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Dios. Maybe he would have that drink after all.
The shot of cognac did nothing to bring clarity or calm his raging need.
He’d spent the months after Svetlana’s betrayal burying himself in work and avoiding any and all liaisons. Not because he’d been heartbroken, but because he’d realised how jaded the idea of relationships had grown for him.
He and Luis had been lucky enough to grow up in a stable and happy home. Although not wealthy, their parents had ensured they got the best education, his half-American mother smoothing the way for them to attend top universities in the States.
It was this solid foundation he’d foolishly thought to emulate with Svetlana, despite the clear evidence that successful marriages, especially among wealthy men like him, were rare. How many of his silver-spoon college buddies had come from broken homes and were themselves intent on living duplicitous lives even before they’d entered the real world?
After Svetlana, he’d even been a little disconcerted to realise sex had grown boring for him and the idea of pursuing a woman had dropped to an all-time low on his list.
All that apathy was nowhere in sight right now. He paced the salon, nursing a second drink while keeping an eye on the clock.
Ten minutes later, he set the crystal tumbler down and strode from the room. The knock on her door produced no response. That unsettling irritation that was never far off dogged him again. Turning the handle, he tried the door, exhaling when it yielded to his push.
He was getting somewhere if she hadn’t locked him out. Except she wasn’t in the bedroom and there was no sound from the bathroom.
The absurd idea that she’d made a run for it had him charging for the French doors that led to her private terrace. His hand was on the doorknob when he heard a faint sound behind him.
‘Ramon?’
He turned.
She was framed in the doorway of her dressing room, clad in only a towel. Her face glowed a light pink from her shower and her damp hair tumbled around her naked shoulders. With no make-up, no sexy lingerie or perfumed skin to entice, Ramon wondered how she could still be the most captivating woman he’d ever encountered.
Because, Madre de Dios, she was.
Blood and lust thrumming wildly through his veins, he slowly moved towards her, watched her fingers twist in a death grip on the knot of the towel.
Her gaze flitted from his to the French doors before rushing back to his, as if, like him, she couldn’t look away for long enough. ‘Did you just break into my bedroom?’
He gave a low laugh. ‘I was checking to make sure you hadn’t decided to make a run for it.’
He stopped before her, breathing in the intoxicating scent of woman.
His woman.
‘And if I had?’
‘I would’ve chased you down,’ he vowed.
A shiver trembled through her. He wanted to trace his fingers over her satin-smooth skin, elicit another delicious shiver. But if he touched her that way, here in this room, he wouldn’t be able to stop.
Closing the gap between them, he caught her around the waist. Lifting her high, he banded one arm around her and started to walk.
One hand landed on his shoulder to steady herself as her eyes widened. ‘Where...where are we going?’
He passed through the open door and took a right towards the end of the corridor. ‘I’ve had you in my car and in your bed. This time I’m taking you in my bed.’
Her breath hitched in a sexy little rush that went straight to his groin. Striding through his private living room into his bedroom, he kicked the door shut with his foot and set her down.
‘Let go of the towel,’ he rasped in a voice he barely recognised as his own.
She blinked, then looked around wildly before her gaze returned to his. Whatever she saw in his face made her draw her lower lip between her teeth and worry it mercilessly.
Ramon barely managed to stop the torturous groan that rumbled up from his chest.
‘Drop the towel, Suki. Or I’ll do it for you,’ he growled.
