Fate, she now thought, had seen fit to throw them together for a reason, and the reason was this.
She took his hand and placed it on her breast, and she loved as he drew in his breath sharply, as if in the grip of something over which he had no control. When he guided her hand to him, it was completely natural and when, after a blissful and leisurely foreplay, they made love, it was glorious. Wonderful. If she could have made time stand still, she would have done so. She would have liked to bottle the memory and kept it close to her for ever, so that she could breathe it in whenever she wanted.
‘What are you thinking?’ Rafael asked, propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at her.
‘I’m thinking that I’m normally in bed at this hour.’
‘You are in bed.’
‘In bed and asleep,’ she amended, laughing contentedly, the cat in full possession of the cream.
‘And would you say that you’re happy doing without your beauty sleep?’ he asked lazily. She had satisfied him beyond expectation. After her initial apprehension, because the unknown was always so much scarier than the reality, she had been sexily and mind-blowingly responsive, thrilling at each touch, whimpering with the enjoyment of having him lavish her fulsome body with caresses. There was not an inch of her that he hadn’t explored, and he had enjoyed every second of the exploration.
‘I think it’s made a very nice change,’ she said demurely, and then laughed when he took offence and nipped her on the neck. He placed his hand squarely between her thighs and worked her flesh so that his knuckles grazed that already sensitised area.
She would have liked to be more expressive on the subject, but a part of her was still finding it hard to believe that this magnificent man was really interested in her. There was also a part of her that was nursing a small thought which had taken root at some point during their very long and very languid love-making session. It was a thought that filled her with a warm glow and for the moment she wanted to keep it to herself because, after all, this was the first night they had spent together. What if he got bored with her? He seemed to have a short attention span when it came to women, but Cristina wasn’t going to dwell on that. Instead, she thought of how great it felt being in love, because she knew, with complete certainty, that she was in love with him.
Maybe he had had plenty of women in the past, maybe he had had an unhappy experience when he was young and foolishly married the wrong woman—but he was older now, and she liked to think that the very fact that she was so unlike the women who littered his past was promising.
‘“Nice” is such a non-word,’ Rafael chided. He replaced his hand with his thigh which he moved rhythmically between her legs.
‘That’s not your ego talking, is it?’ she teased, half her attention focused on what was going on with her body, which was stirring into arousal even though they had barely stopped touching each other for the past few hours.
‘We males are a fragile breed,’ Rafael returned silkily.
‘Perhaps I should say that it was earth shattering.’
‘Now that is a definite improvement.’ He cupped one heavy breast and then bent so that he could lick her nipple, which stiffened in immediate response. When he began suckling on it she gave a stifled groan and began moving against him, and this time they made love with hunger and urgency, their hands and mouths uniting as they explored each other’s bodies. She did to him what he did to her, tasting him and enjoying his hardness, every inch of it.
She finally fell asleep and woke to a room flooded with sunlight and no sign of Rafael.
But there was a note. The note informed her that he would be in touch, and she carried it with her for the remainder of the day. Just having it on her made her heart sing. She literally felt light-headed with emotion and when, the following day, she picked up her telephone to hear his dark, velvety voice on the other end of the line, it was all she could do not to tell him just how very happy she was.
And events over the ensuing three months moved at the speed of light.
Rafael, she discovered, was not a man who did things in halves. He wanted her, and she was more than ready to accommodate him. Playing hard to get was not in her repertoire of feminine wiles, even when Anthea, who had viewed the proceedings with jaundiced eyes, told her that Rafael didn’t appear to be the sort of man who would feel comfortable wearing an apron and putting out the garbage.
‘He’ll never have to wear an apron!’ Cristina laughed. ‘Why would he?’
‘What a lucky man,’ Anthea said wryly. ‘Most women expect their guys to share the duties.’