Page 188 of Modern Romance November 2024 5-8

Of course he knew what onglet was, just another word for a certain cut of steak, but Mia clearly didn’t know that, and Santos was desperate to put her at her ease. To reassure her that she belonged in this world, she belonged withhim. A little white lie was certainly understandable, permissible, and he had been telling the truth when he’d said his mother had told him about the forks. It was sound advice and, with a pang, it had made him remember how lost Mia had looked at the dining-room table in Seville.

A bit, like how she looked now, he worried. He was acutely conscious of the way worry chased across her features like shadows. She kept trying to banish it but it kept coming back. What would it take to convince her they belonged together?

If you really do?

No, he didn’t want those doubts to settle in his mind, his heart, again. He’d banish that flock of cawing crows every time if he had to. They’d already addressed some of the issues, he reminded himself. They were working through things; they were getting there.

It doesn’t change the truth that she didn’t want your baby.

No, he wasn’t going to go there, Santos told himself. Not tonight, when Mia was looking so beautiful and, despite the worry flickering across her face, so happy. Not when all he wanted to do—still—was take her in his arms and kiss those softly parted lips. He would not let the doubts in. He certainly wouldn’t let them win, not tonight.

‘So,’ Mia asked, ‘Are you ordering the onglet then? Give it a try?’

Santos smiled, doing his best to banish the worries, the doubts, that maybe Mia was right and they were too different. Those differences could be overcome; they werebeingovercome already, tonight. ‘Yes,’ he told her. ‘I think I will.’

They ate all five courses, washed down with wine, as the moon rose over the Mediterranean, washing the placid waters in silver. As the evening spooled out like a golden thread, Santos found himself relaxing, and he could tell that Mia was too from the way she tilted her head back as she laughed and the smiles that came far more often, and with ready ease. Several times she reached over and touched his hand—which he treasured—her fingers brushing his in a way that made every nerve tingle with anticipation.

As the hours passed, he found the easy languor of his mood being replaced by a far tauter, and more wonderful, expectation.Tonight...Tonight, they would be together.

It was nearing midnight by the time they left the restaurant; in typical Spanish style, the night seemed young, and many people were still dining. The streets were full of tourists and Spaniards alike as they headed out into the Old Town, everyone enjoying the sultry evening, the electric sense of possibility that buzzed through Barcelona. That buzzed through him.

As they strolled down the street back to the hotel, Santos took Mia’s hand, carelessly enough, twining his fingers through hers in a way that he hoped felt casual, natural. It certainly did to him, even if it also felt as if he’d put his fingers into an electrical socket, though pleasurably. Everything came pulsatingly alive. They didn’t speak as they walked along, but Santos felt that sense of expectation building inside him, a towering wave of need and desire.

He hoped Mia felt it too. He hoped she remembered, as he did, just how wonderful they’d been together physically right from the first; it had felt like the purest form of communication, needing no words. He wanted that again. He wanted ittonight—not just for the pleasure and satisfaction he was definitely anticipating, but forthem, for their relationship. There were so many ways for them to connect, to solidify the closeness that was growing between them, including what he hoped would happen between them tonight.

They went into the hotel and took the private lift to the penthouse, neither of them speaking, their fingers still twined. As the lift soared higher, Santos felt everything in him tauten all the more with expectation, with hope as well as desire. This was going to happen. It needed to...

As the doors of the lift opened, Mia slipped her hand from his, strolling into the penthouse ahead of him. Santos followed, shedding his suit jacket, wanting to gauge her mood correctly. As much as he wanted her right now, as fiercely as the desire was roaring through his veins, he still needed Mia to feel what he was feeling. He didn’t want to have to convince her. Too much had happened between them already for that.

The rooms of the penthouse were lost in shadow as Mia walked through them, no more than a moonlit silhouette in the darkness. Santos could make out the tumble of her hair, the curve of her cheek, the swell of her breasts underneath the shimmering silk of her gown. She paused in front of the doors to the master bedroom, one slender hand resting on the frame, her back to him, revealing a golden expanse of flesh barely visible in the shadows.

Santos stood there, waiting, hoping... Should he say something, or should he wait for her to say it? If she said goodnight and closed the door, he thought it might just about kill him.

Mia turned so she was in profile, her lashes dropping down to her cheeks. She drew a breath. The very air between them seemed to quiver.

‘I think,’ she said softly, ‘I need help with my zip.’

Santos’s breath came out in a rugged shudder. ‘I believe I can manage that,’ he told her, his voice little more than a rasp. He came towards her slowly, his palms tingling in anticipation of touching her. He saw a small smile curve her lips and heat bloomed within him.

He stood behind her, close enough so he could feel the warmth of body, breathe in the scent that was uniquely, exquisitely her—almond and roses, sweetness and sunshine. The gown delved in a vee over her shoulder blades, the zip starting halfway down her spine. Santos’s fingers whispered over her skin as he reached for the zip. He heard and felt a shudder go through her as gently, languorously, he tugged the zip down, enjoying every protracted second of the experience.

It came easily, the soft fabric of her dress parting to reveal more smooth, golden flesh. He tugged the zip down to the small of her back, pausing while she waited, her body practically quivering in anticipation, and then tugged it the rest of the way down over the curve of her bottom. The straps slipped from her shoulders so the dress slid from her hips and barely covered her breasts.

Santos took another step towards her so he was right behind her, close enough that her bottom was brushing his thighs, causing an almost unbearable ache of desire to go through him. He rested his hands on her shoulders, keeping the gown in place...for now.

‘Do you need any more help?’ he asked, his voice barely a breath of sound that stirred the tendril of hair on the nape of her neck. He longed to press his lips there and savour the feel of her skin.

She swallowed, and he felt her tremble. When she spoke, her voice was soft, no more than a whisper. ‘I think I do.’

Slowly he pulled the dress down further so that it pooled about her waist. He bent his head to do what he’d been aching to do and pressed his lips to the warm, soft skin on the nape of her neck. A moan escaped her, soft and mewling.

Santos slipped his hands round her front and cupped her bare breasts. They felt exactly as he remembered, filling his hands with their warm, perfect weight. She let out a shuddering breath as she leaned back against him, arching her back to give him greater access, his thumbs tracing her nipples as she arched even further.

Then he slipped his hands from her breasts to her waist, pressing her even more firmly against him. She rocked her hips back against his, and now he was the one groaning with both need and pleasure. They’d barely begun and he didn’t know if he could take any more.

‘Santos...’ she murmured, and then she twisted to face him, her arms fumbling as they came around him. Then her lips found his and the kiss felt like a punch to the heart, a firework exploding in his brain, the first stars coming out in the night sky, shining in the darkness, reminding him of all that had been good about how they’d been together.

He deepened the kiss, his hands still on her hips, fastening her to him. Then they were stumbling backwards, laughing even as they continued to kiss, as what had been tender and intense became a blaze of passion and need.

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