AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Never had she been happier to be adorned with the very best camera finish make-up as heat flooded her face. How could she have forgotten that night? Alejandro had been suddenly called away on business for two nights, and had only just made it back in time to collect her for a promised night at the opera. Ensconced in their private box, she’d leaned over and whispered in his ear just as the curtain was going up, and he’d spent the entire evening trying to insinuate himself closer to her, trying to discover if what she’d told him was true and driving her wild with his need when he had.
Before the opera was over he’d finally manoeuvred her into the shadowed recesses of the box and they’d come together in a heated rush. It had been wild and daring and reckless, and all of those things that had made their lovemaking so passionate and satisfying.
‘That was before,’ she whispered, trying to suppress the once familiar thrill of risky sex with a man made for it.
‘Indulge me,’ he said, so huskily and suggestively that it was all she could do to resist her insides melting, ‘for old times’ sake.’
After what they’d done before, how could she not be tempted? But giving in to him would hardly help her cause. She lifted her chin, determined to make her case plain. ‘It makes no difference. I won’t sleep with you.’
‘Have I asked you to?’
‘Well, maybe not in the last five minutes, no.’
‘Relax, querida,’ he said with a shrug. ‘You have told me you do not wish to become involved with me again. Why must you keep repeating it? Who are you trying to convince?’
‘Bastard,’ she muttered, with some satisfaction as he pulled the door closed behind him. She felt herself being sucked deeper and deeper into his dark plans, but that didn’t mean she had to go along with them. Immediately she crossed to the bank of wardrobes that lined one mirrored wall, sliding open the doors, searching for the clothes she’d been promised had been returned to the suite. She pulled open every drawer, searched every space, but there was nothing of hers, only Alejandro’s impeccable clothes gracing the wardrobe. She flopped down on the bed, her heart heavy in her chest.
She cursed him again—yet even as she did, even though she knew she should feel incensed by his actions, she couldn’t dispel the heavy coiling ache building inside her, the inexorable buildup of excitement that came with being with this man. He wanted to make love to her. He’d made that plain.
But damn him! She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he was affecting her. And if she needed a reason to be all the more determined to resist his advances, this was surely it.
Reluctantly she abandoned the voluminous wrap in which she’d once felt so exposed, and slipped the dress over her head, the fabric falling like a waterfall, sliding over skin in a silken kiss. She zipped it up, thankful that the halter offered some kind of support, and never before more grateful for lining. But still the fabric caressed her skin, sensitising it, and even as she strapped on the glittering sandals she could feel her breasts swelling, her nipples hardening at the sensual caress of silk against skin—and the knowledge that Alejandro would know exactly how little she was wearing under it.
She gathered up the clutch purse and opened it, surprised, but realising she shouldn’t be, that someone had transferred from her handbag the very items that she might need tonight. As she straightened and turned she caught her reflection in the wall of mirrors. Just as he’d asserted, the dress was a perfect fit, accentuating curves she’d thought she’d lost, its length lapping at the ground behind her like the waves lapping at the shore as she moved.
And the way the fabric draped across her hips nobody would know she wasn’t wearing a stitch underneath.
Nobody except Alejandro. But no way would she give him the satisfaction of knowing it bothered her.
She opened the door to join him, doing her best to ignore the feel of a lover’s caress on her skin as she moved, and plastering a supremely confident look on her face she had no right to claim.
He stood with his back to her, pouring champagne into two gold crystal champagne flutes. Reflected in the mirrored back of the sideboard she could see his look of concentration, his expression and every part of his bearing showing his aristocratic upbringing. Leah’s feet came to a halt, the madness of her situation defying understanding. For even after she’d had the best in beauty treatments, was now wearing haute couture clothes, the gulf between them had never been more obvious to her. They were worlds apart. He was a nobleman from a noble family, practically royalty in Spain, and she was no more than a humble seamstress who knew more about money problems than she cared to.
She was denim to his superfine merino. She was rags to his riches.
So why was he here? Why would he want her back? Unless it was to toy with her like a cat did with a mouse? He could get what he’d got from her from anywhere, with just one click of those aristocratic fingers.
Those fingers closed now around a flute, and he turned to her then, a glint lighting up his black-as-night eyes, sparking them to a slow burn that seemed to see right through her gown. ‘Dios, but you are a beautiful woman, Leah.’
She closed her eyes as the tremor hit, his voice so low, so husky, that it was impossible not to be moved as it vibrated its way into her body, zeroing in on those sensitive places she’d rather not have left uncovered. And when those feelings were under control she opened her eyes and he was there, standing before her, with ten times more beauty than she would ever possess. It was part of him—a raw, natural beauty that permeated his bone structure, his colouring, his muscled flesh, elevating him above the mere mortal and rendering him almost god-like.
No, they had nothing in common. They had only ever been equals in bed, and that would never have lasted. That would never have been enough.
She took the glass he offered, took a sip of the fine wine. ‘Thank you,’ she said, trying to keep her voice steady. ‘And thank you for your generous gift at the beauty spa.’
‘There is no improving on perfection,’ he murmured, dismissing his luxurious gift with a shrug, ‘merely window-dressing.’
She turned away, feigning interest in the city lighting up outside the windows, not wanting to hear more of his smooth words, and far more concerned to put some distance between them. Because it was impossible to remain impassive towards him when the fabric of her dress reminded her every time she moved of her nakedness beneath. And it was impossible to remain impassive when faced by such potent masculine sexuality. At this rate she would never last the evening.
She swung back, impatient already. ‘When will you tell me what you know about my brother?’
‘And give you a reason to leave before we’ve had dinner?’
‘You expect I will leave once you tell me?’
‘You have made it plain that you would rather not see me again. Right now the only reason you are here is because you want to know what I know. Is that not true?’
‘You know it’s true.’ But inside a tiny voice said liar. It wasn’t the only reason at all. But she quickly stamped down on that tiny seed of truth.
