Page 23 of The Secret Sanchez Heir
He shrugged. He was playing a wild card, but she could be as stubborn as a mule, and he couldn’t appear to force her hand. Under the casual tone of voice and the nonchalant, cool indifference, he found that he was wondering tensely how this would play out. ‘I am a highly sexual man,’ he admitted. ‘I would be unable to remain celibate for any length of time.’
‘That’s so tacky, Leandro.’ But thinking about that made her feel sick.
‘I prefer to call it honest.’ The silence pooled between them and then he leant towards her and feathered his lips over hers. ‘And if I’m to be honest again,’ he murmured, his voice a caress that made her shiver and that squashed the voice of reason telling her to push him away politely but firmly because this just wasn’t going to do. ‘I would rather be a highly sexual man with you.’
‘Leandro...’
‘I want you, Abby, and I don’t just want you for my wife because you are the mother of my child. I want you for my lover because no other woman has ever turned me on the way you do.’
He kissed her again and this time the kiss was deeper and hungrier. His tongue lashed hers and she moaned softly into his mouth. He took her hand and guided it to the bulge between his legs and he pressed her hand firmly on it. The sensation was exquisite. He was past caring whether he might scare her off. He could feel her want radiating from her in waves and it matched his.
Not giving her time to start formulating a bunch of reasons for them to stop, Leandro tugged the prissy white blouse free from her trousers and began unbuttoning it, giving up at some point and tugging it off her, to hell with popping buttons. Pretty soon, she’d have enough money to buy as many prissy white blouses as her heart desired. His big hand curved round her breast possessively and he massaged it through the lacy bra, finding the stiffened bud of her nipple and rolling his thumb over it until her breathing thickened and she was squirming against him.
Wrong, wrong, wrong, her head was yelling, but the truth was that she couldn’t get enough of him. She’d never been able to get enough of him. She shimmied closer, her hand still feeling his hardness, her whole body keening towards him and resenting the barrier of their clothes.
Still kissing her, Leandro pulled back slightly so that he could get rid of his shirt, then he brushed her hand away, and undid the trousers.
‘I’m in heaven,’ he breathed hoarsely as her hands curved beneath the opened shirt. He freed her breasts, then unhooked the bra. Without giving her time to think, he swept her off her feet and carried her out of the kitchen and up the flight of stairs to his bedroom. Her feeble protest was met with a plundering kiss that drove all thoughts of resistance straight out of her head.
Her whole body was flushed and trembling as she watched him move quickly towards the shutters, closing them so that the watery afternoon light suddenly became muted. By the time he hit the bed, where he had deposited her, he was unclothed.
Beautiful. He was as beautiful as a statue of a Greek god, all muscle and sinew and a six-pack stomach that was as flat as a washboard. He moved to stand by the bed and she sat up, half-closed her eyes and took him into her mouth.
Leandro breathed in sharply and plunged his fingers into her hair. She knew just how to please him, moving fast then more slowly, her hand gripping him and turning him on in all kinds of places. He only eased her off when he knew that he would climax in her mouth if she carried on, and he wasn’t going to do that.
He was going to take her slowly and thoroughly. She wasn’t just his lover, she was the mother of his child, and he felt a kick of pride and ferocious possessiveness that he’d never have thought possible.
He undressed her. It was familiar and exciting, rediscovering the body that had always had the ability to drive him out of his mind. When she was naked, he straddled her and looked down at her exquisitely delicate face and her full, beautiful breasts tipped with circular discs that he wanted to lathe with his tongue.
‘You drive me wild.’ He groaned, and she smiled drowsily at him.
‘Less talking.’ She reached out and traced the tip of his manhood with her finger, keeping her eyes on his face and loving the reaction that tiny gesture evoked.
Leandro growled a response. ‘I was going to take my time...’
‘Who said I wanted you to do that?’ She wriggled under him and opened her legs, which was his cue to nudge against her. She was so ready for him and he eased his finger into her until she was bucking against his hand. He had to hold himself to contain a driving urge to ejaculate. He couldn’t wait. She didn’t want him to wait.
He levered himself over her, propped up on both hands and drove into her. She had a body that had always seemed fashioned especially to fit him, sheathing him tightly and taking him to soaring heights of pleasure with the speed of a rocket launching off.
Abigail cried out. Her short, square nails dug into the small of his back and she raised her legs and wrapped them round him as he drove deep and hard into her.
She arched back as she came in an explosion of a thousand fireworks that splintered through her. Her cries were loud and guttural and barely recognisable. With Leandro, she’d learned to lose all her inhibitions. She crested, dimly aware that he, too, was surging towards an orgasm. Wave upon wave of indescribable pleasure rolled over her, an unstoppable tide of sensation that brought tears of real joy to her eyes.
Coming down filled her with such utter contentment that it was hard to remember the gravity of what they had been discussing and the repercussions of decisions that would have to be made. In a gesture born of habit, she sighed and hugged him.
She liked snuggling. Leandro recalled that, just as he recalled that he had enjoyed that too, even though it was something that should have gone against the grain, because he had always been accustomed to vacating the bed pretty much the instant he’d finished having sex with a woman.
Post-coital chit chat had never been his thing, far less cuddles.
On the verge of dozing off, Abigail’s eyes flew open and she pulled back and stared at him with horror.
‘We didn’t use contraception!’ She gasped. When he failed to respond with an equal show of horror, she repeated, just in case he’d developed temporary loss of hearing, ‘Did you hear what I just said, Leandro? We didn’t use any contraception and I’m not on the pill or anything!’
‘Marry me, Abigail.’ He pulled her back towards him, inserted his thigh between her legs and moved it slowly against her, rousing her all over again.
‘Leandro...’
‘Can you deny after what we’ve just done that there isn’t a powerful bond between us?’
