Page 35

‘Santiago, it’s…wonderful.’ Her breath hitched and her eyes twinkled with tears in the candlelight. ‘Thank you. No one has ever done anything so thoughtful for me.’
‘How do you know this?’ he asked, her candour, her emotion, suddenly making him feel exposed.
She bit into the full bottom lip he had been yearning to taste all evening, her expression so open and vulnerable and unafraid it scared him a little.
‘I just… I know.’ She pressed a fist to her chest. ‘In here. Does that make sense?’
While it really should not make sense, if he were being entirely rational, somehow it did to him. He had forced himself not to look too closely at why she might have accepted his proposal. But he had always known that her motives were nowhere near as cynical or calculating or selfish as his.
But why would she give herself to him with such passion, and hold nothing back? Was it bravery? Or naivety? Or both.
How could she allow herself to be so trusting when she knew nothing at all of the darkness that lurked inside him?
She blinked, a single tear falling over her lid.
He pressed an unsteady palm to her cheek, her soft skin flushed with heat.
‘Cerys, do not cry,’ he murmured, disturbed now by the way his own heart was punching his ribs. Why had he given in to the impulse to hire a florist and have the villa decorated for their wedding night, when this marriage could never be a love match?
‘I c-can’t help it…’ she sniffed.
He brushed away the single drop with his thumb, then cradled her cheek.
But as he dragged her into his arms, determined not to overthink the impulsive gesture, or her response to it, she pressed shaking palms against his chest, to prevent him from taking what he needed now more than breath.
Her gaze was full of longing and hope—her expression both vulnerable and defenceless—and yet also so fierce.
‘Did you mean it, Santiago?’ she whispered, the tender expression touching the cold, empty corners of his heart which he had relied on for so long to keep him detached, protected, safe. ‘Am I precious to you?’
‘Of course,’ he said instinctively.
But as he drove his hands into her hair, the perfect chignon collapsing under his urgent caresses, the gruff acknowledgement had his heart slamming into his throat.
‘You are mine, Cerys,’ he added, desperate to believe he cherished her for one reason, and one reason only. ‘And I want you more than I have ever wanted any woman.’
He covered her lips, swallowed her soft sob of startled surrender, and proceeded to feast on what was finally his—determined to control the panic and those wayward emotions as ruthlessly as he had controlled so much else in his life.
But as she clung to him and kissed him back, her hunger more than a match for his own, the emotion punched his throat with the force and fury of a sledgehammer.
This isn’t love, it can’t be… Not yet.
Cerys repeated the words to herself as Santiago devoured her, his furious kiss conquering every sigh, every sob.
He boosted her into his arms again, his large hands caressing her backside, the heavy erection in his trousers rubbing against the hot spot in her panties. She wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to him, kissing him back with every fibre of her being. Until the cautious words were swept away on a heady wave of desire. The swell of need gathered pace as she remembered how he had dragged her away from the wedding banquet and then whispered words she had never expected, never even hoped for.
‘You are far too precious for me to risk dropping you.’
The marriage blessing had been terrifying and magical all at once. The only thing tethering her to reality had been Santiago’s solid presence by her side, his gaze filled with passion and purpose as she’d whispered her assent to their union in English then Spanish.
How could this be a mistake, when everything had been so perfect?
She’d tried so hard to keep a firm grip on her expectations throughout the past three weeks, ever since she had agreed to his practical, pragmatic proposal. She mustn’t hope for too much, too soon. If there could be more in their union, it would take time to grow—especially when Santiago guarded his emotions so zealously. She didn’t want to be too reckless, too needy, too vulnerable.
But it had been so hard to keep everything in perspective, as Santiago had said his vows with a firm command which had left no room for doubt. As he’d kissed her with furious need in front of all the people who mattered to him. As he’d watched her with appreciation darkening his eyes to a rich chocolate brown during the feasting and spun her around on the dancefloor as if they were the only people there. As he had grasped her hand and marched through the crowd, ignoring the back-slapping and laughter, his singular purpose had made her insides melt all over again.
The truth was her defences had already been in tatters before he had said the words which had made her heart melt. Because he had already shown her in so many ways today that she was precious to him.
But as he swung her high in his arms to march up the staircase to the bed where they had made love for the first time—and so many times since—the flicker of candlelight and the flowery perfume of the summer meadow bunched on every surface had her hopes lifting even higher.