The Gold Collection: Taming The Argentinian: A Taste of the Untamed / The Untamed Argentinian / Taming the Last Acosta. Susan Stephens
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more to do than enjoy him. He understood exactly how to increase her pleasure with the subtlest encouragement from the pad of his forefinger as he rocked her back and forth. And thankfully he ignored her when she warned him that she couldn’t hold out for long.
A wail of anticipation left her lips when she realised this was going to be fiercer and stronger than anything she had known so far. When she fell she must have blacked out for a moment, because she came round to find Nacho moving over her to an irresistible beat.
‘Again,’ he growled, and this time it wasn’t a question.
He lost it right there. Sensation compacted into a nuclear force that shot from his core, engulfing him.
‘Are you okay?’ she said, when finally they were quiet again.
‘I’m good,’ he confirmed. ‘You?’
He turned his head on the pillow to stare at Grace. The longing for her to see him had never been greater. He longed for her to know how she made him feel. He longed for her to see. But she couldn’t see.
Cupping her face, he stroked her cheek and kissed her mouth tenderly. ‘You’re a very special woman, Grace. Very special to me.’
‘Unique, I hope,’ she said, smiling in that way she had when she wanted to make light of things so they couldn’t hurt her.
‘You are unique,’ he said fiercely, wanting her to feel his passion. Making love to Grace defied classification. There had to be some new word for it. Sex didn’t even come close. ‘I didn’t hurt you, did I?’ he said, his concern bringing tears in her eyes
‘Only here,’ she said, clutching her chest over her heart. ‘Otherwise I’m fine.’
She said this wryly, with a small smile, and that smile tore at his heart, because he knew Grace would always say she was fine. She didn’t want to be a trouble to anyone. She had probably reassured the doctors on the day they had told her she was going blind. But he guessed Grace bottled up her feelings and brought them out when she was alone to examine, and that thought stabbed him in the heart like a knife.
‘How can you be fine if you’re crying?’ he said gruffly, blotting her tears with his thumb-pad.
‘Because I’m not crying the way you think I am,’ she said.
‘And how is that?’ he said as she turned her head on the pillow so they were facing each other. ‘How many ways are there to cry?’ As he spoke he traced the line of her jaw.
‘You can cry from happiness,’ she said. ‘You can cry from feelings so big you can’t express them in words. You can cry with amazement that anything can be so good.’
‘Are you giving me a compliment?’ he asked with amusement.
‘Maybe,’ she admitted wryly, still defensive, still frightened to commit herself entirely to anything that could bring her hurt. ‘You’re so gentle and caring …’ Her face changed again. ‘And so damn good in bed.’
He laughed as he dragged her close for more kisses.
‘I didn’t think I was capable of making love like that, or even feeling like that,’ she admitted when he let her go.
‘If there’s one thing I’ve learned about you, Señorita Lundström,’ he said, cupping Grace’s chin and tilting her face so he could stare into her misty eyes, ‘it’s that you’re capable of anything you set your mind to. Perhaps this isn’t the right time to say it, but—’
‘But you’re going to say it anyway?’ she guessed.
‘Yes, I am. You’ve changed since we first met, Grace. You’re stronger. You’re more capable and more determined. Because you’ve had to be. I know that.’
‘And because I was completely over-awed by you at the wedding—by everyone there,’ she admitted. ‘I felt so out of my depth. No wonder you thought I was naïve and awkward.’
‘I thought you were beautiful.’
‘Well, I felt like a fool. It was one thing being Lucia’s friend, but being thrown into the type of society you Acostas inhabit—royalty, celebrities …’
‘Who have exactly the same problems the rest of us do,’ he pointed out.
‘Not quite,’ she argued wryly.
‘So that accounts for your Cinderella flight?’
She laughed as she snuggled closer. ‘I didn’t feel safe with you then.’
‘And now?’
She would never feel safe without Nacho again, Grace realised with concern. So much for standing on her own two feet. One night with Nacho and she was back to square one.
‘What’s wrong?’ he said, feeling her tension.
She braced herself, and then told him the truth. ‘I always think I’ve got this sight thing kicked, and then something happens and all the progress I’ve made counts for nothing.’
‘Has that happened tonight, here with me?’
She shifted in his arms, knowing it was too soon to reveal her true feelings for Nacho, or how vulnerable she was. She’d just about convinced him she was strong. What would he think if he realised the truth? That where he was concerned she was utterly exposed, utterly defenceless?
‘Hey,’ he murmured in complaint when she turned away from him. ‘Stop worrying about the future, Grace, enjoy now.’
He was right, she reasoned. ‘Is that an order?’ she said, turning back.
‘Yes, it is.’ He felt his heart squeeze tight as Grace reached out a hand to find his lips.
‘You’re smiling,’ she said, tracing them.
It was one of those smiles Grace had talked about—the type of smile that could very easily have tears attached. ‘I was just thinking we should get some sleep,’ he said with no emotion in his voice. ‘Tomorrow’s a working day for both of us.’
‘Liar,’ she said. Her lips curved in a smile. ‘You’re thinking about making love again.’
Capturing her hand, he pressed a passionate kiss to her palm. ‘You know me too well, Grace.’
‘I wish,’ she said quietly.
SHE woke in Nacho’s big bed at the hacienda to find she was alone, and in those first waking moments she felt panic. It was like the early days, when she hadn’t been able to get out of bed without falling over something—even in her own house. When she had first known she was losing her sight she had practised moving around the house wearing an eye mask, but she had always cheated. Peeping had become part of the routine. One day peeping hadn’t been an option for her, and it wasn’t an option now.
Nacho must be at the stables, she reasoned, trying to calm down. Lucia had said the stable yard was where her brothers lived, and that the houses they owned were for civilised people to inhabit. She felt for the nightstand, hoping there might be a phone there so she could maybe make an internal call, but there was nothing. And—
Oh, damn! Now she had succeeded in knocking her water over.
She wanted the bathroom, but didn’t have a clue where it was, or how she’d make her way there.
She had to calm down. Sucking in some deep breaths, she concentrated on counting the Acosta residences. There was the palazzo on Fire Island, the penthouse in London, and the main estancia Grace had visited for Lucia’s wedding—and here …
No good—heart still thundering.
Next she counted pianos. Four residences. Four