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‘I am not your brother.’
It took a moment for her shellshocked brain to comprehend what he’d said. Still holding her trapped between the car and his body, he shifted his weight until suddenly the hard, unmistakable ridge of his full male arousal pressed against her belly.
‘Do not test me,’ he said, his voice a low rumble of warning, ‘and expect me to behave as if I am.’
Clamping her upper arms, he moved her sideways, then released her to open her door.
Heart pounding, hands trembling, she retrieved her sunglasses from the roof and pushed them onto her face. She should say something, she thought weakly, balling her hands at her sides. Something assertive, something to express the anger and indignation she should be feeling—was feeling, she corrected herself. But in that moment, with her mind still reeling and her body feeling strangely deprived now that he’d moved away, all she could focus on was getting herself into the car before her knees gave out.
The drive back to the villa took an age. A wall of silence had descended, thick and unscaleable, and Jordan could think of nothing to say to breach it.
Nothing that wouldn’t betray how deeply shaken she felt.
Xavier had kissed her.
More, he’d revealed his arousal in a manner so blunt and brazen she should have been scandalised. But instead she’d been turned on. And she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Couldn’t stop remembering how his mouth had felt on hers. Couldn’t forget his taste. Couldn’t stop replaying that kiss, in all its brutal, breath-stealing glory, over and over in her head.
But the most disturbing thing of all was the hot blaze of yearning in her belly.
Xavier had kissed her.
And she wanted him to do it again.
* * *
He shouldn’t have done it.
Xav pinched the bridge of his nose and cursed himself for the hundredth time since they’d got back to the villa. He shouldn’t have kissed Jordan the way he had, with anger and arrogance and a dark compulsion to punish.
And yet he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t enjoyed every damned second of plundering those soft, honeyed lips.
She’d enjoyed it, too. He was sure of it. She’d made a sexy little moaning sound in her throat and softened her mouth under his, granting him access to go deep, to stroke his tongue in and taste her...which had been his undoing.
Because now that he knew how sweet she was, his tastebuds cried out for more.
And his body ached. Wanted. Wanted what he shouldn’t have.
Biting back another curse, he shut his laptop and stood up from his desk. He’d stared at the same columns and rows of figures for over an hour. Clearly work wasn’t going to provide the distraction he’d hoped for.
He moved through the open French doors of his study and stood on the terrace, hands shoved in his jeans pockets, his gaze drifting out across the ocean to where the sun’s glow was no more than a dying ember on the horizon.
It wasn’t only the kiss that had played endlessly on his mind these last few hours. It was everything that had happened today. The village. The Gonzalezes. The stories about Camila Sanchez that he’d listened to over lunch...
The harsh things he’d said to Jordan in the car afterwards, which he now regretted.
Returning here, to the unapologetically plush surroundings of his home, had evoked in him a raft of strange emotions. He wasn’t an idle man—he worked hard and always would—but there was no disputing the fact that his life had been one of privilege and opportunity. A life he’d have been denied had his birth mother chosen to keep him.
He lived the life of an aristocrat. He bore the de la Vega name. He sat on the Vega Corporation’s board, owned a slice of the empire and held the position of Chief Executive—a role coveted by certain members of the extended de la Vega clan who believed it wasn’t his birthright.
And they weren’t wrong.
Dios. Wouldn’t his father’s cousin Hector and his son Diego just love to know that Xav had been born the illegitimate son of a farmer’s daughter?
The sound of splashing water filtered into his thoughts and he found himself sauntering along the stone terrace and around the corner of the villa to where the swimming pool was located. He neared the water, saw a flash of long, pale limbs and froze, realising too late his mistake.
There was only one person—one woman—who’d be swimming in his pool.
He turned to leave.
