Page 35 of Consequence of One Reckless Night

“Very beautiful,” he murmured, heat uncoiling inside him.

“Good,” she replied, sounding relieved. “These women worked really hard. Good to know their efforts weren’t wasted.”

He frowned. Pinching her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he tilted her head up. “Why won’t you accept a compliment?”

She turned red, her eyes sliding away from his, concentrating on his chin instead. “I know I’m not pretty like your other women.”

“And how do you know about the other women?”

“Women gossip, you know.”

He cursed.

Timidly, she bowed her head, her hands clinging on to his shirt.

“You are the most stunning woman I’ve ever met.” When he said those words, he knew it was true. He’d never met anyone like her before—a potent combination of shy and bold. She was kind and polite, with an uncanny ability to see through him.

Hadn’t she seen his tattoo and guessed exactly why he’d got it? Hadn’t she protected his child when she’d wrongly believed that he wanted to get rid of it? And hadn’t she agreed to marry him to give their child legitimacy?

She was a good mother—willing to protect her child even in the womb and was nothing like his own mother who had used him to her own benefit.

A feeling he’d never experienced before tightened in his chest, but Alexandre didn’t pause to examine it closely. Instead, he covered Raquel’s mouth with his.

Her lips parted open as his tongue swept in to claim her. She moaned, slumping against him, her hands wrapping around his waist, rubbing her breasts unashamedly against his chest.

He groaned as he lengthened against her. The sweet scent of her perfume filled his nostrils as the sweetness of her mouth filled his senses. Tearing his mouth off her lips, he rested his forehead against hers. Their loud, harsh breathing mingled.

“Let’s get out of here before I yank up your dress and take you right here.”

Chapter Fourteen

Thanking the ownerof the saloon, a middle-aged woman who had taken good care of Raquel, Alexandre led her to the exit door at the back, where a nondescript black car stood idling in the employee parking lot.

“Why’re we leaving from the back?” Raquel enquired curiously as she got into the vehicle and Alexandre slid in beside her.

“I don’t want the press to catch us.” Nodding at the driver, who immediately swung the car out onto the main road, he turned to her. “I don’t want them to publish anything about us that I don’t approve of.”

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