The Spanish Doctor's Love-Child. Kate Hardy
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She reached up on tiptoe and kissed him; as he responded, letting her explore his mouth in turn, she undid the buttons of his shirt and slid her palms across his pectoral muscles.
Perfect musculature.
She kissed her way down his throat, nipping gently and feeling a surge of satisfaction as he couldn’t suppress an ‘oh’ of pleasure.
Half-dressed, he was gorgeous. He had smooth olive skin, with a scattering of dark hair across his chest—enough to be sexy but not so much that it was offputting.
She’d just bet that, at the beach, he turned heads. Of women who wanted to be with him—and men who wanted to be him.
She pushed the material off his shoulders, letting his shirt pool next to her dress on the floor. ‘You’re beautiful,’ she said softly. ‘I take it you work out at the gym?’
‘No.’
She drew her fingertips down his arms. Again, perfect musculature without a hint of flab. ‘You feel like someone who takes care of his body, not a couch potato. So if you don’t go to the gym, you must do some kind of sport.’
He nodded. ‘I run most mornings. And I fence.’
She felt her eye widen. ‘With a sword?’
‘A foil,’ he corrected her.
She could imagine him as a Spanish pirate on a ship, swashbuckling his way through danger. Or even better, in eighteenth-century France with tight black trousers and a ruffled shirt. ‘I can see you as one of the Three Musketeers.’ She slid her fingers though his hair. ‘With long hair, you’d look amazing.’
His eyes glittered with amusement. ‘Gràcies—but I don’t think that would go down too well with my boss.’
‘What do you do?’ she asked, suddenly curious.
He shook his head. ‘I don’t want to talk about work tonight—right now it’s just you and me and I want to make love with you, Becky. I want to kiss you. Now.’
She tipped her head back slightly in invitation, and he wasn’t slow to take her up on it. His mouth was warm and strong against hers, and his tongue slid into her mouth, mirroring the action his body would make later.
I’m kissing a stranger, she thought. One of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever met, one who’s cultured and can dance and cook—but he’s still a total stranger. This is crazy. I really shouldn’t be doing—
Then she stopped thinking as his hands slid up to cup her breasts. When the pads of his thumbs rubbed against her hardened nipples, she gave a sharp intake of breath.
He drew back slightly so he could look her straight in the eye. ‘You like that?’
‘Yes.’
He gave her a lazy grin. ‘Good.’ He repeated the action, and she shivered. But it still wasn’t enough. She wanted more.
As if he could read her thoughts in her eyes, he traced a trail of light, teasing kisses down the sensitive cord at the side of her neck; the caresses turned to hot, open-mouthed kisses against her throat when she arched back and closed her eyes. He moved lower, kissing a line down her sternum, and a pulse beat hard between her legs; the beat grew even stronger when he shifted slightly and drew her nipple into his mouth. As he sucked, she gasped in pleasure, sliding her fingers back into his hair and urging him on.
Becky was past all coherent thought when Leandro dropped to his knees in front of her, removed her tights and stroked her inner thighs until her stance widened, then slid one finger under the edge of her knickers and drew it along the length of her sex. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her inner thigh. If he didn’t touch her properly now, she’d go crazy. Implode.
He pushed one finger inside her, and she couldn’t help crying out.
‘OK?’ he asked softly.
‘N-no.’
To her shock, he removed his hand. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll go into the bathroom and leave you to get dressed. Just give me a few minutes to cool down.’
What? No! That wasn’t what she wanted at all. ‘That isn’t what I meant.’ Her voice was low and breathy and just a little bit fractured.
He frowned. ‘No means no.’
‘I meant, no, I’m not OK. I…’ She took a deep breath. ‘I want more.’
Enlightenment dawned and he gave her a slow, sexy smile. ‘More, hmm? Tell me.’
She felt the colour stain her cheeks. ‘I want you to…to touch me.’
‘Here?’ He stroked the backs of her knees, keeping his gaze trained on hers.
She shivered. ‘North a bit.’
His smile widened and he stroked her inner thighs. ‘Here?’
‘North a bit,’ she said again.
He laughed. ‘You do realise you’re giving me two-dimensional directions?’
‘Then how…?’ She couldn’t think straight.
‘Show me.’ His voice was low and sent heat flickering down her spine. ‘Show me where you want me to touch you.’
Oh, lord. Everything she’d ever heard about Latin lovers was true.
And Leandro Herrera made her blood fizz.
She placed her hand over his and drew it up until he was cupping her sex, still through her knickers. ‘Here.’
‘Just here?’
A tiny murmur of frustration escaped from her. ‘Don’t tease me.’
He smiled. ‘I’m not going to tease you, estimada. I’m going to make love with you. And I want to take it slowly.’ Again, he circumvented her knickers, but this time, instead of pushing a finger inside her, he used his fingertip to brush lightly against her clitoris, skating back and forth until her knees went weak and she grabbed his shoulders with both hands, afraid that she was going to fall over.
‘I’m not going to let you fall,’ he said, guessing her fears. ‘Well, not in that way.’
She closed her eyes as he continued caressing her and the pleasure built higher, higher.
And then he stopped.
She opened her eyes wide and stared at him in disbelief. Why had he stopped now, when she was so near the peak? ‘Leandro?’
‘I want your eyes open,’ he said. ‘I want you to see me. And I want to see your eyes.’ With his free hand, he removed her knickers and looked up at her. ‘Madre de Deu, Becky,’ he said softly. ‘Ets bella. Te desitjo. I want you.’ He punctuated every word with a tiny movement of his hand that had her quivering. Just the right pressure and the right speed.
And then, unbelievably, her climax hit. Wave upon wave of pleasure.
‘Oh-h-h. Leandro. Yes.’
Little aftershocks of pleasure were still rippling through her when he pulled his duvet aside, lifted her, and laid her gently against the pillows.
‘Thank you. That was…’ She couldn’t find the right word. ‘Amazing.’ More than amazing.
He slid her a sultry look. ‘I haven’t finished yet.’
And then she realised he was still wearing his trousers. While she was completely naked. Abandoned.
She felt her eyes widen. ‘You’re—’
He stopped her protest with a kiss. ‘It’s OK. I wanted the first time to be for you. And, as I said, I haven’t finished yet.’
Oh, lord. If he could reduce her to a quivering heap with just one finger, what would it be like when