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He felt fit to burst himself, especially when her hands finally gripped his head, her fingers scraping at his scalp. She raised her hips to increase the pressure. Only by the skin of his teeth did he keep himself in check, intent only on her pleasure. Her moans deepened breath by breath until her body went rigid all over again...but this time in ecstasy.
He kept his mouth and tongue exactly where they were, absorbing the shudders that racked through her right until she dropped her hold on him and lay back.
His heart thumping painfully, Raul raised his head to look at her.
She was staring at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling as if she were struggling to get air into her lungs.
Not until he got to his feet did she deign to look at him. Her eyes were wide and dazed but he could see the defiance creeping back into them.
How easy it would be to take off his trousers and free himself, to enter her, to obliterate the rising insolence in her eyes and bring her to a second climax.
But that would be to let her win.
In this game of desire there would only be one winner.
When she opened her legs for him, he wanted her screaming his name not fighting it, and if he had to suffer to achieve that aim then so be it. He was a big boy. He would cope.
‘I’m going to take a shower. Get dressed. We’ll be going to dinner in an hour.’
Without looking back, he strolled into one of the en suites, shut the door firmly behind him and stripped off his clothes.
His erection hadn’t abated a touch.
* * *
The Cazorla family home was in a private enclave as exclusive as the one Raul’s current house was in. As they neared it the coil in Charley’s belly pulled ever tighter.
Of all the times to have to dine with her in-laws, now had to rank as the worst possible. All she wanted to do was lock herself away in a dark room, go to sleep, and pretend what had happened between her and Raul a few short hours ago had never occurred.
Her skin felt as sensitised as she’d ever known it, the movement of her clothes against her body heightening the sensations. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop her eyes flittering to Raul’s hands, those long, dark fingers holding the steering wheel like a caress, and imagining them running over her body and dipping between her legs...
When he’d gone for his shower, leaving her naked on the seat, the humiliation of it all had been almost too much to bear. That his intention had been to humiliate was all the spur she’d needed to drag herself up and into the other en suite. This had a surprisingly feminine feel to it with its soft, muted creams and whites; a total contrast to the rest of his vast room, which covered the entire top floor and was masculine to its core.
It was bad enough having come undone so thoroughly at his hands, or tongue to be precise, but she would not give him the satisfaction of thinking he’d bested her emotionally too.
Raul wanted her total subjugation. Hell would freeze over before she gave it to him. The only good thing she could cling to was that he hadn’t bothered to tell her of their destination until they’d got into the car. Dining out was a way of life for him and she’d assumed they were off to yet another restaurant. On the nights he was home, which when they’d been properly married had been around fifty per cent of the time, they would both dress up and head out for the evening, sometimes with friends, sometimes just the two of them. It had reached the stage where she didn’t think there was a restaurant in the whole of Barcelona she hadn’t dined in.
‘They do know I’m coming with you, don’t they?’ she asked for the second time, unable to believe how nervous she felt at the thought of being with his family again.
‘I have no wish to provoke my mother to a heart attack,’ he replied with a lazy smile. ‘I can assure you, there is nothing for you to worry about. My family are nothing if not polite.’
That was true. One thing the entire Cazorla family did well was putting on a good front in any given situation.
The butler greeted them at the door, a discreet Englishman who had been with the family for years and had never once made any reference to the shared country he and Charley came from.
Lucetta and Marta Cazorla, Raul’s mother and sister respectively, were in the drawing room awaiting their arrival. Both were dressed impeccably, as if they were heading off to a night at the opera, something Raul had once taken Charley to and which, to her shame, she had fallen asleep through.
She wondered when Raul would comment on her own attire. He’d given her a sharp glance but hadn’t said anything.
If she’d known they were coming here before she’d got in the car, she would have made a greater effort than the casual inky-coloured silk trousers with the tapered legs and the silk blush-pink roll-neck top. On her feet were flat snakeskin-effect sandals. She knew her outfit would hold its own at any restaurant but in the Cazorla household...she might as well have come dressed in her pyjamas.
