Page 26 of Spanish Marriage Solution

She took a shuddering breath. His grip was unbreakable, the force of his will in every line of him. He wasn’t going to move until she gave him what he asked for, that was clear. Which meant if she wanted him, she was going to say it, out loud.

Yet even now it still felt dangerous to admit, almost a transgression even though both Edward and Emily were gone, and she was betraying nothing but their memories.

They found each other. Why can’t you and Sebastián?

Except Emily and Edward had clearly been in love, and she was not in love with Sebastián. Just as he was not in love with her. And she didn’t want him to be. She wasn’t ready for love again, not after what her marriage had turned into, and, in fact, she might not ever be ready. Love was far too demanding and required so much, and she didn’t have it in her to give anyone that except her nephew. But desire, passion...those she could do.

You need this. You need him. You need to be wanted.

Her heart ached. She did need it. In fact, she couldn’t recall the last time anyone had wanted her the way Sebastián did. His desire healed something painful inside her.

‘Well?’ he prompted. ‘Are you going to say it?’

Her mouth had gone dry at the fierce look in his eyes, her skin burning where he clasped her wrists in a strong grip. He’d given her the truth, surely she could do no less?

‘I...want you, Sebastián,’ she said huskily, the words feeling forbidden in her mouth and yet also so very right.

The glow in his eyes became brighter. ‘How long, Alice? How long have you wanted me?’

She swallowed and gave him this truth too. ‘Since I first saw you. When Emily first introduced us.’

His hard mouth curved slightly, but there was no amusement in the smile. Only an intense and very male satisfaction. He released her hands, but didn’t otherwise move. He was waiting for her, that was obvious.

It wasn’t a choice. Nothing was going to stop her from reaching to take his face between her palms the way she’d wanted to from the moment she’d walked into the kitchen. From relishing his hot skin and the prickle of his morning beard. From staring into his eyes and loving how he stared right back, and the relief that they could do this. That there was no reason to hide any more.

Then she went up onto her toes to press her lips to his. He didn’t stop her this time, his mouth opening to greet her, and then the heat between them burst into flames, the feverish intensity leaping high as he took charge and utterly devoured her.

She loved it. She pushed her palms flat to the hard wall of his chest and kissed him back just as feverishly, just as hungrily, and just as demanding as he was.

Her fingers dropped to the buttons of his shirt, pulling them open so she could touch his bare skin, and then she was stroking him, feeling the iron-hard bands of his muscles flex and release as she traced them. He growled something against her mouth and the rough timbre of his voice thrilled her. Edward had been so unmoved by everything she did that she’d begun to doubt everything about herself, worried that she’d lost her attractiveness along with her fertility.

Yet that was patently not the case with Sebastián. He took her hands and pushed them down to the buttons of his fly, holding her palm against the denim. She could feel him, long and hard for her, making the pulsing ache between her thighs sharp and needy.

He said something rough and demanding in Spanish, but she didn’t need any translation. She knew what he wanted.

She gave him a little push back so she had some space, then she dropped to her knees in front of him. It had been a long time since she’d done this—Edward hadn’t enjoyed it, or at least that was what he’d told her—and she hadn’t insisted. Her sexual confidence had taken a beating after losing the baby and Edward’s withdrawal hadn’t helped. But...here, now, Sebastián wanted her. He was on fire for her and he wanted to know if she was on fire for him, too.

Well, she’d show him. She’d prove it to him.

With shaking fingers, she pulled open the buttons of his jeans and released him. He murmured something in his deep voice, his fingers sliding into her hair, caressing. She didn’t hesitate, gripping him, stroking velvety hot skin and steel, then opening her mouth and taking him in. He tensed, a low growl escaping him. His fingers flexed and tightened in her hair as she took him deeper.

‘Alice,’ he murmured, her name sounding like music in his accent. ‘Mi cielo...’

She had no idea what that meant, but she knew it was an endearment of some kind and it wound through her, a thread of gold gilding everything inside her. Edward had never called her anything but Alice, even when they’d first started dating. No sweetheart. No honey. No darling. Not even my love. Just Alice. Plain old Alice.

But then even that thought vanished as she tasted him, loving the sounds she brought from him as his hips flexed and he drove himself into her mouth. She lost herself in that moment. Lost herself to the pleasure she gave him and when he made a low, guttural sound of release, it was her turn to take everything he gave her, and she did.

When he was done, he gave them a few moments then pulled her up and lifted her onto the kitchen counter, so she was sitting on it. He reached for the tie of her robe, tugging at it so the edges of the fabric parted. Then he slid one hand in her hair, pulling her head gently back, and he bent, covering her mouth with his.

Alice shuddered. He tasted of dark coffee and sin and when she leaned into his lips, kissing back hungrily, he made another of those low, masculine sounds that thrilled her so much.

‘Slow down,’ he murmured against her lips. ‘We have plenty of time.’ Then he slipped a hand between the parted folds of her robe, his touch a flame on her bare skin, and his kiss became slower, deeper, more intent. His fingers spread, cupping her breast in his palm, his thumb stroking over her hardened nipple, sending waves of shocking pleasure through her.

It felt so good. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. There was only his stroking hand moving over her skin, touching her, tracing her with such care it was as if he was committing every inch of her to memory.

Edward hadn’t touched her that way, not even the first time they’d slept together. He’d been attentive, but he hadn’t touched her as if she was rare and precious. As if he’d been dreaming of the feel of her skin for years and years.

But Sebastián did. Every caress of his fingers layering pleasure upon pleasure, until she was trembling with the force of it. His mouth had found its way to her throat, tasting the frantic race of her pulse, his hand dropping down between her thighs, stroking and teasing the soft flesh there with such lightness she could barely stand it.

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