Kate Walker - The Alcolar Family

She could feel the heat of his skin where her arm touched him, seemed to be surrounded by the clean, intimate scent of his body, and he was so close that his breath caressed her cheek as he spoke, its warmth stirring her hair, drying her mouth.

‘You—you know why!’

‘No.’

The cloth was plucked from her nerveless fingers, tossed in the vague direction of the sink, and then he took hold of her arms, spinning her round so that she had no option but to face him. But she couldn’t look up so as to meet his gaze, instead staring fixedly at the point where the open neck of his white shirt lay open revealing the bronze skin and muscular strength of his throat, and just the beginning of his broad chest.

Even that was bad enough.

Her fingers itched to touch, to slide in at the open edges of the shirt and feel the warm satin of his skin, the crisp curl of body hair under their tips. Her lips actually tingled, knowing that all she had to do was to purse them slightly, lean forward a little, and they would rest against the muscles, the sinews, under the tanned covering of his flesh. In spite of herself, she inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of him, drawing in as much of him as she could without actually making contact.

‘Tell me why. And don’t mention the damn doctors!’

That brought her head up, sharply, protest flashing in her eyes. She would have pulled away but the strength of his arms, linked apparently loosely, at the base of her spine held her back. If she pulled against it, she knew that that seemingly gentle hold would tighten. She would be held a prisoner, fighting a futile battle against his superior strength. And that would give too much away. Much more than she dared risk anyway.

‘That just isn’t fair and you know it. I have to mention the doctors—I don’t have any alternative! They only let you home on the condition that I looked after you and in order to do that I have to follow their instructions—to the letter.’

Joaquin’s silence made her even more uncomfortable than ever. He had narrowed his eyes until only the jet gleam showed through the curtain of long black lashes and his mouth had completely stopped smiling and was clamped into a thin, hard line. Every instinct she possessed warned of danger but she couldn’t heed the caution. This was no longer a question of concern for herself, but for his health.

For that she was prepared to fight him as hard as she could.

‘You were told to take things easy and I intend to make sure that you do just that! And I don’t think that—that what you have in mind is taking it easy.’

She could almost read his train of thought in his face as a gleam started up in those newly opened eyes and a wicked grin played over the sensual mouth.

‘It could be, if we let it.’

One strong hand strayed upwards, drifted over her hair, smoothly it softly, the tenderness of the gesture pulling at her heart.

‘I could take it very easy…’

His proud head lowered very slowly, making her heart skip a beat as she guessed at his intentions. The soft, lingering pressure of his lips against the side of her temple, her ear, her cheek made her melt, swaying in towards him in spite of her resolution not to.

And that moment of weakness left her in no doubt at all that for all his calm demeanour, his subtle, sensual approach, Joaquin was hotly, heavily aroused, the bulge of his masculinity pressing tight against the black denim of his jeans.

‘Joaquin…’

She struggled to find a voice with which to argue with him. She had to argue. She had no other choice.

‘Cassandra, querida —I don’t have to make any effort at all. If we were to go to bed…’

Once more his tormenting mouth teased at her nerves, caressing the line of her jaw, before moving to tantalise her lips, his tongue sliding out to trace around them delicately.

‘And I’m sure that the stern doctors would approve of my taking to my bed so early in the evening…’

‘No…’ Cassie tried again, but her voice had no strength, no authority.

‘Then you could do all the…’

That wicked mouth quirked up into the most sinful grin that he directed straight into her troubled blue eyes.

‘All the work… And I could just lie back and think of Spain.’

The image that sprang into Cassie’s mind at just the thought was so burningly erotic, making the heat rush through her veins, her head swim, so that she closed her eyes against the force of it. But that was a definite mistake. The sensual images persisted, projecting onto the back of her eyelids the impression of Joaquin lying back in the bed, and herself straddling him, both of them naked, her paler skin looking almost white in contrast to his long, bronzed body.

‘Joaquin!’ His name was a groan of effort, pushed from her by the struggle not to give in. ‘Joaquin, stop it !’

‘You stop me,’ he challenged, the rich, dark sensuality of his voice implying that he knew only too well that she would not.

She could feel his smile against her skin, just before those tantalising lips caressed again, moving away from her mouth and down… down, driving her to arch her neck in sensual response. The vee-necked dress she wore gave him access to the vulnerable spots at her throat and shoulders, something he immediately took advantage of.

His hands knew just where to go as well. Starting on the swell of her buttocks, they stroked and smoothed their way upwards, pressing her close to the straining heat of his erection as they went. At her breasts the knowing fingers cupped the soft weight, closing around them as the heat of his palms reached through to her delicate skin. And they traced tantalisingly erotic patterns over her curves, drawing provocative circles round and round her tightening nipples, tormenting her with the ‘so near and yet so far’ effect that came from feeling his touch through the fine cotton of her dress, the barely there lace of her bra.

‘Joaquin…’

This time his name was a sigh. A sound in which she could hear her own control evaporating, her resistance ebbing away.

Clearly Joaquin could hear it too. She felt his tiny laugh of triumph in response against her shoulder blade and shivered in instinctive reaction as it was followed by the faint graze of his teeth over the sensitive surface of her skin.

‘So stop me,’ he muttered thickly, the rough, fraying edge to the words revealing how fast his hold over his own passion was slipping. ‘If you really mean it, say the word. But say it now, damn you, before it’s too late.’

Say the word .

The hoarse-voiced command barely penetrated the hungry haze inside Cassie’s head. Passion had scrambled her brain, leaving it impossible to think clearly.

The word .

What word?

What should she say if she wanted him to stop?

And she did want him to stop.

Or did she?

She knew she should tell him to stop. There was too much danger, too many complications if she went down this sensually enticing path. Too much to lose.

But she still couldn’t find the word.

The restless clamour of her senses had drowned out the functioning of her brain. Somehow the importance of common sense and self-preservation didn’t weigh enough to outbalance the hungry need for this man. Perhaps if she hadn’t been apart from him for that week, if she hadn’t missed his lovemaking already…

‘I knew it.’

The triumph in his voice was even richer and darker now, and hearing it sent a tiny chill shivering through Cassie, tempering her ardour for just a moment. Reluctantly she opened her eyes, focused on the dark, stunning face above hers.

And was shaken back into reality by the sight of the discoloured, spreading bruise on his forehead, reminding her sharply of his injury.