Page 32 of The Secret Sanchez Heir
‘But I’ve only just got here,’ Abigail trilled. ‘And we’ve barely danced together at all.’ She pouted up at him, all lush pink lips and bedroom eyes, and Leandro swore softly and fluently under his breath.
‘Don’t do that,’ he said roughly. They’d managed to find their way to the side of the dance floor where the light was even dimmer and the music was low enough that they could hear themselves talk.
‘Do what?’ She fluttered her lashes with a shameful lack of reserve and giggled.
‘Ask for something you might not be intending to ask for,’ Leandro growled. Never had self-restraint felt so hard, and his desire was so painful he could barely move properly.
‘Maybe I am intending to ask for what you don’t think I should be intending to ask for...or something like that...’ She pulled him down towards her because she just had to, and her body went up in flames as his cool lips met hers, then lingered and then devoured, tongues meshing, her little moans shattering proof of how much she’d missed touching him.
Leandro was the first to pull back and he was shaking as he raked his fingers through his hair. ‘I don’t believe in these public displays of affection.’ He looked at her long and hard, and wanted her with every bone and muscle and tendon in his big body. ‘Besides, you’re not in control. Where’s your boss? I’m taking you to her, and you’re going to make your excuses and then we’re going home. And don’t even think of telling me that you’re not ready to go yet.’
Leandro didn’t give Abigail time to mull anything over. They were out of the club in under ten minutes and in his car, heading back to the apartment. She was pressed against him, her body soft and pliable like a rag doll, and it took the will power of a saint to keep his hands to himself.
He would settle her into the spare room and in the morning she would wake up with a thumping headache and there would be no question of him having taken advantage of her.
That plan worked pretty much until he’d shut his bedroom door. He’d settled her into her room, having made sure to check on Sam. He’d even made sure she’d wriggled out of the cling-film dress which, if he had his way, no other man would get to see her in again. He’d politely turned his back, in true ex-lover style, while she’d got into whatever sleeping clothes she’d found in one of the drawers after she’d banged about searching. Then he’d reminded her that there were paracetamol in the cabinet in her en suite bathroom, and told her to take two, because she wouldn’t like how she’d feel when she woke up in the middle of the night.
Then he’d gritted his teeth in pure frustration and taken to his bedroom and then...
And then his door had opened and she’d been there.
As quiet as a wraith and as beautiful as the most tempting of sirens.
And, as she’d climbed onto the bed with him, Leandro reckoned that he was, after all, just flesh and blood.
Now, as she lay staring intently at him in the silvery light filtering through the shutters, he sighed and shook his head.
‘I want this,’ Abigail said, as sober as a judge. She could scarcely credit that she had walked into his bedroom, which was next to hers, as naked as the day she’d been born, not caring about the consequences. She wanted him and she was sick to death of telling herself that wanting him was no way to move on with her life. Being a martyr hurt like hell, especially when they were both living under the same roof. For one night, she didn’t want to be a martyr. Having lost him, she had woken up to how much she had lost, and it hurt more than she could ever have thought.
‘I’m not going to take advantage of you.’
‘No, you’re not,’ Abigail agreed. ‘I’m going to take advantage of you.’
He laughed in exasperation as Abigail unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them off before working on his shirt. He was the very picture of a man who was exercising as much self-restraint as he possibly could and she loved him—yes, loved him—for that.
Loved him even though he didn’t love her and even though he probably had some stupid woman in the background ready to take her place. Abigail loved him so much that she wanted to take what was here right now and think about the consequences later. After all, she’d have a lifetime to pay her dues, wouldn’t she?
She pushed him onto his back and climbed onto him, moving slowly and sinuously against his bare chest while she eased the shirt over his shoulders, only pausing and shifting so that he could rid himself of it. Leandro seemed to give in to his desire and put up no resistance.
‘Don’t let me get in the way of you taking advantage of me,’ he said huskily with a smile that turned her on even more, from the soles of her feet to the top of her head. He hooked his thumb provocatively under the waistband of his boxers and tugged it suggestively, just enough to show her how aroused he was, then smiling the smile of the victor when her eyelids fluttered and she moaned softly.
‘Have your wicked way with me, my darling, because I’ve missed you.’
Don’t say stuff like that, she wanted to yell, because lines like that were what had got her where she was now, had made her think that there was more to what they had than there actually was.
When he said that he missed her, what he really meant was that he’d missed the sex.
Which meant that there wasn’t another woman. Not yet. Because he wouldn’t be here if there was. She just knew that.
Right now, she just wanted to hold him tight. She planted her hands on either side of him and leant over, lowering her breasts for him to take into his mouth, a nipple at a time. Head flung back, she groaned without restraint as he laved one hardened nipple with his tongue, while holding her other breast and massaging it. He moved between the two and took his time.
Then he cupped her behind and Abigail daringly edged up, straddling him and inching her way towards his mouth in small, sinuous stages until she positioned herself just where his tongue could flick devastatingly against her. He tickled her with the tip of his tongue and she released a long, shuddering moan. Her breathing was shallow and fast and, as he continued to taste her between her legs, she moved against his mouth. She felt little shivers of excitement racing like quicksilver through her veins, signalling an orgasm if she didn’t stop to gather herself, but for a little while longer she enjoyed what his mouth was doing.
He was big and hard for her when it was her turn to taste him. Leandro angled her body, sliding her over him, and they tasted one another.
He couldn’t get enough of her. He’d gone mad when he’d seen her dancing on that dance floor, seen the way other men had been eyeing her, and the way that guy had been circling her, waiting to make his move.
Was it simply possessiveness?
