The Consequence He Must Claim(60)

She pressed her lips to keep them from trembling. His face was blurring and she sniffed. “You’re not just saying that?”

“When have you ever known me to be sentimental for the sake of it? Sorcha, I love you.”

She sniffed again and threw her arms around him. “I love you, too.”

“Finally,” he groaned, tightening his arms around her.

“I love you so much.” She started to cry.

“No, mi amor,” he murmured, catching her up then sitting her in his lap as he lowered to the sofa. “Please don’t cry.”

“Happy tears,” she assured him, arms around his neck. Kissing his throat. “Happy, happy, happy.”

He cradled the side of her face and covered her mouth, kissing her sweetly. Lovingly. Then he looked into her eyes. “I’m happy, too. I didn’t know love could feel like this. So beautiful. So right. I adore you, mi amor. Stay with me always.”

“I will,” she promised.





EPILOGUE

SORCHA DID WHAT she swore she would never do and pulled rank with Cesar’s assistant, overriding concerns that Señor Montero was anxiously awaiting the completion of this report and sending her out for a long lunch.

Then she knocked on his office door and walked in without waiting for him to grant entry.

“I said I didn’t want to be—” He looked up, recognized her, recognized what she was wearing, and sat back, expression speculative.

Sorcha couched a smile, pleased to have just knocked her husband speechless.

Smoothing her hands down the blue skirt that was just a teensy bit too short to wear in the office, she walked toward him, dropping her purse in the first chair she passed, pausing to shrug out of her short jacket and revealing the top that was going to burst its buttons despite the fact Enrique had weaned ages ago. Apparently these postpregnancy breasts were here to stay.

Licking her lips, she leaned both hands on his desktop and said, “Do you know what today is?”

Cesar slowly leaned forward, like a man who was about to negotiate, but his one hand shot out to cuff her wrist, pinning her in that position of leaning forward across his desk. Without a word, he lifted his other hand and flicked her buttons.

The taut fabric loosened as the opening gaped, revealing her lacy bra. Her nipples, raised with anticipation as she’d prepared for this meeting, visibly protruded against the fine silk cups.

He casually moved the dangling sapphire pendant out of the way, resting it behind her shoulder so the chain gave a little pull across her neck. Then he leisurely enjoyed the view.

“I believe it’s Tuesday,” he said in a voice that held a rasp she recognized. He was really turned on. “The ninth.”

“It is exactly five years since my date of hire,” she announced.

His gaze finally came up to hers. “Well, aren’t you the efficient PA, coming to tell me that.” He flattened his hand over hers, like he was gluing her palm to the desktop. “Do not move.”

He rose and came around the desk to stand behind her.

She could imagine what he saw: her skirt about to burst its seams over a bottom that was almost but not entirely back to her prepregnancy figure. Her shoes were far too high and sexy for a real day of work in the office, but perfect for seducing one’s husband with a bit of role playing.

She playfully arched her back and cocked a hip to ensure he had the best possible view.

“I believe a raise of some kind is in order,” he murmured, and slowly began to lift her skirt.

She closed her eyes, instantly seduced by the warmth of his hands sliding up the outsides of her thighs, taking the hem of her skirt up, up, up. Her stomach fluttered. Cool air washed across her thighs. A moan of excitement began growing in her throat.

“Did you lock the door?” he asked, pausing.

“I am an extremely efficient PA, sir. The door is locked and the girl has been sent for a long lunch. The phone is going to voice mail.”

“I love you,” he groaned, hands finishing the job then splaying hotly across her buttocks. “You’re naked!”

“I took them off in the ladies’ room down the hall.”

“You want to kill me, don’t you?”

They almost killed each other. Two hours later, they were sprawled in a tangled heap across the sofa where they’d first made love, naked, champagne open on the table, bodies lethargic with sexual satisfaction, when they heard a thump beyond the door.

“If my ears don’t deceive me, that’s the sound of a handbag going into the desk drawer,” Sorcha murmured.

Cesar cursed and they both sat up to reluctantly begin gathering their clothes.

“Oh, um—” She shot him a sheepish grin as she wriggled her skirt up her hips. “I had another reason for coming into the city today.”