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Heavens, had she ever done so much walking? They’d explored many places, her favorites being the stunning gothic cathedral and monastery of St Pere de Galligants.
And then in the afternoon they’d enjoyed la comida, or what she’d simply call lunch back home. Only this had been unlike any lunch she’d had. There’d been multiple courses of food. Cheese, vegetables, soup, fish, meat, and finally, the most exquisite flan for dessert.
It had been a wonderful day, and it went far beyond just the sightseeing and dining. It was Andrés himself…he was different. Or no, he was the same man he’d been that first night in Valencia. He’d flirted continuously, treated her with a gentleness that more than once had brought tears to her eyes. He’d acted like a devoted lover, which had thrown her heart into turmoil, and she found herself questioning whether she still wanted to return home to Seattle, even if the opportunity presented itself.
“Are you sure you’re up for this last bit of walking?” Andrés asked softly, concern in his eyes as they moved throughout the city. “We could always put it off for another day. I’m worried that perhaps we’ve done too much. You must tire easier now with the baby—”
“Please, Andrés, I’m fine,” she protested, squeezing his hand to reassure him. “Honest, I forget I’m pregnant unless you remind me.” She grimaced. “Or when I’m getting sick in the morning. But if you don’t take me to the Passeig de la Muralla, I’m not going to be a very happy pregnant woman.”
Andrés chuckled. “Ah, well, then we must go.”
A short while later they were on the narrow walkway that rested high on the ancient wall that once encircled the city of Girona. There was barely enough room for the both of them to walk side by side, but they managed, never releasing each other’s hands.
“The view from up here,” she whispered in amazement, pausing to look out at the city sprawled below them. “Oh, Andrés, it’s so beautiful.”
He came to stand behind her and nuzzled her neck. “It is. And you are beautiful, cariño.”
She leaned back against him and let out a soft sigh, the romance of the moment not escaping her. There’d been moments when she wanted to go home to Seattle, but at a time like this…her future couldn’t be anything but Andrés and Spain.
“Andrés,” she whispered softly, tilting her head so his lips could graze the sensitive spot between her shoulder and neck. “I’m confused. The way I feel about you…”
“Chloe.” He turned her in his embrace and lifted her chin with one finger. “Marry me, please, my darling.”
He’d used the English endearment instead of cariño this time. The realization softened her heart just a bit, but not enough to let her say the words she desperately wanted to. He asked for all the wrong reasons.
“I can’t,” she murmured miserably. “You know I can’t.”
His nostrils flared, irritation flickering in his eyes. “Why? Because of a word I refuse to say?”
“It’s more than just saying it, Andrés.”
“Cristos.” He shook his head, his jaw tight. “Why do you feel so strongly about love? Why is it important to you?”
“Because my parents had it,” she confessed, wanting desperately for him to understand. “They loved each other so much, there wasn’t anything they wouldn’t do for one another.”
“And it killed them?”
“No…” she said slowly, searching his hard gaze. Stunned he would even make such a dramatic assumption. “A drunk driver killed them. Just over a year ago.”
Andrés’s grip on her loosened and he swore softly under his breath. He lowered his head, touching his forehead briefly against hers. “I’m sorry.”
Her heart ached with the memory, but she found it less difficult to discuss now. As if having Andrés in her life had eased the pain. “Their sudden passing was part of the reason I came to Spain. They met here while backpacking Europe. They always loved this country.”
“And you will too, Chloe.”
She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat, wishing his desire and compatibility for her could be enough. “Andrés—”
“I can’t let you go,” he said huskily. “I won’t.”
But he couldn’t love her, either. Her throat tightened with tears she refused to shed.
And then his mouth was on hers, claiming her and demanding her surrender in at least the physical sense. Chloe couldn’t help but to give in. She wound her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his, kissing him back fervently. Taking his frustrations and passion and matching them with her own.
When he finally lifted his head, they both were breathing unevenly. He caught her jaw between firm fingers and forced her to look at him.
“Promise me you won’t try to leave Spain until the baby is born, Chloe. Promise you won’t leave me.”
She knew what he asked. That even if she refused to marry him, she would agree to stay…and to warm his bed at night. Which brought her full circle to where she’d been when she’d fled Spain just over two months ago. She would become Andrés’s mistress.
“Chloe?”
“I promise,” she heard herself agree on a whisper. “I’ll stay.”
And then she prayed that maybe Andrés was wrong about himself. Because she knew that even though he might not be able to give up his heart, Andrés stole a little bit more of hers with each day that passed.
Later that night, when they returned to his villa, the dynamics between them had shifted. They stood on a fur rug with a fire crackling in the background. Andrés slowly removed her dress and undergarments, his movements tender as she stood trembling in front of him.
His gaze slid over her, smoldering with desire. But there was more, an unfamiliar gentleness and connection that took her breath away. “Ah, you are so lovely, cariño.”
He sank to his knees, clasping her hips lightly. Then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss against the tiny swell where their child grew, tracing her skin with his fingertips.
Chloe’s throat tightened with emotion and she stroked the softness of his thick black hair. The look of wonder on his face was so foreign to his features that a shuddering sigh fled past her lips.
Then Andrés moved lower, his lips burning a trail that led straight into the curls shielding her sex.
“Andrés,” she protested feebly, but he ignored her, delving fingers between her legs to explore the damp folds.
Soft moans escaped her when he stroked her, but when he leaned forward and kissed her most intimate place, she was lost. He leaned in to taste her, touch her. Chloe’s thighs shook and her pulse raced; each flick of his tongue sent her mind spinning with sensation.
When she could barely stand anymore, Andrés eased her down to the rug where the soft fur cushioned her back, then returned between her thighs, his mouth teasing her to hedonistic levels of sensation.
He pushed her over that cliff of pleasure until she was crying out and clutching the rug. And then Andrés moved swiftly between her legs, entering in one smooth thrust while her body still quaked from the aftermath of her release.
“Ah, why can’t I get enough of you?” He lanced his fingers with hers and began to ride her. “What have you done to me, Chloe?”
What had she done to him? Her heart ached with how much she wanted him to see her beyond the woman who carried his child. The woman who gave him pleasure in his bed. If only he saw her for whom she truly was—the woman who was already half in love with him. She closed her eyes, tightening her fingers around his. She lifted her hips to meet his every thrust.
Even though she’d already peaked, the pleasure built again. She gasped when he moved deeper inside her, arching her back to shatter into pieces once more.
“Chloe.” He called her name and then found his own release with a shuddering groan.
A moment later he rolled to his side, still keeping her in his arms. She snuggled against him, pressing her cheek against his damp chest and listening to the furious beating of his heart.
“It’s not you,” he murmured softly.
She frowned, still drowsy from their lovemaking, and tried to figure out what he was referencing. “What isn’t?”
“It’s not only you that I can’t love, Chloe.”
Her heart shattered at his words, and her blood that had pulsed hot became like ice. She tried to push him away, but he held her firmly in his grasp.
“I want you to understand,” he said huskily. “I want to tell you why.”
Chloe stilled in her attempt to escape, the air locking in her lungs. The realization that he was going to confide had everything within her taut with hope. She waited for him to continue, not daring to say anything in case he changed his mind.
