Christmas Kisses: The Spanish Billionaire's Christmas Bride / Christmas Bride-To-Be / Christmas Wishes, Mistletoe Kisses. Alison Roberts
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and her blue eyes were so bewitching that he was in perilous danger of forgetting just why he had followed her out here in the first place.
‘All I need is a good night’s sleep and I’ll be fine.’
‘Will you, Dominique?’
His fingers slid down her cheek and under her chin. Lifting it a little, so that he had even better access to her beguiling gaze, Cristiano found himself studying her with an explosively insistent renewal of the desire he’d experienced earlier in her bedroom. His whole body was electrified by it.
‘What do you—what do you mean?’ Her soft voice fell to a bare whisper as she stared back at him.
Knowing he was locked in one of the fiercest battles for self-control that he’d ever experienced, still Cristiano could not help but lower his head towards the sweetly parted lips that tempted him so powerfully.
‘I am not so sure a night’s sleep would ease what troubles me right at this moment,’ he said ruefully, his voice growing husky.
His mouth touched Dominique’s long before he realised he had very definitely lost the battle he’d been engaged in—that in truth had been consuming him all evening …
CHAPTER SEVEN
DOMINIQUE was certain her bones were melting … As soon as Cristiano’s lips had made their descent towards hers, her eyelids had closed of their own volition as she gave herself up to the sense of wonder and the most all-consuming excitement she could ever have imagined.
Divine, glorious, essential … These were the epithets that soared through her mind as she willingly surrendered to his kiss. Her hands held onto his lean waist, everything in her softening to welcome his opposing hardness, and she was shocked to discover what little resistance she had against this man.
The combustible contact probably only lasted just a few seconds, but in Dominique’s mind it seemed to go on for ever … perhaps because she willed it to? In the end it was Cristiano who ended the kiss, not Dominique—even though she knew it probably should have been she who called a halt to the most devastating engagement of the senses that she’d ever had.
His dark, aroused glance reflected back to her the fact that he had been equally engaged and affected by the sensuality they had both just experienced.
‘I probably should not have done that … but somehow I find that I cannot regret it. Buenas noches, Dominique. Sleep well.’
He turned around and strode back down the hall before Dominique even got the chance to reply, his heels hitting the ground in rhythmic staccato echoes.
Feeling even more disorientated than before, she glanced round almost dazedly at the terracotta walls with their glowing lamps, needing a moment to right herself again. She was finding it hard to believe what had just happened wasn’t some astonishing dream she’d somehow conjured up because she was tired and emotional. She sighed softly and hugged herself tight …
‘Tilly, Tilly! You are so silly!’
Blowing a loud raspberry on her daughter’s perfectly plump little belly as the baby lay in the centre of the huge bed, arms and legs flailing in excitement and her sweet face wreathed in delighted dimples, Dominique sensed a wave of love so strong consuming her that it almost took her breath away.
Every day the bond between mother and child was growing ever more powerful, and the little girl meant the sun, moon and stars to her. Yet as she gazed lovingly down at Matilde, Dominique found herself wondering if her own mother had ever looked at her like that when she was so small and defenceless and had depended on her for everything. It was hard to imagine when all Dominique could recall was impatience and irritation.
Swallowing down the hurt this thought provoked, she asked herself what it was about her that was so hard to love. She’d always tried to do her best, to be helpful and thoughtful and not deliberately difficult. Yet even Ramón had not been able to love her … not even when he’d known she was carrying his baby. The fault surely must lie with her.
Her mind drifted cautiously to Cristiano’s devastating kiss last night. Dominique had been trying to hold the intoxicating memory of it at bay from the moment she’d opened her eyes an hour ago and greeted the day, but now it filled her mind in glorious and vivid Technicolor, and something deep inside her ached hard with need. She was sure that in the cold light of day—despite what he had said last night—Cristiano would regret their passionate kiss. And now Dominique had to shore up her defences even more firmly against the growing attraction she felt towards him, and learn to keep her distance whenever she could. She’d been hurt enough. She did not want to be hurt so badly ever again …
‘Come on, Tilly! There’s a good girl. Let’s put this lovely new dress on you, shall we? Your grandmother is looking after you this afternoon, and I think you should look your best for her, don’t you?’
The knock on her sitting room door startled her. Glancing down at her pyjama-clad figure, Dominique reached for the robe at the end of the magnificent bed and quickly put it on. Thinking it might be her daughter’s doting new grandmother, come to wish her grandchild good morning, she scooped the half-dressed baby up in her arms and hurried out to see if she was right.
But it was not Consuela Cordova who was waiting. It was her ebony-eyed, broad-shouldered and handsome nephew, dressed in crisp white shirt and jeans and looking unexpectedly and disturbingly more relaxed than Dominique had ever seen him.
‘Buenos días!’ He smiled, and his teeth were very white against his beautiful bronzed skin.
‘Good morning,’ she answered, a distinct husky catch in her voice.
‘My mother and my aunt have already breakfasted, but I have been waiting for you and Matilde,’ he explained.
Then, before Dominique could respond, he reached out his arms for the baby, who was busily chewing on her soggy drool-covered thumb as her mother held her.
Her daughter was completely at ease and smiling as she handed her over. Was there any female who wouldn’t be similarly delighted to find Cristiano Cordova on her doorstep? Dominique wondered, a rogue shiver of pleasure rippling through her.
‘Buenos días to you too, my beautiful little angel! Did you sleep well? Did you? We must have a little chat about all the sweet dreams you must have had!’
‘You shouldn’t have waited for us,’ Dominique told him, flustered, as he swept past her into the room, murmuring baby talk to a clearly entranced Matilde.
‘I wanted to.’ Glancing away from the baby for a moment, fixing his attention on Dominique instead, he shrugged and then smiled again. ‘Now, go and get yourself ready and I will wait here with Matilde.’
‘I need to finish putting on her dress.’
‘Give it to me and I will do it.’
His tone clearly brooked no argument, and with her legs stupidly trembling Dominique went and fetched the dress and brought it back to him.
‘Now go! We will be perfectly all right here until you return—won’t we, Matilde?’
There was something utterly sexy and compelling about a man who could be relied upon to take care of a baby, Dominique thought as she hurriedly showered and dressed. Then, guiltily catching herself, she remembered her vow not to get too emotionally attached to Cristiano unless she wanted to invite a whole mountain of trouble to come crashing down on her!
‘Concentrate!’ she exclaimed out loud.
Pushing her fingers irritably through her newly washed and dried hair, she quickly plaited it, then nervously surveyed the very spartan selection of clothing she’d brought that now hung in the huge antique wardrobe. Cristiano had said something about taking her to lunch. Dominique hoped it would be somewhere fairly casual rather than upmarket, because she didn’t even possess an item of clothing that was what you could