His Suitable Bride(150)

Which was just what he wanted.

Another pin found and tossed aside. And another.

And with each one that loosened he could bury his fingers deeper in the smooth strands. Her hair really was amazingly silky; it slid underneath his fingertips like slippery satin, fine and sleek and so sensual to the touch. And as the strands were released, falling loosely around her face, down onto her shoulders, they gave up a soft, clean perfume, a mixture of some tangy citrus and an intensely feminine scent, one that immediately gave him a kick of sensuality as he recalled that it was the way her skin had smelt up close as he had held her in his arms when they danced. The twisting feeling low down in his body was so unexpected, so powerful that for a moment he paused, fingers still tangled in her hair as he fought down the very primitive masculine response.

‘I’m surprised you don’t have a blinding headache after keeping your hair pinned up like this all day.’

He made himself say it calmly, his tone under control; he even let himself stroke his fingers along the silky strands, enjoying the feel of it against his skin, making her perfume rise to his nostrils again.

‘I have—had,’ Alexa admitted. ‘I’ve been wanting to pull the pins out all afternoon.’

Instinctively she arched her neck, pressing her skull back against his fingers and shaking her head to feel the freedom of the now loose hair.

‘That feels so much better.’

Santos fought a battle with himself against the urge to tangle his fingers in the tumbling mane, twisting it to hold her just where he wanted her while he kissed her newly softened mouth. But he did allow himself to comb his hand through it, adding to the tousled effect that fell around her face. The looser hairstyle, the touch of disarray suited her far more than the way it had been tightly drawn back from her face.

‘Then why did you ever wear it like that?’

‘Oh, it was Petra’s idea. She planned everything for this wedding. She wanted it to be perfect for …’

Her voice faded away and he saw the hesitation and uncertainty in her eyes as she looked up at him, white teeth digging into the swell of her bottom lip.

‘You can say her name,’ he said softly. ‘The world won’t come to an end if you mention your sister. So everything had to be perfect for a wedding Natalie wasn’t going to attend.’

‘No …’

That made her bite into her lip even more and, unable to stop himself, he reached out a finger and laid it across her mouth, easing it away from the sharp teeth that worried at it.

‘Don’t,’ he said, as much to himself as to her, because no sooner had he touched the softness of her skin than he wanted to linger, to stroke his fingertip along her mouth, feel its soft flesh give underneath his touch, perhaps even slide into the moist warmth at one corner. That way she would be forced to taste him, to know the flavour of his skin against her tongue.

The need to taste her too, to know the softness and the warmth of her mouth under his, was like a savage clutch on his senses, tugging them into burning life. He wanted to take that slightly trembling mouth and crush it underneath his until it quivered in a totally different way, shaking in raw surrender to the passion he awoke in her. But still he held back. And he knew that that piqued and provoked her from the way that her elegant brows drew together in a quick, faint frown, one that she immediately hurried to smooth out again.

‘I don’t think she planned to run out on you when she agreed to the wedding.’

‘You don’t?’

‘No.’

The word snagged in her breath, making her gasp as she spoke. Her reaction was as much to what Santos was doing as to the things she was trying to say. Those wickedly enticing, tantalising hands were still in her hair, smoothing and stroking, and every inch of the surface of her skin tingled in sensual reaction to the feel of his touch.

And she had been so sure that he had been about to kiss her just a moment before. The way that that strange, light-eyed gaze had lingered on her mouth had made her throat dry in shock and anticipation. She could almost feel a sensation as if his lips were touching hers, so intent was that stare, almost a physical caress in itself.

‘She wanted the wedding to start with—wanted you.’

‘Until you persuaded her otherwise.’

Something had changed, altering the atmosphere dramatically. His hand had stilled as he spoke and without the slow, hypnotic stroking she suddenly felt a chill creeping over her skin. There was something she had been forgetting—that her mind had dodged away from, but she should have been thinking of it all along. A man like Santos wasn’t likely to simply accept a platonic relationship. Not with the woman he had planned on marrying.