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He captured one thrusting nipple between his lips, sucking strongly, while his fingers explored the slick swollen folds.
She gasped, panted, moving her hips instinctively against his hand to encourage him to touch the place where she needed him the most.
He circled and caressed but couldn’t quite find the perfect spot he had located so easily before. She gripped his wrist to direct him lower… A fraction of an inch was all she needed.
‘No, Cerys,’ he said, resisting her entreaties. ‘First you must promise.’
‘Promise what?’ she said, frantic now.
‘That you will share my bed until the hunger stops. And there will be no more talk of mistakes.’
Her needy flesh clamoured, yearned, the longing so intense she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.
‘Say yes,’ he demanded, his thumb so close to the aching, tender, desperate spot which would take her to heaven again. ‘And I will give you the relief you seek.’
It seemed like such a small request, to make the yearning stop, so she could reach that sweet pinnacle. Again.
She nodded.
‘Say yes,’ he demanded. ‘You must say the word.’
‘Sí, yes, yes,’ she choked out on a desperate sob, and he stroked across the very heart of her.Finally.
The pleasure exploded along her nerve endings, the glittering shards cascading through her body as he worked the desperate flesh. Ruthlessly, efficiently.
She was still quivering, still steeped in the heady rush of afterglow, as he scooped her up and placed her in the centre of the bed. He gathered her into his arms, the thick erection pressing against her bottom. She writhed against it, wanting him inside her again, needing that connection. But he shifted back.
‘Be still, Cerys. I must give you time to heal before I take you again,’ he murmured against her hair, his voice strained but his arms cradling her so securely.
Again?. Yes, I want you again. So much.
And not just because of the incessant need. But also because his patience, his thoughtfulness, had made her feel more cared for than she had for so long. Too long.
Had she ever felt as safe, as sheltered, as she did right now? Somehow, she didn’t think so. A part of her knew she should be wary… That this desire to be wanted, to be needed, to be held, might be about much more than just sex—for her. But she didn’t want to be cautious any more as the exhaustion swept over her and she snuggled into his arms and let herself drop into a sweet, secure oblivion.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Cerys awoke graduallyto stare at dappled sunlight hitting the wall opposite in a room she didn’t recognise.
Oh, no, not again. Where am I?
Before the panic—that she’d lost another chunk of her past—could set in though, the citrus scent of the lemon orchard and the musky scent of sex invaded her senses. And sharp, vivid memories from the previous evening overwhelmed her senses.
Alejandro’s teasing smile, the sultry fragrance of bougainvillea and expensive perfume on the night air, Santiago’s angry glare, the humiliating march through the orchard… And then.
She breathed through the adrenaline rush, powered by a string of evocative images, each one more erotic and exhilarating than the last…
She levered herself into a sitting position, aware of all the places where she was pleasantly achy. The bed was empty beside her, but the indent on the pillow confirmed the memories were real.
She and Santiago had slept together last night. They’d had passionate, exciting, intoxicating and scarily intense sex—and discovered he was her first lover.
And he hadn’t regretted it. And neither had she. Even though they’d ripped Ana’s dress in the process.
‘I tore Ana’s dress. And I will buy her a new one.’
She scrubbed her hands down her face, a silly grin forming.
Wow. Just wow.