bed and traced the curve of her jaw with a fingertip. ‘And you, too. Curvy, not a stick insect.’ As she instinctively sucked in her stomach, he smiled, leaned over and traced a circle round her navel with the tip of his tongue. ‘I said “curvy”, not “fat”. A real woman. Mateia bella. Very beautiful,’ he translated, rummaging in his bedside drawer for a condom.
He took it out of its foil wrapper, rolled it on, then slid his hand between Becky’s thighs and teased her with his clever fingers until she was quivering again. ‘Now?’ he asked.
‘Oh-h-h. Now. Yes. Please.’ She couldn’t remember the last time she’d wanted a man so much. It had been years.
Leandro knelt between her thighs, gently fitted himself to her entrance and then eased in, in one long, slow thrust.
She’d forgotten how good making love could be. How long had it been?
But, no, she didn’t want the bad memories to seep in and spoil this. Live for the moment, she reminded herself. And this moment was good. Really, really good.
She stroked his back, his buttocks—lord, his gluteal muscles were as perfect as his pectorals—and then, when he ran one hand lightly up her thigh and cupped her buttocks, she wrapped her legs round his waist. Took him deeper.
Every thrust took her nearer and nearer the edge.
‘Look at me, estimada,’ he reminded her softly.
She did. And at the precise moment her climax hit again, she could see it reflected in his own eyes, in the way his pupils dilated until his eyes were almost completely black.
He wrapped his arms round her, holding her close and muttering words in Catalan which she didn’t understand, though his tone told her he was as moved by what had just happened as she was.
Eventually, Leandro withdrew. ‘Excuse me for a moment,’ he said politely.
She knew he needed to deal with the condom, but as he left the room she started to wonder what the protocol was here. She’d never had a one-night stand before. Should she stay or should she leave now?
Just as she was about to get out of bed and find her clothes, so at least she’d be dressed when he came back and wouldn’t feel quite so embarrassed about discussing it, he returned to the room—completely naked and uninhibited by his nudity—smiled at her and joined her in the bed.
‘I’m glad you didn’t decide to go.’ He put his arm round her, drawing her close so her head was resting on his shoulder. ‘I know we said neither of us want a relationship, and that hasn’t changed. But stay with me for a while.’
This was what she’d missed even more than sex.
Being cuddled.
