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The Spanish Duke's Virgin Bride(44)

By:Chantelle Shaw


‘Bueños dias, querida, did you sleep well?’

Was the faintly teasing note in his voice because he knew she had spent hours tossing and turning while her body throbbed with sexual frustration? He definitely had a Machiavellian streak, Grace decided when she turned her head and met his bland gaze.

‘Like the dead,’ she assured him blithely. ‘I had a wonderfully undisturbed night.’

‘Really? I thought you might have had a nightmare, the way you were squirming around.’

‘I was not squirming.’ She sat bolt upright and glared at him, her cheeks on fire when she noted the wicked gleam in his eyes.

‘Perhaps I was dreaming, then. I wish I hadn’t woken up,’ he added softly, putting up an arm to defend himself when she snatched up her pillow and pummelled him with it.

‘So, you want to play, do you?’ he grinned, taking her by surprise when he took the pillow from her with insulting ease and flipped her onto her back. The teasing gleam in his eyes was still there, but as he stared down at her it faded, to be replaced with stark hunger. ‘You are so very lovely, querida, and I have been so very patient, hmm? Keeping to my side of the bed.’

‘You’re not on your side now,’ she murmured huskily, feeling her body’s instant reaction to the brush of his rough thighs pinning her to the mattress.

‘Neither are you. We are in no-man’s-land, where the rules of warfare no longer count.’

‘I’m not at war with you.’ A lock of hair had fallen across his brow, and with a helpless sigh she gave in to the urge to stroke it back, her fingers shaking slightly as she ran them through the luxuriant black silk. He was so gorgeous, she couldn’t think straight when he was close—and right now he couldn’t get much closer. She should push him away, but instead she curled her hands around his shoulders, revelling in the feel of his satiny skin beneath her fingertips. ‘I thought we had become friends,’ she whispered shyly.

‘Friends.’ He paused to consider the word and then gave her a smile that made her breath catch in her throat. ‘And sleeping partners. Although I think it fair to say that neither of us gets much sleep. Would you agree, querida?’

It was pointless to deny it when she was practically melting beneath him. ‘Yes.’ She swallowed at the lambent warmth in his gaze, and watched as he slowly lowered his head until with a low murmur she closed the gap between them and brushed her lips over his. For a moment he allowed her to control the kiss, but as the fire built he became all intense, dominant male, and claimed her mouth with a drugging sensuality that left her weak with longing.

‘Javier…’ Her lips grazed his throat as she whispered his name, but she made no move to stop him when he slid the strap of her nightdress over her shoulder, exposing one small, creamy breast to his hungry gaze. His lips trailed a leisurely path down to the valley between her breasts as he tugged the other strap down, and when her breast spilled into his hand he bent over her and stroked his tongue across her nipple before drawing it fully into his mouth.

The sensation was so intense that she moaned and twisted her hips in a restless invitation, her mind shuttered to anything but the driving need for him to touch her in the intimate place between her legs. She made no demur when he pushed her nightgown over her hips, but when he hooked his fingers in the waistband of her matching lace knickers a tremor ran through her and she tensed.

‘You want me, Grace,’ Javier muttered, his accent so pronounced that she had to concentrate on his words. ‘Who needs love when we share a passion as deep and intense as this?’

‘I do.’ She closed her eyes on a wave of despair at the impotent frustration in his. ‘You’re skilled in the art of seduction, Javier—no doubt you’ve had a lot of practice,’ she said bleakly. ‘You press all the right buttons and I want you so much it hurts. But without love and trust what would we have, other than a few moments of empty pleasure?

‘Take my body if you want!’ she cried when the bunched muscles of his shoulders and the harshness of his expression warned that he was close to losing his self-control. ‘I couldn’t stop you if I tried, we both know that. But you would demolish what little self-respect I have left, after the things I’ve done recently.’

‘What things?’ Javier demanded savagely. ‘Grace, are you ashamed of marrying me?’ He reared back as if she had slapped him.

‘I’m not proud of lying,’ she admitted huskily. ‘Making false promises in the chapel that I knew I would never keep. But I love my father more than anyone in the world. He should never have stolen all that money from you, but I understand why he did it. He’d suffered enough losing my mother, and my pride was a small price to pay when it meant that he was free from the threat of a prison sentence.’