The Gold Collection: Taming The Argentinian. Susan Stephens
Читать онлайн книгу.
smoothing her hands over her naked thighs, feeling a bit self-conscious now.
‘You look great,’ he said.
The hint of a smile in his voice made her feel womanly and sexy for the first time in ages.
‘Stay close to me, Grace.’
As if she had any option—as if she wanted one, Grace thought as Nacho put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. He made her feel so safe.
‘I’m going to lift you into the vat,’ he said, making her heart race even faster. ‘Wait there for me—I’ll get in first.’
She listened intently when Nacho left her side and heard him vault over the side of the vat. There was a wet, squelching sound when he landed.
‘Reach out—let me guide your hands,’ he said.
Before she knew it she was over the side and knee-deep in grapes.
‘How does that feel, Grace?’
‘Wet!’ she said.
Nacho laughed. ‘Hold on to me so you don’t fall.’
Well, that was no problem.
And then the band started to play, and as the tempo increased the crowd all around them began to jump rhythmically in the vat.
‘This is seriously crazy,’ she yelled, hanging on to Nacho for dear life. ‘Don’t you dare let me go!’
‘Not a chance,’ he husked in her ear.
She was soon stamping furiously like everyone else. She had never felt so abandoned and free. Her legs were swimming in warm juice and the sensation was erotic and amazing. Nacho should have warned her—but would she have come if he had?
As Nacho let go of her for a moment, to tug off his juice-drenched shirt, she realised her own blouse was soaked through with juice. She could only imagine how transparent it must be. And now her overly sensitive hands were free to roam Nacho’s warm, naked skin. She could feel a wealth of muscle beneath her fingertips, and his heart throbbing strongly in his chest.
‘You’ll fall if you don’t hold on,’ he warned when she quickly drew her hands away.
She’d fall if she did, Grace thought.
He’d seen the other men looking at Grace with hunger in their eyes, and he felt his power surge even higher as she clung to him. He had left the other men in no doubt that he was the one Grace trusted to keep her safe.
The music stopped as suddenly as it had begun and a hush fell over the crowd. He knew what would happen next—though Grace had no idea why he was suddenly holding her so firmly. A few seconds passed, and then a drum began to beat. The sound was little more than a seductive whisper to begin with, but then it grew louder and faster, until everyone was stamping their feet to the same heated rhythm, and the air was charged with a primal energy that made his own senses sharpen in response.
More and more couples were leaving the vat, Grace noticed. There was a lot more room for manoeuvre, and not half so much yelling and laughter.
‘I’ll need at least an hour in the shower after this,’ she told Nacho, laughing. The evening was coming to an end and she was reluctant to leave. Something had changed between them. Barriers had come down. Though she guessed she looked an incredible mess. She was sticky with juice, and without Buddy or her stick she had no alternative but to rely on Nacho to take her back home. ‘But I don’t want to spoil the evening for you,’ she insisted. ‘Why don’t you come back to the party after you’ve walked me home?’
‘Why would I do that?’ he said. ‘Come on, Grace. We’re leaving.’
She liked that he made no fuss. Nacho just swung her into his arms and lifted her over the side of the vat. Then somehow he was there to steady her on the other side. She paused to straighten her skirt while Nacho found her sandals, but as he began to lead her away she felt disorientated. ‘Where are we going?’
A wooden door creaked open in front of her and cool air hit her face. They were outside and away from everyone, with cobbles beneath their feet. And now they were crossing an open space that had to be big because all sound was lost on the wind.
‘Where is this?’ she said. ‘A hay barn?’ she guessed as Nacho opened another door. ‘What are we doing here?’
‘Even you can’t be so naïve,’ Nacho murmured.
LACING his fingers through her hair, Nacho cupped the back of her head in a way that was both possessive and achingly tender. The brush of his lips against hers was a remembered pleasure—though so much better now she was full of suppressed heat and longing.
She could feel his power flooding through her, mixing with her own to create some new, stronger force. When he tightened his grip, pressing insistently and hungrily against her, she kissed him back with an answering hunger that found its voice deep in her throat. Teasing her lips apart, he deepened the kiss and, finding her tongue with his, stroked it in a way that made intimate pulses throb deep between her thighs.
She moved against him, wanting more … more pleasure … more incredible sensation. Her mind blazed with a fever that no amount of reason could wipe out. She wanted him. And, impossibly, it appeared Nacho wanted her too.
‘Where are you taking me?’ she gasped as he swung her into his arms. She still felt that frisson of uncertainty, and wished beyond anything that she could see.
She had to trust him, Grace realised as Nacho soothed her with husky words in Spanish. She knew something of this man now, and she had to trust him to keep her safe.
Shouldering open another door, he let it bang shut behind them. ‘I’m taking you to the hacienda.’
‘To the hacienda?’ she said.
‘And then to bed.’
‘And Buddy?’
‘I’ll make a call.’
Reassured, and yet terrified, she clung to Nacho as he strode across gravel and cobbles, and finally onto an even path. Another door swung wide, and they were inside again, somewhere quiet and calm and warm, where a clock was ticking reassuringly. She heard marble tiles beneath his feet and then a wide expanse of rug. They were inside the hacienda in a big hallway, Grace realised as Nacho turned and bounded up a flight of stairs. A grand staircase, she registered as they went up and up.
Trust Nacho to have his eyrie at the top of the house, she mused when they reached a thickly carpeted landing. He strode straight on and another door opened. Greeted by the scent of clean linen and beeswax, she guessed this was his bedroom.
The room was big. It ate up several of his strides before Nacho put her down on the bed. The windows were open, and she could feel the breeze and hear the swish of voile billowing.
She heard him switch a light on and smiled. ‘I don’t need the light,’ she said.
‘But I do,’ Nacho argued, lying down at her side. ‘I want to look at you.’
She remained still on sheets scented with lavender and sunshine, her head resting comfortably on a soft bank of pillows. She was trembling with awareness, Grace realised, waiting for Nacho to touch her or to speak.
Grace was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He marvelled that someone so tiny and vulnerable could be so strong. She was all he remembered from the wedding and so much more. He smiled to think she looked even better for being flushed and dishevelled after the grape-treading. Her hair had tumbled down and was wild around her shoulders, while the juice-stained blouse did nothing to conceal the full swell of her breasts. Grape juice streaked her cheek and her neck.
Bringing her into his arms, he kissed