Page 10 of Cinderella's Christmas Secret

‘It was the shoes which made me walk that way.’

‘Ah, so we must blame the shoes, must we?’ he questioned gravely.

‘I borrowed them,’ she explained, when she saw the glint of mockery in his eyes. ‘Oh. I see. You’re teasing me.’

‘Yes, I am teasing you, mia belleza,’ he said, and his voice suddenly deepened into a velvety note of intent. ‘But not for very much longer, because teasing inevitably provokes desire. What I would most like to do to you right now is to kiss you again and then to—’

‘Make love?’ she put in eagerly, then could have kicked herself for her naivety, which was surely responsible for the sudden tension which had entered his body.

‘Well, that is one way of describing what we are about to do, though you need to remember that this has nothing to do with love.’ His golden olive features hardened. ‘Love is a concept invented by society. As a bribe, or a threat. As a marketing tool used by big businesses. Or as a method of control—a way of regulating women’s behaviour.’

Hollie opened her mouth to object to what sounded like pure cynicism, until she realised that she agreed with him. Every single word. Hadn’t her own mother carried her supposed ‘love’ for her father around with her like some dark jewel pressed close to her heart—guarding it and polishing it and making it more important than anything else in her life, including her own daughter?

‘What does it have to do with, then?’ she questioned boldly, because why wouldn’t she be bold when she had come this far? When she was naked and glowing with physical satisfaction, even though the turn of the conversation was proving a little too raw for her liking. But then the insistent little clench deep at her core made her realise that she would prefer to stop talking altogether, and start kissing...

Did he read her body language? Was that why he reached out to stroke her face, his thumb whispering to her neck, where it lingered on the frantic little pulse which was beating there? Hollie shivered as he continued with his journey and it seemed to take for ever before he reached her nipple, his eyes not leaving hers as he massaged its diamond hardness, a small smile playing at the edges of his lips as it pebbled beneath his thumb. And she realised he still hadn’t answered her question.

‘It has to do with sensation. With feeling,’ he answered, as if he’d read her mind. ‘And this is the best feeling in the world. Wouldn’t you agree?’

‘Yes.’ There was a short silence while she fought and lost the battle to let the subject go. ‘But you’ve felt it before, I suppose? Probably lots of times.’

He didn’t deny it. ‘Of course. But not for a while.’

She wanted to ask, but Hollie told herself it was none of her business. That his answers might not be what she wanted to hear. And when she didn’t say anything—which seemed to surprise him—he moved closer. So close that at the points where their bodies connected, she could feel goosebumps icing her skin.

‘So why don’t we enjoy what we have? Just for tonight,’ he added softly. ‘I could send my chauffeur home and we could enjoy a little more uncomplicated pleasure. I could show you many different ways to achieve orgasm. We could explore and enjoy each other’s bodies, because yours is...’

Hollie felt a feeling of power as his finger drifted down over her sternum, to lie possessively on the soft flesh of her belly. ‘Mine is what?’ she questioned breathlessly, as if she had conversations about the nature of desire every day of the week.

‘Esta magnifica. So soft, so womanly, so full,’ he husked, beginning to knead her flesh with his fingers and making her want to moan with delight. ‘I want to be inside you again. Deep inside you. As many times as I can. Do you want that, too?’

Of course she did and she nodded eagerly. Who wouldn’t want it? But his husky question came with a coded warning. Just for tonight, he had emphasised. Which meant she mustn’t expect anything more. His words weren’t the stuff of dreams or fairy tales, but that didn’t mean she had to shoot them down in flames. At least he was being honest with her. At least he wasn’t playing games and messing with her head, which meant something to a person who had been brought up to believe that men were nothing but inveterate liars. And now he was reaching down for his discarded trousers and sliding his phone from the pocket to have a rapid conversation in Spanish, presumably with his chauffeur, laughing briefly before hanging up. What was he laughing about? she wondered. But suddenly her slight paranoia was forgotten because he was pulling another condom from his wallet and in that moment Hollie felt properly grown-up for the first time in her life.

She was having sex! The amazing Spaniard had already given her, not one, but two orgasms—and he was planning on giving her some more! Christmas really had come early!

She settled back against the pillows, anticipation shivering her skin as he began to stroke her, with that look of dark intent on his face which made her melt inside. And then he ruined it all, as he brushed his lips over hers.

‘Do you realise,’ he mused, his hand reaching comfortably for her breast, ‘that I don’t even know your name?’

CHAPTER FOUR

HOLLIE’S MOUTH DRIED as she waited. She was trembling. Of course, she was trembling. Who wouldn’t be in her situation?

She closed her eyes, uttering some kind of wordless prayer, but when her lids fluttered open, her wish had not been granted. Nothing had changed. She was still staring through the window of her tiny cottage at the dark night outside and the Christmas lights in the window of the house opposite. She was still exactly the same woman she’d been seconds ago.

She swallowed.

Pregnant.

Pregnant with the Spanish tycoon’s baby.

Her heart pounding, she knew she couldn’t keep putting off the inevitable. She needed to tell Maximo and the longer it went on, the harder it seemed to be.

She was still finding it hard to get her head around what she’d done. After a lifetime of being a virgin, she’d fallen into bed with a man who was practically a stranger. She couldn’t have found a more unsuitable man to be her first lover, if she’d tried. An international playboy who had seemed all too eager to put distance between them once their brief encounter was over.

The night had not ended on a particularly good note. She’d hoped he might stay on for a while next morning. She’d thought about making him pancakes for breakfast, with honey or cheese. Or an omelette, maybe—because didn’t the Spanish use a lot of eggs in their cooking? Perhaps she’d been secretly hoping to impress him with her undoubted skill at all things cuisine—the way to a man’s heart and all that. But no. He had climbed out of bed, all glorious and glowing and naked, when the dawn light had been nothing but a glimmer on the horizon. She must have slipped back into sleep because the next time her eyelids had fluttered open, he had been fully dressed and maybe she should have guessed what was coming from the terse tone of his words.

‘I’d better go.’

---