The Spaniard's Inconvenient Wife (6 page)

Can’t do this? The words were like a dash of cold water in Estrella’s heated brain.

Can’t do this?

How could he say that now? Now when she was so close to the edge her body was screaming in its need. When she knew that she had to have Ramón make love to her or die from the burn of frustration. When all her thoughts, all her needs, all her fantasies were concentrated on just one thing…

‘Can’t?’

Her voice was hoarse with need.

‘Can’t? But—’ She protested again and heard his soft laughter warm her cheek.

‘Not here,
mi ángel.
Not here. The floor—’

He broke off on a gasp as, refusing to listen to his pro
tests, she clamped her fingers on the buckle of his belt and tugged it open. Below it, the force of his erection strained against the fine material of his trousers.

‘Estrella!’ It was a moan of protest and defeat all blended into one. ‘I’m trying to think of you!’

‘And I’m saying I don’t care!’

She had found the zip now, and wrenched it down so that the heated hardness of him spilled out, making him groan aloud in sensual relief.

‘But the floor—too hard. My room…’

He was fighting to get the words out as she caressed him, taking the strength of him in her hand.

‘The bed—’

‘No.’

Estrella didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to risk any change of place or any pause in the blazing urgency that had her in its grip. This was all so new to her. So wonderful, so free, so totally uninhibited that she was terrified of losing it. Terrified of the cold force of reality coming crashing down on her and making her think.

She didn’t want to think. All she wanted to do was feel. Being with Ramón, kissing Ramón, caressing Ramón made her feel so perfectly out of control that she never, ever wanted to know what restraint felt like again.

‘No,’ she muttered again, stilling his protests with a kiss, crushing them back down his throat. ‘No, not there. Here. Right here. Right now. I want you Ramón.’

‘Oh,
Dios.
’ It was a sigh of surrender. ‘And I want you!’

Rolling onto his back, he took her with him, the strength of his arms pulling her up until she was lying over him, cushioned from the hardness of the floor by the strength of his body. She had barely registered his intent before his hands were on her thighs, tugging her legs apart so that she
straddled him, feeling the hot power of him probing the central core of her.

‘Ra—’ she began, but choked the word off as his mouth fastened on her breast, suckling and tugging at the nipple while his hands stroked her intimately, making her gasp out loud in delight. She closed her eyes to enjoy the sensation, then opened them again just as quickly, needing to look into his dark, tense face, seeing the colour scored along his cheekbones, the glaze of passion in his eyes.

‘I want you,’ he said again, his voice rough and raw with need. ‘Want you!’

In the same moment, he shifted his hips and thrust upwards and into her, filling her completely.

Estrella’s eyes opened wide, but she was no longer seeing anything. All she was aware of was her body and this man’s and the point at which they were so intimately joined. The pulse of pleasure was out of control now, taking them both out of the world and into a dark, burning place where nothing mattered but each other and the burning pleasure that sent passion spiralling along every nerve in their bodies.

Sensation piled on sensation, taking them faster and faster, and higher and higher, further and further until there was nowhere to go but over the edge and into the brilliant oblivion of release.

S
HE
didn’t want the morning to come.

That was the one thought in Estrella’s mind whenever she woke, briefly, from the exhausted sleep into which she had sunk some time in the middle of the night. Before that Ramón had taken her from the living room and led her upstairs to his bedroom, laying her gently on the huge double bed. She had lost count of the number of times they had made love in the end, only knowing that, while her body finally gave in to satiation and weariness, her mind was still so much more than hungry.

She wanted more. Longed for, dreamed of more. Even when she was so worn out that she could barely move, but lay limp and drained in the softness of the big bed, her imagination kept throwing up wild images of the long, passionately erotic night and making her wish she had the energy to repeat the whole experience over again.

It had never been like this before. Nothing like this with Carlos, and Carlos had been her one and only lover. She didn’t want to think about Carlos but she couldn’t stop the memories surfacing. Because in one short night Ramón had totally obliterated everything that Carlos had taught her about lovemaking.

Or, rather everything he had not taught her. Because with Carlos she had known little or no satisfaction or pleasure. Nothing like this firestorm of sensation; this totally out-of-mind and almost out-of-body experience.

But she had always believed that she was in love with Carlos. The thought of love had never entered her head with
Ramón. And yet Ramón had taken possession of her, body and soul, driving the bitter memories of the other man’s deception out of her mind. Already she found it impossible to remember him clearly. The only thing she could see if she closed her eyes was Ramón’s dark, intent face above her, the molten silver of his eyes as he took possession of her again and again.

‘Well, you really are going to have trouble explaining this to your
papá.
’

The low, husky voice, touched with a note of irony, jolted her out of her thoughts and back into the world. Her eyes snapped open and she turned her head to see that Ramón had come silently into the room and was standing by the door, a couple of coffee mugs in his hands.

His still-damp hair and the freshness of his skin told its own story—he was obviously newly showered and shaved. He was not just dressed but dressed in full business uniform. Another of those wonderfully tailored suits, complete with shirt and tie—blue, this time—and polished black leather shoes. All making the statement that today was all about work and definitely nothing to do with play.

‘Or did you tell him you were going to spend the night with this friend of yours?’

‘I—I told him to expect me when he saw me,’ Estrella managed, suddenly painfully aware of the possible interpretations that he might put on her answer.

Tell him yes, she’d told her father she might be out all night, and he could easily jump to the conclusion that she had planned what had happened. That she had arrived with the intention of seducing him and ending up in his bed. Tell him no, she hadn’t planned on staying, and it looked as if she was an easy conquest, falling into his hands and his bed like a ripe peach, more than ready for plucking.

‘But I expect I’d better think about getting home before he phones Carmen and asks any awkward questions.’

‘Drink your coffee first.’ Ramón held out the mug.

It was as she hoisted herself up onto the pillows, the sheets slipping down from her body with the movement, that Estrella became painfully aware of the fact that she was totally naked under the fine Egyptian cotton. Naked, and marked with the signs of Ramón’s ardent passion, she realised as she saw the faint red marks on her skin, the spots where, later in the night, the rough growth of stubble had rubbed against her shoulders and her breasts.

Fiery colour washing over her, she yanked the white sheet up higher, tucking it under her arms and almost around her neck so that she was covered from view.

‘Bit late for that, isn’t it?’ Ramón remarked dryly, watching as she almost snatched at the mug, then moving to hook a chair forward with one foot and lowering his long body into it. ‘Last night told me all I wanted about the way you look out of your clothes.’

‘I wanted to make sure I didn’t spill any coffee on me,’ Estrella snapped, knowing she sounded unnecessarily defensive and not really caring.

His beautiful mouth twitched slightly, betraying the feelings that were carefully smoothed out from his bland response.

‘Very sensible. You wouldn’t want to burn that delicate skin.’

Estrella winced inside at the mockery that was behind his words. Yes, it was too late for modesty. Yes, he had seen, and touched—and more—every last inch of her body on many occasions throughout the night. But that had been last night, in the heated darkness of this bed. This morning, in the cold light of day, was quite another matter.

And the worst part of it was Ramón’s own behaviour.

When she had drifted asleep last night, curled up tight against this man’s lean, hard body, legs and arms intimately entwined, she had felt relaxed and at ease. She had no idea what was going to happen. Ramón had given her no answer to her rashly impulsive proposal, and until he did she had no way of knowing what the future might hold. But after a night such as the one they had just shared, after the mutual passion and pleasure they’d enjoyed, she had little doubt that something could be worked out. She had been far too tired to talk about things then, but in the morning would do.

But the morning she had anticipated had begun with her waking with her body still tangled up with Ramón’s. She had imagined a long, leisurely surfacing, slowly shaking off the clinging shreds of sleep. They might even—more likely than not—make love again. And in the relaxed and comfortable aftermath of that new passion, with Ramón’s arms round her, her head on his chest, then surely they would be able to talk.

That Ramón she would have been able to reason with. More, she would be able to open her heart and tell him everything. Tell him the whole painful truth about Carlos and about her past. But this Ramón was a very different matter.

Did he know what message his actions communicated? That when she had been anticipating waking together, lingering in bed together, talking together, loving, then his behaviour in not just getting up, but showering and getting dressed spoke only too eloquently of his need to put as much distance as he could between them. He didn’t have to say anything. His physical appearance, just sitting there, communicated everything perfectly without the use of any words.

Their night together was over. His day had begun. Ramón
Dario, media executive, was up and dressed and ready to start work. And she…

She could what?

What did he expect her to do? Get up, shower and dress like him and then—leave?

But what about last night? What about everything that had happened between them?

‘You’re going to work.’

Stupid and inane as it was, it was all that she could manage.

‘Obviously.’

Ramón’s tone was giving nothing away, and his expression, his eyes, revealed even less. His face was a blank, impenetrable mask and heavy lids hooded his eyes, hiding them from her.

‘But why?’

It was the wrong thing to say. She knew that as soon as she saw his head go back, his eyes narrowing sharply.

‘It’s what I do. The company won’t run itself.’

‘But I would have thought that today…’

She was just making matters worse with every word she spoke. Now a dark frown drew Ramón’s black brows together sharply and she could feel the rejection that radiated from him as if it were a physical force.

‘And what,’ he said, icily cold, ‘what makes today any different from the rest of my life?’

‘Well—I would have expected…’

‘You’d have expected?’ Ramón echoed dangerously when she hesitated, the thoughts tangling up inside her head so that she was incapable of words.

‘That you—that I…’

‘Are you still thinking about this crazy idea that we might marry?’ Ramón demanded harshly. ‘Because if you are then I suggest you forget it straight away. There isn’t going to
be any wedding of convenience between us. I told your father that.’

‘But last night—it wasn’t my father who asked—I proposed…’

‘And I’m giving you the same answer that I gave your father.’

The words came laced with an icy venom that made Estrella shrink back against her pillows, clutching the mug until the knuckles on her fingers turned white.

‘I’m not looking for marriage. I don’t want marriage; I never have. I like my life just the way it is. And if I ever did take a wife, then it would be someone I had chosen for myself. Not someone who offers themselves on a plate for a price—even the price of a television company.’

She looked stunned, Ramón reflected cynically. She actually looked stunned. She really couldn’t have believed that he would go through with her impossible scheme. If there had ever been such a scheme in the first place.

He’d been taken off guard last night. Unprepared for the way that she had kissed him, he had been completely off balance in seconds, as hot and horny as any teenager. And he didn’t regret a moment of it. Except that now it seemed that last night’s pleasure came with a kickback in the form of Estrella believing that he had agreed to go along with her crazy plan.

‘But—but last night…’

‘Last night? You’re not trying to make out there was anything special about last night? You wanted me. I wanted you—I gave you what you wanted.’

‘And took what you wanted too.’

‘Yeah, and why not? You were the one making all the moves.’

Though he had to admit that the way she looked now, in his bed, with her eyes still blurry with sleep, jet-black hair
spread out on the pillows and her golden skin in glowing contrast to the pure white of the sheets, he was severely tempted to make a few moves of his own. The instant hardening of his body when he had come into the room and seen her lying there, warm and relaxed, her eyes closed, had been almost too much temptation to take. But this was the morning, and he had had a long time to think over the foolishness of last night and realise that it had to stop.

He of all people knew just how destructive it could be to tie yourself in marriage to a woman who didn’t love you. Hadn’t his own mother done that with Reuben—and hadn’t both of them lived to regret it desperately? Just the thought of finding out, at some point in the future, that a child he wanted wasn’t his made his guts tie themselves into knots.

It was going no further. No matter what Estrella might think or hope for.

It had to end now. For good. He had to make sure that she left and never came back. Because if she did, he might not have the sense or the strength to do this again.

Ramón drained what was left of his coffee and deposited the empty mug on the floor.

‘You threw yourself at me and I’m a normal, red-blooded male. What the hell did you think I was going to do? Say, Sorry, dear, but I’m not in the mood, and walk away?’

‘You—you did once. At the castle.’

Yes, he had, and it had damn near killed him. He hadn’t been about to go through that again too willingly. The withdrawal symptoms that his aroused body had suffered had been his personal idea of hell.

‘But that was when you said that you wouldn’t let me touch you if I was the last man on earth. Last night you were in a very different mood altogether.’

‘I—I thought…’

‘You thought what, sweetheart? You surely didn’t have some crazy idea that I’d fallen in love with you?’

That seemed to appall her as much as it did him.

‘What? No! No way! Never!’

‘Good—I’m glad that your fantasy scenario doesn’t go quite that far. Where are you going?’

She had dumped her own mug on the bedside cabinet and was half out of the bed, the sheet wrapped round her and trailing in her wake like a white wave.

‘I’m looking for my clothes. I want to get dressed.’

She looked round the room in obvious dismay, biting her lip in concern.

‘Where are my clothes? Damn you, Ramón, what have you done—?’

‘Calm down!’

He held up a hand to quieten her.

‘I haven’t done anything with them. If you recall last night we—got rather carried away downstairs first of all. Your clothes are still in the living room. I’ll go and fetch them.’

It had been the sight of her clothes—and his—scattered about the floor that had brought him to his senses, he recalled as he made his way down the stairs to the living room. The visible evidence of the way that he had let his passions rule his head, becoming a prey to his physical needs instead of thinking about the repercussions, had made his blood run cold.

How could he have been so damn stupid—and with Estrella Medrano of all people?

He had known what her personal agenda was and yet he had still jumped in blindly. She was after marriage and marriage wasn’t for him. It never would be.

The clothes he had picked up and folded carefully lay in
a neat pile on the big leather armchair. The armchair on which she had been perched when she had first kissed him.

His eyes closed briefly, his blood throbbing as he remembered that kiss and what it had led to.

If he’d had any sense he would have stopped it right then and there. But from the moment her lips had touched his, any sense he had possessed had flown right out of the window.

He had never wanted any woman with half the intensity that he had wanted Estrella last night.

He still wanted her,
maldito sea!

Bending to pick up the bundle of clothes, he stopped abruptly, stilled by the sight of the scraps of peach-coloured satin and lace he had taken from her willing body only a few hours before. Just for a moment he touched them, resting his fingers very lightly on the silky material, and instantly wished that he hadn’t.

In the space of a jerking heartbeat, his mind was filled with wild, erotic images. Memories of how it had felt last night to kiss Estrella’s soft, sweetly perfumed skin, to cup and weigh the warm softness of her breasts in both his hands, to feel the hardened nipples peaking against his palms.