8 Brand-New Romance Authors

She turned and looked at him, blinking her lashes rapidly over her eyes. ‘It’s not as if it was a real wedding—if it was I’d have insisted on Emma being there.’ She shrugged and looked back out at the retreating coastline. ‘Besides, you only had your cousin.’

‘Raul is my family.’

‘I’ve never heard Emma or Carlo mention him before.’ She rubbed her hands on her arms as if cold.

‘He’s my mother’s brother’s son, so not a blood relation to Carlo.’ His clipped words caught her attention.

‘You make it sound as if having a stepmother and half-brother is a bad thing.’

This was the first window into his life he’d allowed her to see through, and it made him feel vulnerable, but he was strangely compelled to talk and continued.

‘My father and I were happy enough after my mother left, but when she died in an accident a few years later my father went to pieces. It was as if he’d been waiting for her to come back to him.’

He’d never told anyone that before. Talking of his childhood was something he just didn’t do. But memories rushed back at him now like a sea wind, keen and sharp.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly, touching his arm. ‘It hurts when a parent leaves. As a child you feel...’ She paused and his heart constricted. ‘Responsible, somehow.’

He looked down at her upturned face, at her soft skin glowing in the late afternoon sun, her eyes full of genuine concern. When was the last time anyone had been concerned about him? He wanted to talk to her, share his memories with her. After all she knew something of his pain—his research on her had proved that.

‘My father had a second youth—dating women as if they were going out of fashion. So when he met the woman who would later be my stepmother it was a relief. He settled down again. I just hadn’t expected to be excluded from the family when Carlo was born.’

She frowned slightly but said nothing, her steady gaze encouraging him to talk.

‘As time went by Carlo became the centre of everything and I stood on the outside, looking in. I refused to compete for my father’s attention. When I left university I began to take over the running of the investment business and my father spent more and more time with his new family.’

‘But surely they loved you?’

He could see pity in her eyes, the image he’d painted for her, and anger surfaced. He did not need her pity. Just as he hadn’t needed his father’s love as a boy.

‘Love, Georgina? What is that?’

His words were sharper than he’d wanted. He sensed her draw back from him, both physically and emotionally, and was thankful when she didn’t say anything else.

‘You’re cold,’ he said when she shivered. ‘We will go inside and eat.’

As far as he was concerned the discussion was now closed.

He led her inside and even he was stunned at the intimacy of the small feast that had been prepared for them. The large table was set at one end, just for two, candles glowed and rose petals were scattered across the cream tablecloth. He heard her stifled gasp of shock and smiled.

‘Your staff have excelled themselves,’ she said softly as she came to stand beside him. ‘It looks divine.’

The intimacy only increased once he was seated at the table with her, the soft glow of candlelight casting her face into partial shadow. Her shoulders were bare apart from the one strap of the dress. They looked creamy, soft, and he wanted to touch her skin, to kiss it, taste it.

Food was the last thing he wanted.

* * *

Determined not to be put off by Santos’s sudden change of subject, and desperate to keep her traitorous body under control, Georgina spoke. ‘I can remember my father walking away late one summer’s evening. It was dark and hot, and later there was such a storm I worried all night about him. It sounds like it was tough for you too after your mother died.’

He’d almost opened up to her—almost let her in.

His face hardened and she knew she’d touched on a nerve.

‘It was. But I’m not going to talk about such things now.’

He offered her some of the delicacies on the table, his fingers brushing hers, causing her to look up into his eyes.

‘There are far better things to talk of on our wedding day.’

Our wedding day.

The words hung in the air between them as his dark eyes held hers. She should say something—anything. But she couldn’t. The intensity of the attraction sparking between them was too much.

‘You’re not eating.’

He glanced quickly at her untouched plate and her pulse-rate leapt as once again his gaze held hers.

‘It’s looks delicious, but—’

‘You’re just not hungry?’ He cut across her words, then took her hand, his own tanned one covering hers easily, sending shock waves of heat up her arm, and she was glad he’d forgotten the talk of his family.

‘No,’ she answered boldly, and wondered what he would say if she told him just what she did want right now. Would he laugh at her if she told him that all she could think of was kissing him, feeling his arms tight around her? She just couldn’t fight the attraction any longer.

‘So what does my sweet bride want?’ He raised her fingers to his lips, dropping lingering kisses to each finger, and all the while he watched her, his eyes darkening with desire. ‘Remember,’ he teased, his voice deep and heavily accented. ‘No pretence—not tonight.’

‘I want...’ She paused and smiled coyly at him as he waited. ‘You.’

Shock laced with excitement fizzed in her veins as he raised his brows, slowly and suggestively. Once more he kissed her fingers, each time lingering longer, until she couldn’t stand the anticipation any more.

He stood up from the table, keeping a tight hold on her hand, and pulled her up against him, holding her close.

Music began to drift around the room, reminding her that they were far from alone, that the crew and staff were lingering in the background to do his bidding. The disappointment she felt at not being totally alone with him shocked her. She wanted what they’d shared over the last few days.

‘It is a tradition, is it not, for the bride and groom to dance together?’

He was so close now she could smell fresh pine mixed with the musky scent of pure male. It was intoxicating.

‘In England it is, yes.’ Her voice was little more than a husky whisper.

‘Then we dance.’

He walked away from the table, guiding her to the middle of the room as the gentle rhythm of the music continued. When he held her close once more her knees threatened to give way, so intense was the attraction between them. It was an attraction that had been stamped out several times already, but Georgina knew this time it was going to be different—because this time she wanted him with a fever that engulfed her whole body. He was her husband now, and despite trying not to she had feelings for him.

This was how a bride should feel, and she pushed back memories of the clinical registry office service when she’d married Richard. It might only be for this one night, but she knew she had to live for the moment—had to surrender herself to it completely. This could be her one chance of sampling such heady romance.

As those thoughts flickered to life in her mind Santos kissed her—a soft, lingering kiss that held the promise of passion, one that awakened every nerve in her body. She deepened the kiss, closing her eyes against the onslaught of pleasure which crashed over her like waves onto the beach as she pressed close against him, feeling the evidence of his desire.

Breaking the kiss, he began to move her slowly around the room to the sound of the music. How could a dance be so erotic, so loaded with sexual tension and the promise of passion? The intensity of it was so much that she longed to give in and rest her head against his shoulder, close her eyes.

No pretence...not tonight.

His deep, husky words replayed in her mind.

Should she allow herself to taste what it might be like to love a man? To feel what it would be like to be loved back? Santos certainly seemed to be playing the part of devoted lover today. She didn’t think for one moment it wasn’t part of the charade they had created, but right now, as his arms held her close, the idea of happy-ever-after seemed tangibly close.

She laid her cheek against his shoulder, a soft sigh escaping her as she closed her eyes. He tensed, and she knew he hadn’t been able to abandon the idea of pretence completely. He was as on edge as she was, which made her a little less vulnerable—because together they could abandon the carefully constructed façades they each lived behind.

His arms tightened around her body, pulling her closer to him, and heat raced through her. As he pressed his lips into her hair she closed her eyes again, the sensation too much, and focused all her attention on the music instead of the feel of his strong body.

As she moved with him she realised the movement of the yacht had changed and glanced at the shoreline.

‘Have we stopped?’ Her words were husky. She’d never heard her voice like that.

‘Sí, querida.’

He brushed his lips over hers as she looked up at him, sending another flurry of tingles skittering over her.

‘We are to anchor here tonight. The crew and staff are leaving. They will be back in the morning.’

‘So we will be completely alone out here?’

‘Very much so.’

He stroked a hand down her face and she fought the urge to turn and kiss it.

‘Does that worry you, querida?’

It should worry her, but it didn’t. She wanted to be with him like this, to feel his body against hers, to taste his kisses. How could she pretend otherwise?

She searched the dark depths of his eyes, dropping her gaze to his lips briefly before looking back into his eyes. ‘Should I be worried?’ A flirty edge had slipped back into her voice as she struggled to keep her emotions under control and stay behind the safety of the barrier she’d erected long ago.

His voice was deep and incredibly sexy as he rubbed the pad of his thumb over her lips, making her lose those last doubts.

‘Only if you don’t want me to sweep you up into my arms and carry you to the bedroom.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

RIGHT NOW THAT WAS all Georgina wanted. It was all she could think about. It was as if the gently lapping sea beyond the yacht and the warm breeze had conspired against her. The luxury of everything was feeding the romantic dream she’d long ago abandoned.

But for tonight at least she could live it. Tonight she would live it—would allow herself to taste what she’d never thought possible.

‘What more could a girl ask for from her groom?’

Her heart thumped in her chest and her breathing deepened, so that she had to drag every breath in, but still she couldn’t quite let go of the bravado she always hid behind even as her body yearned for his.

In one swift movement he swept her feet from the floor to hold her firmly in his arms. The silk of her skirt fell apart at the slit and the heat of his fingers on her thigh scorched her skin, bringing a blush to her cheeks.

He swung round so that the tiny spotlights in the yacht’s ceiling blurred behind him as she watched his face. It was set firm, as if his jaw was clenched.

‘Then we will waste no more time.’

The depth of his voice, so sensual, laden with intent, sent a ripple of awareness cascading over her.

She felt every step he took as he marched through the living area. A harsh Spanish curse left his lips as he reached the curving stairs which she guessed led to the bedrooms. Only vaguely aware of her surroundings, she remained focused on his face, but when he looked down at her the intensity of desire burning in his dark eyes made her smile.

He didn’t smile back. His face remained set in firm lines. ‘Damn stairs,’ he growled, and turned his body slightly as he carried her upwards.

She reached up and touched his face, a small sense of triumph shooting through her as he dragged in a ragged breath. His skin was smooth, despite the darkness hinting at fresh stubble growth as her fingers slid down to his neck.

‘You can put me down.’ Her voice was barely above a whisper.

‘Not until I have you where I want you.’

The strength of his words made her shiver with excitement.

As he reached the top of the stairs she looked around her and saw open double doors through which was the most magnificent bedroom she’d ever seen. Briefly she took in the dark mahogany furnishings and the big bed, its cream covers scattered with pink rose petals, as Santos walked briskly towards it.

Gently he placed her on the bed, and she leant back on her arms as he stood like a magnificent bullfighter at the side. She trembled as he looked down at her, his eyes as dark as the depths of the ocean.

Nervousness suddenly washed over her. It had been a long time since she’d been in a situation like this, with a man openly desiring her, his intentions clear. Would he be expecting the practised lover that society thought she was? The temptress she willingly portrayed herself to be?

‘And this is exactly where I want you, querida.’

As the slow, purposeful words came huskily from his lips she watched him undo his tie and drop it to the floor, his jacket soon following.

Hungry for him, she let her gaze devour the strength in his arms as his white shirt pulled tight across his biceps. She bit her lip as he undid the top buttons, exposing dark chest hair and tanned skin. All the while he watched her with such intensity she knew she would be powerless to resist him.

Keeping her gaze locked with his, she reached up to her chignon, but something in his expression stilled her hand. The smouldering passion she saw in his eyes sent a dizzying current through her.

‘Don’t.’

His voice was harsh, and the arrogance that surrounded him maddened and excited her at the same time.

‘But...’ she whispered as he stepped closer to the bed, towering over her, dominating the very air she breathed.

‘I’ve wanted to free your hair all day.’

He knelt on the bed beside her, his weight making her sway towards him as the mattress dipped. Within seconds he’d released the pins that secured her hair and she felt it slide over her shoulders.

‘I’ve wanted to see it around your shoulders in all its glory.’

She closed her eyes against the sensation of his body so close to her, inhaling the intoxicating male scent that was uniquely Santos. When his lips pressed briefly against her shoulder she gasped softly in pleasure.

She opened her eyes and turned to face him, momentarily shocked at how close he was. His handsome face was only inches from hers. ‘Santos...’ she whispered as he kissed her cheek, her forehead, her nose, stoking the ever growing heat deep inside her.

‘I want you, Georgie,’ he husked out between each kiss. ‘I want to make you mine.’

‘I want that too.’ And she did. Nothing else seemed to matter now except the two of them.

He silenced her with a long, lingering kiss that drew every ounce of reservation from her body, replacing it with unadulterated need. A small sound of pleasure escaped her lips as he broke the kiss, only to be smothered as his lips claimed hers in another greedy kiss that rocked her to the core.

* * *

Santos shook with need as he deepened the kiss. Never before had he felt as if he was on the edge of control with a woman—but then never before had a woman played so hard to get.

Her hand touched the side of his face, her palm pressing his cheek as she kissed him back, need for need, her tongue teasing his. He broke free of the kiss and looked at her full lips, already bruised from his kisses, then to her eyes, darker than he’d ever seen them.

She moved back from him, further up the bed, and a hot stab of lust grabbed him as her slender legs were exposed yet again. Teasing and testing him. He took hold of her foot and slowly undid one sandal, pulling it from her before tossing it to the floor.

She smiled and for a moment he thought he saw shyness in her eyes, but then it was gone as she lifted her other foot. He took it, and again slowly removed the sandal, but this time he didn’t let go of her ankle. Unable to help himself, he smoothed his palm up her leg, past her knee, until it slid underneath the silk of her dress. A dress he desperately wanted to remove from her.

She closed her eyes and dropped her head back against the bed, a look of total abandon on her face as his hand slid higher. The warmth of her skin was almost too much for him. Patience, he urged himself. This was a night to take it slowly. This was a woman to savour.

He reluctantly moved his hand down her thigh, past her knee and back to her shapely ankle.

‘How does a man get his wife out of her wedding gown?’

His voice was uneven and ragged. He was using every last bit of control just to stop himself from taking her right now.

‘At the back.’

The words were a tremulous whisper, serving only to excite him further. He was used to his lovers being bold, but he liked this air of innocence she’d adopted.

She sat forward, waiting for him to unzip the gown. Sitting back on his heels, he steadied himself as he reached behind her and undid a clasp, then slid the zip down her back. His anticipation almost boiled over with every breath she breathed against his naked chest. Her scent invaded his senses and he dragged in a deep breath, tasting her.

At last the bodice of the gown sagged around her and he moved back, catching a glimpse of creamy soft breasts as it slipped lower. Part of him wanted to rip the gown from her, but a more disciplined part of him wanted to savour the moment, to make it special for both of them. It was, after all, their wedding night.

He kissed her, pushing her back against the pillows as his tongue delved deeper into her mouth. She tasted of champagne and his senses fizzed like a shaken bottle. Her arms wound their way around his neck, pulling him down to her, pressing against her.

He spread his hand over her bare shoulder, enjoying the feel of her skin, then slowly slid it downwards—until he met the resistance of the gown’s bodice and wished he had ripped it from her.

She moved beneath him, thrusting her breasts upwards, inviting him to touch them—an invitation he had no trouble in accepting. His hand pushed aside the bodice, cupping her breast, his thumb and finger rubbing over the hardened nipple.

‘Oh, Santos,’ she whispered against his lips as her body arched even more. Need rocked through him.

Words failed him as he kissed down her throat, over her collarbone and down to her breast, finally taking her nipple in his mouth as her fingers ploughed through his hair. But still it wasn’t enough. He wanted more—much more.

He pulled himself away from her, smiling at the disappointment on her face as he did so. ‘This has to go.’ He took hold of the bodice of her gown and pulled. Her breasts were slowly revealed, and then, almost erotically, her flat stomach and her beautifully shaped hips were laid bare to his hungry gaze. ‘So beautiful, mi esposa.’

She smiled at him. And again that shyness he’d glimpsed earlier was in her face as she lay partially naked before him.

He kissed her stomach, revelling in his mastery as her body arched towards him again, begging him for more even if the words didn’t come from her lips. Still lower his kisses went, until he found the silk of her panties. She bucked wildly beneath him then, almost undoing the control he was desperately hanging on to.

He looked up at her, at her dark hair spread about her on the pillow in sexy disarray, eyes closed as she enjoyed his touch. No sign of shyness now.

Agilely he rose from the bed, amused at the expression on her face as she looked at him, questions in her gorgeous eyes. As he pulled the wedding gown down she lifted her bottom, enabling him to pull it away in one go, leaving her dressed in only cream silk panties.

She looked divine.

And she was his.

‘It’s not very fair if you remain dressed, is it?’ Her smile was coy and teasing as she looked up at him, completely at ease with her near nakedness. An accomplished temptress.

He undid the remainder of his shirt buttons with deft fingers and pulled it from his body. Her gaze roved hungrily over his body before finally meeting his eyes, and passion charged around him as his heart thundered like a herd of wild horses.

The air was electrified and he pulled off the remainder of his clothes without breaking eye contact. Her eyes were sending him a secret message of desire and need. How had he ever thought this woman cold?

* * *

Georgina couldn’t help but look at him. Arrogantly naked before her, confidence in every move he made. She knew he’d achieved his aim. He’d made her desire him, want him completely. Every nerve in her body ached for his touch and being naked to his gaze excited her. Never before had she wanted a man as she wanted Santos.

Shyness took over once more, but she tried to act as if being naked in front of a man—a man as naked as she was, who so obviously desired her—was something she was more than used to. She watched as he sat back on the bed, his legs astride hers, rendering movement almost impossible. His aroused body was magnificent, and so very tantalisingly close to her, intensifying the rush of need, of raw desire she’d never known before.

He hooked a finger in the top of her panties, his gaze locking with hers. ‘These too.’

Before she could say or do anything he’d pulled them down. The silk slid from her effortlessly and, in what she could only guess was a well-practised manoeuvre, he pulled them from her legs and threw them to the floor without moving from her at all.

She was exposed, naked and vulnerable, but for the first time in her life she didn’t care. All she cared about right at this moment was satisfying the burning need she had for this man.

Her husband.

Her body ached for the fulfilment of his body. She wanted him in a way she’d never dreamt possible, and sparks of excitement at the prospect of being his shot round her.

He bent low over her and kissed her stomach before moving down further, his breath warm, sending fire gushing through her. She closed her eyes to the pleasure of his exploration. When she thought she couldn’t take it any more his kisses moved back up her stomach to her breasts. In turn he kissed each hardened nipple. He pushed first one knee between her legs, then the other and, giving herself up to an instinct as old as time itself, she opened her legs, wanting to feel him deep inside her, desperate to be at one with him.

Her fingers gripped his shoulders as his erection nudged her moistness. He lowered himself onto her, kissing her as his body shook with the effort of holding back. She felt his heated hardness teasing her, and then, just when she thought she couldn’t take one more second of it, he thrust deep inside her. She gasped at the pleasure of his possession, her fingers gripping ever tighter to his shoulders as she moved with him. Her legs wrapped around him, pulling him deeper into her, and he groaned in Spanish and thrust harder, deeper.

Their rhythm increased until she couldn’t help but cry out in joy. A new and exciting sensation washed over her and she opened her eyes to look out of the sloping windows above the bed, feeling as if she too were flying among the stars that now sparkled above her in the night sky.

Santos’s body shook and he cried out before burying his head in her hair, his body pressing hers into the bed. She wrapped her arms tightly around his back, keeping him there, wanting to feel him deep within her.

Finally her heart-rate began to slow and her breathing returned to normal. Santos lifted his head and looked into her eyes. ‘Now you’re truly my wife, Georgie.’

She didn’t know what to say—what to do, even—so she just smiled back, her body still too sluggish with the aftermath of passion.