Page 17 of Midnight Surrender to the Spaniard

‘Do you like that?’ he said, and she knew he was referring to the hand that was doing a lot more than politely resting on her waist as part of a duty dance.

She hadn’t been intimate with anyone since Willow’s father, and his hands had never caressed her so slowly, so lightly, so seductively. How could that slight brush of his fingers make her want to sink in, to lean in, to stretch her neck upwards and find his mouth?

‘Yes,’ she said—because she did like it.

This dance seemed to be an education in itself, for he was teaching her something she had not known before: that a palm on the small of her back could cause a tension so low in her stomach that it made her weak in the knees...that the fabric of a jacket could feel too warm against her cheek—so much so that she ached for the crisp white cotton of his shirt, and yet when he shifted so that her cheek rested there it still it did not suffice.

Now she wished her burning cheek was on his skin...

Anna found herself pondering the body beneath the suit, and that was most unlike her. Would he have chest hair? She couldn’t imagine Sebastián being waxed, or bothering with laser treatments. He felt like more of a man than she had ever thought she might want.

‘Look at me, Anna,’ he said.

She had to peel herself back from his chest to do so, but, oh, he was stunning. His jaw was dusty with new growth now, and his facial symmetry was perfection.

Sebastián Romero was, quite simply, the most beautiful man she had ever seen in the flesh. And she wanted to kiss him. Desperately.

‘We would move very well together.’

She frowned, unsure if she’d misread his meaning. But, no, she looked into black eyes that beckoned her into bed.

‘Excuse me?’ Anna said, affronted—or rather trying to be, because in his arms she didn’t quite know who she was. ‘I leave tomorrow.’

‘That gives us tonight.’

If it had been anyone else she’d have turned on her heel and walked off, or slapped his cheek, or...

But it wasn’t anyone else.

He made the inconceivable—a one-night stand—somehow seem viable.

Anna felt the pull to step into a new persona.

And she felt danger. Not the type where your hair stands on end in fear, or your heart pounds at the prospect of imminent disaster. It was more that she felt the danger of recklessness calling to her. Because instead of walking away, she remained in his arms.

Anna felt flustered. Indignant. Curious. Bewildered...

‘We haven’t even kissed,’ she pointed out.

‘I can remedy that now, if you like.’

‘No!’

Yet still she didn’t walk off. Instead, her burning face returned to his chest.

One night...

It should offend her—ithadoffended her—but now the initial sting of indignation had gone his response played over and over in her head as they continued to dance.

A remedy.

This night felt exactly like that. A remedy. Dancing, laughing, flirting, wanting...

Anna hadn’t dated in years. There were slim pickings in the village. Aside from her being a single mother, there was so much gossip—as well as the fact that her father was the local vicar...

There was the internet... And yet she couldn’t imagine paying a babysitter and leaving Willow to go and meet someone she’d met online.

‘Everything you do reflects on us.’

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