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Blood thundered in his ears, deafening him. He dipped his dark head to plunder her mouth with his own but a movement in his peripheral vision stopped him.
He smothered a savage oath. The young waiter cleared his throat impassively and smoothly advanced, placing the champagne in its bucket of ice on the table set before one of the tall windows. He opened the bottle deftly, replaced it in the cooler.
‘Five minutes, sir?’
‘Thank you.’ Sebastian didn’t know how he got the words out and still managed to sound in control. Hoist by his own petard, wasn’t that the saying? Having the caterers around, in and out of the room, had been a way of making sure that he kept his hands off Rosie. But that had been when he’d been still fighting what he felt, still unsure. Now he wished them a million miles away.
His smile tinged with irony, he slipped an arm around Rosie’s tiny waist and led her to the table. He poured the wine and handed her a foaming flute of the pale golden liquid, noting the feverish brilliance of her eyes, the way her nipples were standing proud beneath the fine gold covering, tormenting him.
Dios! How was he going to get through this evening? Gritting his teeth, he pulled out a chair for her, then sat down himself.
Quickly. Using the large linen napkin to cover his lap, he hid the evidence of what she was doing to him.
Rosie gulped the cool liquid gratefully. She felt almost unbearably hot. Heated. Fire pulsing through her veins. He had been going to kiss her. Her fantasy had been changing into reality.
Her eyes on the city lights that spangled the night sky, Rosie desperately cast round for something to say to break the suddenly deafening silence. The fantasy creature, the Spaniard’s golden woman who had smiled at her from the mirror earlier this evening, wouldn’t be tongue-tied and all knotted up inside in this sort of situation. She’d be sparkling, relaxed, seductive and secure. And she knew she was none of these things as she heard herself blurting, I’ve never been to London before. My own capital city and I know next to nothing about it. You know loads more, and you’re a foreigner!’
Her words sounded crass. Rosie flushed. Deeply disappointed by her gaucherie, she swallowed the remaining contents of her glass in one huge gulp, then prayed she wouldn’t further disgrace herself by burping and vehemently vowed to kill herself if she did.
‘Then one day it will be my pleasure to introduce you to this city.’ Urbanely, Sebastian refilled her flute. ‘The whole tourist bit. Yes?’
Kind eyes, kind smile. Kind words to put her at her ease. Rosie knew he didn’t expect her to respond. Taking him at his word would presuppose they would be meeting up in the future, on her return from Spain—or after the pregnancy issue had been settled one way or another. And they both knew that wouldn’t happen.
Thankfully, the waiter appeared with the first course. Prawn and rice vinaigrette. Pushing the intrusive question of her possible pregnancy out of her head, Rosie determined to make the best of this evening, the last she would ever spend alone with him. She loved him desperately so she was entitled, wasn’t she?
Through the first course he talked easily of many things, his sexily accented voice velvety and low. Rosie responded as best she could; a bit difficult because her throat kept closing up.
He’d been on the verge of kissing her; she just knew it. When the caterers had left, would he still want to kiss her then? The way he seemed unable to take his eyes off her, his main course of tender lamb chops with herb butter as barely touched as hers, told her he would.
Mental images of how willingly she would go to him, their bodies fusing as he bent his handsome dark head to take her eager lips with his, burnt gaping holes in her brain.
Her heartbeat accelerated alarmingly and her bones felt like hot, melted honey. She wanted him so badly.
The hired waiter came to remove their plates. Rosie didn’t know whether or not he raised his eyebrows at the amount of the delicious food left uneaten. Her eyes had again collided dizzily with the sizzling molten silver of Sebastian’s.
She felt her heavy lids drop lower. She couldn’t look away. He mesmerised her. His eyes dropped to her softly parted lips and the note of command was back in his voice as he instructed, ‘You may as well clear up and call it a night, Adrian. Should we want coffee we’ll fix it ourselves.’
Rosie shivered convulsively, her veins coursing with excitement. She knew now what her mother had felt for her father. She was lost in love, drawn by a force far stronger than herself, all her principles forgotten in this clamouring need for just one man.
Alone. Silence.
Rosie ran the tip of her tongue over her suddenly parched lips, the greedy starburst of excitement sending her giddy, her legs almost buckling beneath her as he reached over, clamped lean fingers around her narrow wrist and drew her to her feet.
Drew her to him, to the hard, powerful domination of his lean body, his driven groan turning her inside out as he admitted harshly. ‘I have never wanted anything as much as I want you right now. You want this, too.’
The heat of his body sent her up in smoke. The palms of his hands against the bare flesh of her back, the hard evidence of his desire a shaft of dizzying, exultant excitement against the soft curve of her tummy, sent her rocketing into orbit.
Unable to lie to him, unable to verbalise an affirmative because the power of speech had deserted her, Rosie lifted her hands to draw his head down, raising her flushed face, her lips parting to invite his kiss.
Raw passion, shocking in its intensity, had her clinging to his wide shoulders as if her life depended on it and she was shaking all over, gasping for air, when he lifted his head, his eyes glittering, and told her jaggedly, ‘You are sensational, cara mia. Do you know that? You reach me as no other woman ever has.’
On a tide of wild emotion, Rosie took his words and held them deep inside her heart, imprinted them indelibly on her brain.
Her experience of men was about enough to be engraved on the head of a very small pin, and he might be shooting an often-used line, but he sounded really sincere, and just for this magical night she needed to believe him. And willingly she consigned all power of thought to blissful oblivion when his hands drifted upwards, over her bare arms, her shoulders, fire trailing in their wake, as he found the catch that held the halter straps of her dress in place and released it, drawing the soft fabric down to expose her tingling, aching breasts.
His intent gaze sparked a savage ache deep in her pelvis and she clung to him, barely able to stand, as his driven voice told her, I want to look at you. All of you.’ His deft fingers found the tiny concealed zip where the gold tissue ended just above her waistline, tugged it down and allowed the dress to pool at her feet.
A convulsive shudder crashed through her as he knelt in front of her, his hands sliding over the feminine curve of her hips, his dark head bent as his mouth homed in on the blonde curls at the apex of her quivering thighs, separated from the heat of his questing lips by the thin barrier of her lacy briefs.
