Postcards From Madrid. Lynne Graham
her head back and bit off tiny pieces. Never until that moment had it occurred to him that watching a woman eat could be a sensual experience. He was absolutely fascinated.
‘What would you like to talk about?’ she asked cheerfully, flopping back against the piled-up pillows to finish her champagne.
‘My stuffy good manners prevented me from asking how you and your sister came to have different fathers,’ Antonio admitted.
Sophie tensed, but tried to laugh off her discomfiture. ‘Oh, that’s no big deal. Belinda’s father was married to our mother, Isabel. He was an oil executive and he wasn’t home much. Isabel met my father when he was painting their house—’
‘He was an artist?’
‘He painted walls, not pictures,’ Sophie told him thinly. ‘Well, he got her pregnant with me and she left her husband for him…’
‘And?’ Antonio prompted as the silence dragged.
‘My father was no great catch and Isabel soon realised her mistake. When I was a month old, she went back to her husband and left me behind with Dad.’
‘That must have been hard for your father—’
‘Dad would do just about anything for money and Isabel sent him money every month until I was sixteen. She never visited me. Apart from the handouts, she just blanked out the whole affair like it and I never happened.’ Sophie tipped up her chin, a defiant glint in her expressive green eyes.
‘She was probably ashamed of what she had done,’ Antonio murmured gently, seeing the pain that she was struggling to hide. Reaching over, he linked his fingers with hers in a comforting gesture that was as instinctive as it was unusual for him. ‘You did very well without her, querida.’
‘You really think so?’ Antonio was so close that Sophie could hardly catch her breath.
‘You bend but you don’t break,’ Antonio breathed a little thickly, leaning over her to let a soothing fingertip score the soft pink fullness of her lower lip in a touch as light as silk.
The faintest suspicion of a breeze was ruffling the curls against her shoulder. She was very still, heart pumping like crazy below the towel. Her breasts felt tight and confined and a restive energy was filtering through her. Her whole focus was on him. If he didn’t kiss her she thought she might die from the cruel disappointment of it.
A masculine thumb brushed against a springy blonde loop of hair in a movement so subtle she wasn’t quite sure it had happened. His scorching golden eyes collided with hers and the knot of tension deep down inside her tightened. ‘I love your hair…it has a life of its own.’
‘Antonio…’ she whispered, stretching back against the pillows, letting her head fall back, bright corkscrew curls spilling out and catching the light of the sinking sun. She felt shameless but she was being driven by a craving much stronger than she was.
His breath fanned her cheek. He took his time and let his mouth toy with hers. Longing snaked through her in a fierce, almost frightening surge. Without even knowing what she was about to do she pulled him down to her. He resisted and laughed huskily, gazed down at her with shimmering dark golden eyes full of satisfaction.
‘I don’t respond well to the whip and chair approach,’ he mocked.
She felt foolish and exposed and temper leapt into the chasm. In a split second she had rolled away and sat up. ‘I’m not a joke!’
Stunned by the immediacy of her rejection, Antonio sprang up in concert. ‘Por dios, I was teasing—’
‘No, you weren’t…you were crowing!’ Sophie accused tempestuously. ‘Well, before you get carried away with the idea that I’m too enthusiastic—’
Antonio reached out and tugged her straight back into his arms. ‘You firebrand…you could never be too enthusiastic for me. You turn me on so hard and so fast that I can’t think this close to you,’ he admitted in a roughened undertone.
On the brink of fighting loose again, Sophie paused and fixed huge anxious green eyes on his lean, strong face. ‘Truthfully?’
He spread long brown fingers to frame her cheekbones and his hands were not quite steady. ‘I’m burning for you, querida.’
She felt the truth of it in his raw urgency and she trembled. ‘Then stop playing games—’
‘I’m not playing.’ Antonio claimed a long, hard, potent kiss that made her grip his arms for support and left her head swimming. ‘Believe me, I didn’t bargain on this—’
‘You can’t plan everything—’
‘But I do,’ he growled in frustration, coming back for another fierce and hungry taste of her. ‘This shouldn’t be happening—’
Her small fingers delved into his luxuriant black hair to pull his head back. ‘Then…stop!’
His smouldering golden gaze struck sparks from hers. ‘I can’t…I wanted you the first time I saw you nearly three years ago. Now I want you even more.’
At that admission, her troubled eyes shone like stars and she screened them. But she still wanted to shout her joy from the rooftops. What he felt wasn’t love, but then she had never hoped for love from Antonio. His desire was enough to satisfy her deep, desperate need for some kind of response from him. It wouldn’t last, naturally it wouldn’t, she thought feverishly. But a desire to match her own was there for the taking now and she was not too proud to seize the moment.
He crushed her lush lips beneath his again. The sweet, stabbing invasion of his tongue in the tender reaches of her mouth made her gasp out loud. He lifted her effortlessly up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. His strength left her breathless. Resting her down on the bed, he undid the towel. Unprepared for that instant unveiling, she crossed her arms over her nakedness in an instinctive movement.
Antonio surveyed her startled eyes and hot cheeks in surprise. ‘You can’t be shy with me…’
‘I’m not shy,’ Sophie denied to the best of her ability, taking advantage of his momentary stasis to shimmy away. Pulling back the bedding, she slid speedily under it with more than a suggestion of a crab scuttling below a rock for cover. ‘Not the slightest bit shy,’ she added with determined emphasis, and she sat up to embark on the buttons on his shirt in an effort to distract him.
‘Let me look at you, then.’ Antonio closed long fingers into the sheet she had wrapped below her arms and tugged it down before she could even guess his intent. The tantalising jut of her pert breasts provoked a ragged groan of appreciation from him. He caught her to him with one powerful arm, bent her back against him and explored the firm creamy swells with unashamed expertise. His slightest touch set her tender flesh on fire. Her teeth clenched, her hips shifting on the sheet beneath her. When he toyed with the rosy crests that were swollen and sensitised by his attention, she was unable to suppress the moan rising in her throat.
‘You’re even more beautiful than I thought you would be, querida,’ Antonio breathed thickly, hungry dark golden eyes welded with all-male admiration to the ripe, rounded curves he had revealed. ‘And a hundred times more responsive.’
Straightening up to his full height, he finished unbuttoning his shirt and peeled it off. As he shifted position sleek, strong muscles flexed in his strong brown torso and accentuated the powerful breadth of his chest and the rock-hard flatness of his abdomen. Ebony curls liberally shaded his pectorals. She pulled in a sudden gulp of air to her starved lungs. Her heartbeat had quickened to a pulsing thump behind her breastbone: he was spectacularly male. She couldn’t drag her mesmerised attention from him until he unzipped his trousers and embarrassment claimed her, forcing her to drop her gaze.
‘Come here,’ Antonio urged softly.
She scrambled up on her knees, glancing up at him from below her curling lashes, her face burning from the awareness of her nudity. With a husky groan, he just reached for her as though