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Pleasure slipped through him and he blinked the rest of the drowsiness away, placing his arm around her lower back to draw her closer. It seemed natural waking next to her. Having her lush, hot body warming his.
She let out a soft sigh and tilted her head back, an unintentional offering of her mouth to him. And who was he to decline such a tempting invitation?
Lowering his head, he brushed his lips against hers, needing just a quick taste. She was soft and sweet, just like the moan she emitted at his caress.
His blood quickened and he deepened the kiss, parting her lips with his own to explore the temptation inside. He thrilled when she responded. Twisting her body until she was nearly on top of him and returning his kiss.
Dios, but he wanted her. Over the summer he’d experienced pleasure with her that was unmatched in any of his previous partners, a soul-deep connection that seemed far too intense to be healthy. And yet he couldn’t fight it. Would never be able to. And for over two months now he had gone without a woman’s touch, had lain in his bed and fantasized about their one passionate night together.
Now she was here in his bed, her body willing in his arms. Chloe was his. He’d been a fool to let her walk away, no matter her transgressions. Their passion had been real over the summer.
Cristo, he would wait no longer.
Andrés gave a soft growl low in his throat and tugged his shirt off of her. Then he rolled her onto her back, covering her body with his own.
Chapter 7
This simply had to be the most realistic dream yet.
Chloe moaned and kissed Andrés back, flicking her tongue against his more boldly than she could ever recall being. She didn’t want to wake up from the sensuality. Didn’t want to open her eyes to discover the wonderful weight of Andrés’s body wasn’t on top of her.
Even after hating him for his horrible treatment of her, she’d spent months wanting him. Tossing and turning in her bed at night, only to have sensual dreams of him when she did fall asleep.
But never were the dreams this vivid, this real. When his hands cupped her breasts, she gasped and arched into him, electric tingles shooting over her nerve endings. She writhed beneath him, begging him for more and to never stop.
“Sí, cariño. I will give you more,” he made the husky promise. “Anything you want, Chloe.”
His mouth covered one taut nipple and then the other, drawing upon them and spilling heat between her thighs.
So good. The dream was so good this time. So real. She thrust her hands into his hair and lifted her hips against his, needing him to touch her, to bring her release.
Rough hands caught her panties and plucked them from her body. Then his skilled fingers slipped between her legs. Stroking her, penetrating her, pushing her higher to the peak of pleasure.
Andrés’s strong, masculine thighs parted hers, and a moment later his thick erection probed the tender flesh between her legs.
Alarm bells went off in her head. No, it was too real. Her subconscious screamed for her to wake up, to end this dream.
She let her lashes flutter open…just as Andrés thrust into her. Her body bowed as shock ripped through her, mingling with a pleasure so intense it threatened to undo her. Awake. It was real.
“Andrés,” she whispered thickly, trying to shake her head.
“Yes, Chloe, say my name.” His gaze was hot enough to burn the depths of her soul. “Ah, cariño.” He sank another inch into her body, causing her to cry out with sensation.
She reached out to push him off her, but starving desire made her dig her nails into his shoulders instead. She lifted her hips to bring him deeper, her heart pounding as if she’d run a marathon. The blood in her veins sizzled with heat and need. And yet still, her mind wanted to fight it. To fight the consuming passion that ensnared both of them. “Please…we shouldn’t.”
“We should, cariño.” He began to ride her and when she moaned low in her throat, triumph flickered his eyes.
And then the pleasure consumed her, robbing her ability to want anything but him to continue. Wanting for him to fill that hollow ache that had existed since they’d been apart. She was back in Spain. In Andrés’ arms and his bed, and no matter how much she wanted to resent him, she couldn’t. Chloe gave a sob of pleasure and surrendered herself to him—body, mind, and soul.
She followed his rhythm, her moans mingling with his. He moved deep inside her, deeper than seemed possible. Her chest tightened and she gasped in air. Each thrust he made spun her pleasure higher and higher, until it toppled over and she was flying. She clutched him and gasped while he found his own release.
When she could finally breathe and the pleasure had faded to delicious tingles, she found herself cradled in his arms, Andrés lying on his side now.
His lips brushed against her cheek as he stroked a hand possessively down her back. “I think you will be happy here, cariño,” he murmured softly against her ear. “If you would just let yourself be.”
A wave of cold reality flushed through her at his words. Replacing the pleasure and soft aftermath of his lovemaking.
How could she have forgotten everything so quickly? Andrés had vowed to have her back in his bed, and he’d gotten exactly what he wanted.
Last night she’d gone to sleep both jealous and hurt, knowing he wasn’t coming home to be with her. That he was instead staying in the city. She’d been tormented with the image of him in bed with another woman, picturing the glamorous girls she’d seen on his arms in the tabloids.
And then it seemed he’d returned, after God knew where he’d been, and decided to take her. And she’d let him. She’d had no willpower to push him away, had clung to him like her life depended on it, begging him to make love to her.
But this wasn’t about love or romance. It was about control and lust. Andrés might call it making love, but she knew better. It was sex to him. It would always be sex. Her stomach clenched with the realization.
How could she possibly live like this?
“Please, Andrés, let me go home.” The plea spilled from Chloe’s lips before she could stop it. “I promise I’ll keep you involved with the baby’s progress.”
She knew he was angry by the immediate tension in his body, the way he stopped stroking her back but tightened his hand on her spine, keeping her firmly against him.
“I have made myself clear,” he said quietly and lifted his head to look into her eyes. His gaze was hard, with no traces of passion left, but a hint of frustration she knew he wouldn’t want her to see. “You will be well taken care of here, as was clearly demonstrated yesterday morning with Dr. Flores.”
“Andrés—”
“What more can I offer you?”
“You’re not offering me anything,” she cried, not caring if he saw the sheen of tears. “Can’t you see that? You’re taking. You don’t seem to give a damn what I want.”
His jaw clenched. “And what is it you want? I’ve offered marriage.”
“I don’t want a marriage without love,” she blurted and bit her cheek. Jeez, why hadn’t she held her tongue?
His expression became shuttered. The hand on her back moved up and into her hair. “I see,” he said flatly. “You want the one thing I will never be able to give you.”
Chloe flinched and struggled to breathe against the tears that were thick in her throat. Never be able to give her. Her stomach rolled violently. She tried to pull away, but he held her still. “Release me,” she muttered.
“If you would simply—”
“Release me, Andrés!” She used all her strength to jerk from his embrace, pressing her hand to her mouth. She stumbled from the bed and ran to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before she got sick.
A moment later she heard the door open and bit back a curse when Andrés crossed the large bathroom to crouch down beside her.
Oh, God, why hadn’t she locked the door? As if her humiliation wasn’t enough at being told he would never love her, now Andrés was going to hold her hair back while she dealt with morning sickness?
But he did, rubbing her back and murmuring soft words until she was finished. Then, mortified and weak to her core, Chloe waited until he’d left to curl up and cry.
Cristo, he was a complete bastard. Andrés paced his bedroom and cast another glance at the closed bathroom door.
Chloe had been in the bath he’d drawn for her for the last half hour. He’d left her in the bathroom after she’d recovered, giving her the privacy she’d obviously wanted but was too proud to ask for.
Had he upset her so much she’d gotten sick over it? Or was it the pregnancy? It didn’t matter which it was—the guilt still stabbed deeply.
After he’d told her he could never love her, her eyes had filled with disappointment and anger, but it was better than the tears he’d seen moments prior.
