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* * *
The following morning, as dawn broke over Paris, Lazaro lay awake. Skye was draped over his chest, her breasts pressed against him, one leg hitched up over his thigh, close enough to the centre of his body to cause pleasurable discomfort when his body reacted predictably to her proximity.
He could feel her belly pressing against him, the hardness of the small swell. He couldn’t feel any movement—not that he would be able to at this stage, when she was only just starting to notice it herself.
It seemed that the more he had of her, the more he wanted her. Their desire, if anything, was increasing. Becoming more urgent. More distracting. Even the thought of her body growing and ripening induced a big enough spike in his arousal levels to make him carefully extricate himself from Skye’s embrace, so he could take a cold shower and not expose how badly he wanted her.
Again. Already.
When he came out of the shower, knotting a towel around his waist, he looked broodingly at Skye where she lay on the bed. What was it about her that caught at him so easily? Like a sharp tack under his skin?
She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever been with. Or the most accomplished.
She was...utterly unique. Different from anyone else.
Lazaro shook his head at himself. Since when did he stand mooning over a lover? Or even, a wife?
He heard a noise and went out to the main salon. It was his cell-phone, and he remembered hearing it the previous night too, but ignoring it. He picked it up. Numerous missed calls from his assistant and legal team. His skin prickled.
He walked over to one of the windows as he listened to the messages.
Apparently a business associate he’d been trying to have a meeting with for weeks had been at the event last night, and Lazaro only remembered now that he’d agreed to meet him in the hotel bar for a drink before leaving. The man wasn’t impressed that Lazaro had failed to show.
His legal team had been looking for him because they needed him to sign off on some important documents before the public bid for the market in Madrid.
Lazaro’s gut clenched. He’d spent years undoing people’s misconceptions of him. Because of his playboy reputation. Because he was new money and had come out of nowhere. Because he had dubious roots. He knew his success was down to his diligence and his focus. He let people believe he was a louche playboy—but only when it suited him, so he could take them by surprise.
He thought of Skye, and the way he’d left the event last night. That exchange with Gabriel had touched a raw spot. And she’d called to something in him to escape. To rebel.
But he couldn’t afford to make those little missteps. Gabriel Torres and many like him were waiting in the wings for any opportunity to take a chunk out of Lazaro’s success and fortune. And he was all but handing them that opportunity.
No more. He had to focus, or everything that was important to him and all he’d worked for would be in vain. He couldn’t afford to let Skye continue to distract him. He knew what his priorities were.
* * *
Skye was sipping herbal tea with her legs tucked underneath her, taking in the spectacular view of the city outside the apartment windows. They’d arrived back in Madrid earlier that day, and Lazaro had gone straight into his study.
When Skye had woken that morning in Paris she’d been alone in the bedroom, her body aching from the previous night’s passionate lovemaking. She’d been glad of the time and space to get herself together.
Each time she came together with Lazaro another piece of her soul and her heart cleaved to his. Another vital part of her defences was decimated.
But he’d been cool and solicitous when she’d emerged. Proof that, for him, when they made love it was just a physical release. A by-product of their arrangement.
The baby was growing daily now, forming into the small person who would bind them together for ever. Skye’s heart palpitated at the thought of the day when Lazaro would start to lose interest and distance himself. Because it was coming. Of that there was no doubt. No matter how urgent their desire felt right now.
She heard a sound and looked up to see Lazaro striding into the room. He was wearing dark trousers and a polo shirt and he looked vital and breathtakingly gorgeous. He was holding something in his hands, and when he came closer he handed a bunch of brochures to Skye.
She put down her cup to take them. They all had houses on their covers. ‘What’s this?’
Lazaro put his hands on his hips. ‘I’ve arranged for an estate agent to come and pick you up tomorrow to look at some houses. Pick out a few you like and then I’ll come with you to see them again.’
She looked up at him. ‘You trust my judgement?’
‘You’re an artist, aren’t you? You have an eye for aesthetic detail. But also for practicalities. All of these houses have good playgroups and schools nearby.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I have to go to a function this evening...’
Skye didn’t relish the prospect of getting dressed up, but forced a smile, standing up. ‘Should I get ready now?’
A look crossed Lazaro’s face that she couldn’t decipher. Something that looked suspiciously like guilt.
