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‘You’re so arrogant!’
‘And you love it,’ he said confidently. ‘Come,’ he commanded. ‘Take the pack off and let me lift it up here, then give me your hands.’
‘You can’t,’ Sophie protested, looking behind her. They had already climbed up quite a way. If she fell…
‘Don’t you trust me, Sophie?’
Sending the rucksack up first, Sophie put her hands in Xavier’s. He changed the grip, taking hold of her wrists instead, and seconds later she was standing next to him on the moss-covered ledge.
‘First impressions?’ he said, searching her eyes.
‘First impressions?’ Sophie muttered faintly.
‘The view,’ he said, grabbing her shoulders to turn her around. ‘That’s the only reason I can think of for bringing you here. So? What do you think of it?’
Sophie let herself relax just a little against him. The ledge overlooked the valley—no, the world, she thought, struggling to find the words to answer his question. The relics of one of the most dazzling of all South American civilisations was laid out before them, the intricate terracing a testament to the determination of its people to tame the land and thrive. ‘It’s spellbinding—timeless…’
He pulled her closer into him, and she realised how close to the edge they were.
‘Not timeless for the Inca people,’ he murmured, keeping his arms closer around her as he spoke. ‘It took just a handful of conquistadores, with their armour, guns, horses and treachery, to destroy this highly developed civilisation in the span of a single generation.’
Sophie moved restlessly beneath the persuasive caress of his warm breath on a very sensitive part of her neck. It was so seductive, but some part of her warned he was only toying with her—testing her resolve. And, that apart, she sensed an anger behind his words that forced her to challenge the reason behind it. ‘Surely you don’t hold yourself responsible for that too?’ She froze as his grip tightened around her shoulders, and when she turned she saw his eyes were flint-hard.
‘Meaning, what exactly?’
‘I don’t know. I just sensed—’
‘You sensed?’ Xavier prompted.
He drew out the word as if it was both a blessing and a curse, which in many ways, to Sophie, it was. Facts she could handle. Coping with senses, emotions—that was much harder. But with Xavier it was different—she could sense things with him, Sophie realised, as if they were tuned to the same frequency and all she had to do was direct an unspoken question at him for it to be answered. She could feel the guilt lashing him when he mentioned the conquistadores, the same guilt he felt when Armando came into his mind. It made her want to reach out to him—physically, as well as emotionally. Their faces were almost touching. She was close enough to detect his warm, minty breath blending with the cool mountain air, and there were overtones of musky scent and warm, clean man…
‘Sophie?’ He made her concentrate on his face instead of staring dreamily into the middle distance. And when she managed to tear her gaze away, he got hold of her chin and brought her back again. ‘You sensed what?’ Xavier pressed. He felt her tense. She blew hot and cold—desire followed by panic. It was always the same. But why? Telling himself he was in danger of becoming too involved, Xavier hardened his heart to shut her out. If Sophie had a problem, his medical training was what he should draw on—not some false compassion that came from his impatience to bed her. ‘Why don’t you let me help you?’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘If you’ve got a problem, I’ll help you get to the bottom of it—I’m a doctor, remember?’
Wrenching herself away from him so abruptly Xavier was forced to fling out an arm to stop her falling over the edge, Sophie exclaimed angrily, ‘Don’t give me that! You don’t understand everything just because you’re a doctor, Xavier!’ She whipped her head away when he dragged her close again. ‘You don’t…you just don’t, OK?’
‘Perhaps I understand more than you think.’ Frustration did strange things to people, Xavier mused. And if that was the only problem she had—once he was completely sure Henry was out of the picture he would sort it for her with the greatest of pleasure.
‘No, no, you don’t,’ Sophie insisted weakly.
‘I think I do,’ Xavier husked gently, holding her in front of him and dipping his head so that their eyes were on a level.
‘Could you help?’ Sophie murmured.
‘We can find the cure together,’ he said wryly.
‘How?’ she whispered.
Xavier felt the soft brush of her breath on his lips. ‘Like this maybe,’ he suggested softly.
As their lips touched the world swam out of focus for Sophie and, when his tongue teased the seam of her mouth, her mind followed. All she was aware of was an intensity of sensation that filled every inch of her with pleasure. Xavier was so sure of himself it left no room for doubt. She trusted him completely…could relax into the love-play and, even though he was hardly touching her, she felt cocooned in a safe and sensual embrace from which she never wanted to escape. Using only his lips, tongue and the lightest pressure of his hands, Xavier showed her how lovemaking could be, driving away the savage memories that lurked deep in her mind. He drew out the sensual pleasures to their fullest extent so that every one of his drugging, beguiling kisses spoke of the next phase being even more to her liking.
‘So, Sophie,’ he murmured at last, his lips so close Sophie felt hers tingle in response, ‘would you like me to undertake the treatment of this problem for you?’
She searched his eyes for signs of derision or contempt, but all she could detect was a degree of humour and affection that warmed her to the core. ‘Only if it doesn’t hurt,’ she said wryly, risking a smile.
‘It may sting a little at first,’ Xavier admitted, raising his shoulders in a small shrug, ‘but—’ As his fingers meshed in her hair, cupping her head to gently bring her back for more kisses, Sophie sucked in a soft breath.
‘Relax, querida, I’m not going to hurt you.’
As he nuzzled his face against her neck, Sophie gasped with pleasure and slipped her hands around his waist. He felt warm…wonderful. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she let her fingertips tell her all she needed to know, exploring further, moving upwards, growing bolder, until she was learning about every inch of his powerful, muscular back.
‘Still afraid?’ Xavier demanded, whispering into her ear.
Yes. But only because a dam of feelings was about to burst, and she didn’t know if she would be able to control them. ‘No,’ Sophie whispered. And, as far as the debilitating panic was concerned, for the first time in her life she really meant it.
‘Good,’ Xavier murmured with a slow, curving smile. Their lips were almost touching again, but he pulled back a little to read her eyes…and then he allowed their lips to touch, but barely. And now, when Xavier deepened the kiss, Sophie moulded into him until she thought she would drown in sensation.
He tasted of fresh berries, good wine, and fruit gums, and of everything she had ever enjoyed in her life…and, as his kisses became more heated, deeper and more demanding, instead of pulling away from him, she moved closer.
‘You’re not frightened of me any longer,’ he observed in a low voice, looking searchingly into her eyes as he caressed her face with one strong, tanned hand.
Frightened of him? All Sophie knew at this moment was a longing for him to possess her
totally. It was so deep, so profound, she could think of nothing else. She needed more, so much more than a kiss.
‘I’m not frightened of you,’ she said honestly. He was the only teacher she needed—wanted. She knew now that only Xavier held the key to all the passion lying dormant inside her. But, instead of dragging her down with him on to the soft, mossy ground as she had expected and hoped, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
‘And Henry is out of your life?’ he said softly.
Sophie swallowed as the heat rushed to her cheeks. Henry was the very last subject she wanted to discuss.
‘I could never entertain a relationship that wasn’t completely exclusive,’ Xavier murmured, dropping kisses on her neck.
She didn’t doubt him for a minute.
Cupping her chin in his hand so she couldn’t avoid his eyes, he said steadily, ‘You do know that I mean that, don’t you, Sophie?’
Before she had the chance to answer, they both heard the shout.
‘Ah, here come our couriers,’ Xavier murmured with satisfaction.
Sophie pulled away self-consciously. She had grown increasingly receptive until her nipples were hard and outthrust against the spread of his chest. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before—even her lips were swollen in a very visible sign that she was aroused. As two men appeared, cresting a rise to one side of them, she forced what had happened out of her mind. It was too raw, too revealing, to share with anyone, let alone strangers.
The exchange of introductions and rucksacks was undertaken rapidly and, the moment the two Peruvian health workers had left, Xavier turned back to her.
‘I hope we may have something worth progressing when you have convinced me that Henry is not, and never will be, a part of your life,’ he said coolly, as if the interlude when normality briefly intervened had never occurred.
Sophie searched his eyes angrily. They were cool and uncompromising. But how could he refer to what had just happened between them as something worth progressing?
‘Shall we go?’ he said, before she had the chance to marshal her thoughts.
