Pregnant At Acosta's Demand. Maya Blake
still stung now warned her that whatever was going on with Ramon, she wanted no part of it.
Exiting the pub into brisk October air, she breathed in deep. And started to walk away.
A firm hand caught her elbow before she’d taken three steps, dragging her to a halt. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Ramon breathed.
With the sounds of the pub now in the background, her every sense was filled with him. She took a step back, fighting the insane sensations that warred inside her. He tracked her move, crowding her with his smell, his overwhelming body, that ferocious look in his eyes.
Much too much. Despite the pathetic weakening in her limbs, she met his gaze. ‘It’s late.’
‘I’m aware of the time of night,’ he murmured, moving closer, brushing her legs with his.
The weakness intensified. ‘I need to... I should go.’
He took another step forward, bracing both hands either side of her head and trapping her against the pub wall. ‘Sí, perhaps you should. But you don’t want to.’
She shook her head, frantically calling on her common sense. ‘Yes, I do.’
He leaned closer, until she could see the tiny gold flecks in his eyes, feel the warm, faintly champagne-tinged breath on her face. ‘You can’t. I’ve yet to give you my apology.’
‘So you admit to owing me one?’
His gaze dropped to her mouth, spiky hunger that fused with hers flaring in his eyes. ‘Yes, but I’m not giving it to you here.’
She managed the almost impossible feat of laughing. ‘You know what birthday I’m celebrating so you know I wasn’t born yesterday.’
One hand left the wall, his fingers drifting down her cheek. ‘I can tell you what you want to hear right here and you can walk away. Or you can let me take you home as I promised Luis I would while giving you that apology. Surely you want to give your friend that peace of mind?’
She shook her head against the magic he was weaving with his low, husky voice and sizzling touch. ‘I’m a big girl. Luis will understand. All I want is that apology,’ she insisted.
‘You want more than that. You want to give in, reach out and take that forbidden thing you’ve been craving for a while now. Don’t you, Suki?’
No.
She opened her mouth, but the word stalled in her throat.
Ramon pushed away from the wall, took a bold step back, then another, robbing her of his closeness, dangling the possibility of loss in her face.
No.
This time the word was in objection of the temptation she knew she shouldn’t surrender to. Suki wasn’t aware she’d followed him to the edge of the kerb until a sleek black limo rolled to a stop behind him. Reaching for the handle, he pulled the door open, his eyes not leaving her face. ‘You will get in the car and I’ll take you home, Suki. What happens beyond that will be up to you. Only you.’
INSTINCTIVELY SHE KNEW her path was set the moment she murmured, ‘Okay.’
Life’s too short. Give yourself a break and live a little.
Suki knew that there would be no turning back the second she let Ramon help her into the car and he slid along the soft leather bench seat after her. The door slammed behind them, cocooning them in silence and edgy lust.
‘Your address?’ he rasped.
‘167 Winston Street, Vauxhall.’
He relayed the information to the driver, then his mouth firmed. ‘There are two dozen pubs between where you live and Luis’s residence in Mayfair. Why do you choose one so far outside of the city?’ he asked, casting an irritated glance at the establishment that stood on a quiet street in the middle of Watford.
‘A uni friend of ours just inherited it from his parents. Luis promised we’d stop by for birthday drinks,’ she said, a little relieved at the harmless tone of the conversation.
He’d activated the privacy partition and tinted the back windows, and now, trapped in the dark expanse of the luxurious car, his scent once again sliding intimately over her senses, she needed something to alleviate it.
Unfortunately, the reprieve didn’t last long. ‘And do you always do what my brother says?’ he asked, a different type of edge lining his voice.
Her fingers tightened around the strap of her handbag. ‘Are you about to pick another fight with me? Because if I recall, we haven’t resolved the last one to my satisfaction yet.’
In the space of one breath and the next, he closed the gap between them. Her bag was plucked from her fingers and tossed onto the adjacent seat. Firm fingers speared into her hair, the grip firm enough to direct her gaze up to his.
Electricity vibrated from his body, the dark, purposeful gleam in his eyes rendering her mouth dry. He stared down at her for an age, their breaths mingling.
‘Lo siento. I’m sorry for my less than admirable assumptions. I am not in the best mood tonight, but that was no excuse, so accept my apologies.’
The words were deep and genuine, momentarily silencing the voice screaming a warning at her. ‘I... Okay,’ she mumbled.
His fingers moved, slowly massaging her scalp in lazy, masterful rotations, triggering a low heat in her belly. ‘Are you satisfied?’ he asked.
‘That...that depends.’
One eyebrow rose but the rest of his face tautened with expectation. ‘On what?’
‘On whether or not you’re about to start another fight with me.’
‘No, querida,’ he breathed. ‘I’m about to start something else entirely. And you know it.’
‘I don’t...’
‘Enough, Suki. I told you what happens next is up to you. But I get the feeling I need to move things along before one of us expires from impatience. So the only word I want out of that delectable mouth right now is yes or no. I want you, gatito. Do you want me? Regardless of my sub-exemplary behaviour tonight. Yes or no?’
Her heart leapt into her throat. For three long years she’d harboured a growing crush on this man. But nowhere in that secret longing had there been a possibility that he would be here, in front of her, saying these words to her. She’d always believed she would wake up one day to find herself cured. She’d dated a handful of men like Stephen who, even before they’d proved themselves faithless, had fallen victim to not being dynamic enough, confident enough, tall enough or dark enough—hell, even Spanish enough.
Stephen’s betrayal had triggered a numbness of her emotions, had finally pressed home every warning her mother had relayed since she turned sixteen. A desperate part of her wished for that numbness now, yearned for a clap of thunder to deliver her from the ferocious lust threatening to swallow her whole.
Because, staring into Ramon Acosta’s eyes, she didn’t think she was anywhere near numb. Anywhere near cured of her foolish crush.
And now that he was free...
Oh, God.
She shook her head; the voice whispering that this was the worst idea she’d ever had grew into a scream. Swallowing, she slicked her tongue over her lower lip.
His fingers convulsed in her hair and a strangled sound escaped his throat. About to utter the word that would free her from this madness, she dropped her gaze. His velvet-smooth lips were so close. And good heavens, she was so hungry for a taste.
One. Just one.
Then she would satisfy herself that he was no god, that