His Ultimate Prize(55)

Get a grip, Sasha. She reined herself in and pulled away as reality sank  in. She'd kissed Marco de Cervantes-fallen into him like a drowning  swimmer fell on a life raft.

'We're here,' he rasped, setting her free abruptly to spear a hand through his hair.

'Y-yes,' she mumbled, cringing when her voice emerged low and desire-soaked.

With one last look at her, he thrust his door open and helped her out.

They entered the exclusive apartment complex in silence, travelled up to  the penthouse suite in silence. Sasha made sure she placed herself as  far from him as possible.

After shutting the apartment door he turned to her. Sasha held her  breath, guilt rising to mix with the desire that still churned so  frantically through her.

'I have an early start-'

'Sasha-'

Marco gestured for her to go first.

Sasha cleared her throat, keeping her gaze on his chest so he wouldn't  see the conflicting emotions in her eyes. 'I have an early start  tomorrow. So...um...goodnight.'

After a long, heavy pause, he nodded. 'I think that's a good idea. Buenos noches.'

All the way down the plushly carpeted hallway she felt his gaze on her.  Even after she shut the door behind her his presence lingered.

Dropping her clutch bag, she traced her fingers over her lips. They  still tingled, along with every inch of her body. Resting her head  against the door, she sucked in a desperate breath.

One hand drifted over her midriff to her pelvis, where desire gripped  her in an unbearable vice of need. A need she had every intention of  denying, no matter how strong.

Wanting Marco de Cervantes was a mistake. Even if there was the remotest  possibility of a relationship between them it would be over in a matter  of weeks. And she knew without a shadow of a doubt that it would also  spell the end of her career.

And her experience with Derek had taught that no man-no matter how  intensely charismatic, no matter how great a kisser-was worth the price  of her dreams.





 CHAPTER SEVEN

'COFFEE...I SMELL coffee,' she mumbled into the pillow, the murky fog of  her brain teasing her with the seductive aroma of caffeine. 'Please,  God, let there be coffee when I open my eyes.'

Carefully she cracked one eye open. Marco stood at the foot of her bed,  in a dark green T-shirt and jeans, a steaming mug in his hand.

'If I demand to know what you're doing in my bedroom so early, will you withhold that coffee from me?'

There was no smile this morning, just an even, cool stare, but awareness drummed beneath the surface of her skin nonetheless.

'It's not early. It's eight o'clock.'

With a groan, she levered herself up, braced her back against the  headboard. 'Eight o'clock is the crack of dawn, Marco.' She held out her  hand for the cup. He didn't move. 'Please,' she croaked.

With an uncharacteristically jerky movement he rounded the bed and  handed it to her. Sasha tried not to let her eyes linger on the taut  inch of golden-tanned skin that was revealed when he stretched. Her  brain couldn't handle anything so overwhelming. Not just yet.

She took her first sip, groaned with pleasure and sagged against the pillow.

'You're not a morning person, are you?'

'Oops, my secret is out. I think whoever decreed that anything was  important enough to start before ten o'clock in the morning should be  hung, drawn and quartered.' She cradled the warm mug in her hand. 'Okay,  I guess now I'm awake enough to ask what you're doing in my room.'

'I knocked. Several times.'

She grimaced. 'I sleep like the dead sometimes.' She took another  grateful sip and just stopped herself from moaning again. Moans were  bad. 'How did you know to bring me coffee?'

'I know everything about you,' he answered.

Her heart lurched, but she managed to keep her face straight. Marco  didn't know about her baby. And she meant to keep it that way.

'I forgot. You have mad voodoo skills.'

His eyes strayed up from where he'd been examining the vampire on her  T-shirt. 'No voodoo. Just mad skills. As to why I'm here-I have a  meeting in the city in forty-five minutes-'

'On a Saturday?' She caught his wry glance. 'Oh, never mind.'

'I wanted to discuss last night before I left.'

Her breath stalled in her chest. 'Yes. Last night. We kissed.'

A sharp hiss issued from his lips. Then, 'Sí, we did.'

She bravely met his gaze, even as her heart hammered. 'Before you  condemn me for it, you need to know I don't make a habit of that sort of  thing.'

His very Latin shrug drew her eyes to the bold, strong outline of his shoulders. 'And yet it happened.'

'We could blame the wine? Oh, wait, you barely touched your glass all evening.'

'How would you know? You were neck-deep in discussing the Premier League.'

She sighed. 'What can I say? I love my footie. Which club do you support?'

'Barcelona.'

She grimaced. 'Of course. You seem the Barcelona type.'

He shook his head. 'I don't even want to know what that means.'

Silence encased them. She took a few more sips of her coffee,  instinctively sensing she'd need the caffeine boost to withstand what  was coming.

Marco raised his head and looked at her. The tormented gleam in his eyes  stopped her breath. 'What happened last night will not happen again.'

Despite telling herself the very same thing over and over last night,  she felt a sharp dart of disappointment and hurt lance through her. She  feigned a casual tone. 'I agree.'

'You belong to my brother,' he carried on, as if she hadn't spoken.

'I belong to no one. I'm my own person.'

His gaze speared hers. 'It can't happen again.'

Again the uncomfortable dart of pain. 'And I agreed with you. Are you trying to convince me or yourself?'

He shook his head. 'You know, I've never met anyone so forthright.'

'I believe in being upfront. I'm nobody's yes-woman. You need to know  that right now. I kiss whomever I want. But kissing you was a mistake.  One that I hope will not jeopardise my contract.'

His gaze hardened. 'You value being a racing driver more than personal relationships?'

'I haven't had a successful run with relationships but I'm a brilliant  driver. I think it's wise to stick to doing what I do best. And I'd  prefer not to lose my job because you feel guilty over a simple kiss. I  also understand if you have some reservations because of your brother.  Really, it's no big deal. There's no need to beat yourself up over it.'

Running out of oxygen, she clamped her mouth shut.

This was yet another reason why she hated mornings. At this time of day  the natural barrier between her brain and her mouth was severely  weakened.

Throw in the fruitless soul-searching she'd done into the wee hours, and  the resultant sleep-deprivation, and who knew what would come out of  her mouth next?

He shoved a forceful hand through his hair. 'Dios, this has nothing to  do with your contract. If you were mine to take I'd have no  reservations. None. The things I would do to you. With you.'

He named a few.

Her mouth dropped open.

Lust singed the air, its fumes thick and heavy. Her fingers clenched  around her mug. Silently, desperately, she willed it away. But her body  wasn't prepared to heed her. Underneath her T-shirt her nipples reacted  to his words, tightening into painful, needy buds.

'Wow! That's...um...super, super-naughty.'

Hazel eyes snapped pure fire at her. 'And that's just for starters,' he rasped.

Her breath strangled in her chest.

In another life, at another time...

No! Even in a parallel universe having anything to do with Marco would be bad news.

'I hear a but somewhere in there. Either you still think I'm poison or it's something else. Tell me. I can take it.'

He gave a jerky nod of his head in a move she was becoming familiar  with. 'Last night, at the awards, you spoke of Rafael like a friend.'

'Because that's what he is. Just a friend.'

His jaw clenched. 'You're asking me to take your word over my brother's?'

'Not really. I'm saying give us both the benefit of the doubt. See where it takes you.'                       
       
           



       

He shook his head. 'As long as Rafael sees you as his there can be nothing between us.'

Despite the steaming coffee in her hand, she felt a chill spread through  her. 'The message has been received, loud and clear. Was there  something else?'

For a full minute he didn't answer. Then, 'I don't want you to think that the kiss has bought you any special privileges.'

'You mean like expecting you to bring me coffee every morning?' she  replied sarcastically, a surprisingly acute pain scouring its acidic  path through her belly.

'My expectations from you as a driver haven't changed. In fact nothing has changed. Understood?'

Setting down her mug on the bedside table, she hugged her knees. 'All  this angst over a simple kiss, Marco?' The need to reduce the kiss to an  inconsequential blip burned through her, despite her body's insistence  on reliving it.

He prowled to the window and turned to face her. 'Women have a habit of  reading more into a situation than there actually is.' His raised hand  killed her response. 'While taking pains to state the contrary. But I  want to be very clear-I don't do relationships.'

Her breath fractured in her lungs. 'I'm not looking for one,' she forced out.

His whole body stiffened. 'Then it stands to reason that there shouldn't be a problem.'