When she made a full circle and faced Dietrich again she stared into his blue eyes. He continued to hold her hand, and it wasn’t lost on her that he swept his thumb back and forth along her pulse. His skin was smooth and heated and sent tendrils of electricity flaring to life inside of her.
“I think the car is here.” Her words sounded distorted, but maybe that was because her pulse beat rapidly in her ears? Dietrich’s mouth curved into a small smile.
“Yes, I know.”
She licked her lips and looked between the two men. “Maybe we should go?”
“If that’s what you want.” Stellan took a step closer to her, and it took every ounce of her willpower not to lean into him. What in the hell was happening here? If she didn’t know any better she’d think these men were purposefully keeping her off-balance. She had to be imagining things, but how could this all be in her head when they moved closer still? They surrounded her, not only physically but figuratively, too.
“I—” She licked her lips again and heard one of them make a guttural groan. She felt as if she was under water, as if everything was a haze around her. Hell, she couldn’t even be sure which man made the sound. Her arousal was like a living entity inside of her. It was an unusual and uncomfortable sensation that made her feel on edge. Pulling away from them and taking a step back went a long way in helping her breathe easier. But they still had their intense eyes locked on her. “I think maybe we should go, so we’re not late. Mr. Moore, this is a pretty important party for you to attend.” Her hands shook, and she offered a smile that wavered. Turning on her heels she made a hasty escape to the front door. Blythe leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. The deep breath she took in didn’t really help. What she needed was a nice glass of alcohol to help ease the chaotic emotions inside of her. Everything was crazy, and she didn’t know why. Keep it together, girl. That was something easier said than done.
****
The cocktail party certainly wasn’t the intimate gathering she had expected, but then again she was happy for the thick throng of people. It made her feel less noticeable and helped keep her mind off of other things. Things like the two men who were now constantly taking up her thoughts.
The host and owner of the ridiculously elaborate mansion she was currently exploring was none other than Frederique Olivero Santos. Frederique owned several well-known wineries up north. Blythe thought the drive to the party would help cool her down, but in reality it made everything worse. Being confined in the limo with Dietrich and Stellan had been torture. She had sat on one side while they sat on the other, side-by-side. Both men watched her intently, but it became stifling in the small confines when Stellan started murmuring to Dietrich in Portuguese yet again. Neither man took their gazes off her as they had this seemingly intimate conversation in another language right in front of her. She may have felt anger at the rudeness of that, if not for the fact she was so wet and turned on beyond anything conceivably coherent. She had no idea what they said, but she knew they were talking about her. She had been able to pick up a few words, ones that seemed familiar to her from her days in high school when she took Brazilian Portuguese. Her limited and brief encounter with Portuguese had been one of the reasons they offered her this position in the first place. Apparently the fact she hadn’t spoken the language in far too many years wasn’t a concern.
Now, here she was, wandering aimlessly around this huge house trying to stay away from Stellan and Dietrich because she was starting not to trust herself around them. Her body now had a mind of its own, and her arousal was a constant, living entity trying to claim her. She took another sip from her wine glass and turned down the fifth hallway. Her heels made a clicking noise against the hard, smooth ground, but the sound was drowned out by the music that seemed to be filtered out from speakers throughout the entire mansion.
At the end of the hall a door was open with soft lighting spilling into the hallway. She stepped into the room and realized the light came from outside. She was so turned around that she didn’t know if she was in the front or back of the house. Stepping farther into the room she noticed the double doors directly in front of her were open and led out to a veranda. The view was spectacular, and she knew enough about her surroundings that what she was looking at was the center of town in Sintra. The palace at the center of town was visible. It was all lit up like a glorious and scenic postcard. The Sintra Mountains sat in the backdrop and added a hint of romanticism. She finished off her glass of Riesling and set the glass aside. For several long moments she did nothing but stare at the town below that seemed so tiny from her vantage point. She didn’t know how long she stood there, just absorbing the view and the soft breeze that brushed over her, but for the first time since coming to Portugal she felt at ease. Her arousal was still a slow burn inside of her, and drinking the wine hadn’t really helped matters. Blythe had hoped the glass of alcohol would calm her nerves, and it had, to a point, but it also seemed to keep the burn going inside of her.
She was so lost in the surroundings and her thoughts that she didn’t realize someone had come up behind her until she felt a gentle hand land on her lower back. Straightening, Blythe spun around a little too fast. Her arm swung out to brace against the stone banister which caused her wine glass to fall to the ground and shatter. Stellan gripped her arm and before she could even blink had her moved away from the broken glass. For a moment all she could do was look up at him. He still held her arm, and his touch was like a hot brand on her upper arm.
“Careful, querida.” His voice was low, soft, and intimate. She could picture it in the bedroom, which nothing between them and the shroud of darkness adding a hint of sensuality. Yeah, the glass of wine had definitely been a bad idea.
“Thank you.” Those two words came out all breathy and needy, and she cursed herself for how ridiculous she probably sounded. It took him a moment, but he released her arm. She rubbed the spot, as if she could ease the heat he had left behind. His gaze went to the spot that she ran her hand up and down, and a frown marred his face. He turned and rested his forearms on the banister, staring out at Sintra.
After several long minutes of silence he finally spoke. “Did you know Christopher Columbus sailed from Sintra to the port of Lisbon?” Stellan turned his head and looked at her. The light from the city cast a gentle yellowish glow around him. Shaking her head, she moved closer to him, but made sure to keep a safe distance. The last thing she needed was to make a fool of herself, again. “In the late fourteen hundreds it is said he sailed for the Spanish crown, but was blown off course by winds. Of course he worried for his ship, and when he saw Sintra he had no choice but to seek safety in the small town.” Stellan continued to tell her the history, and she found herself enamored by his storytelling and captivating voice.
Blythe grew more at ease in his presence, and even found the nerve to ask some personal questions. “Did you miss Portugal when you lived in New York? I know your father’s family lives here.” He was quiet for several long moments, and she watched as a muscle in his jaw ticked. Had she said something wrong? “I’m sorry. That was so not my business. I apologize.”
The awkwardness and the tension started to surround her. She needed to get out of here and grab another glass of wine. Pushing off the banister, Blythe turned to leave. “I better get back to Mr. Moore and see if he needs anything.” Before she made it three steps Stellan reached out and snagged her hand. Blythe looked at where he touched her then at his face.
“You didn’t ask anything wrong, querida. I just didn’t have the best relationship with my father, and thinking about him makes me remember what an asshole he was.” His thumb brushed over the back of her hand. He pulled her closer, inch by slow inch until their chests almost touched. She could see in her peripheral vision as he lifted his hand toward her face. “He was just an absent father who cared more for his company than he did for his own child.” The pain was laced within his words, and she felt something inside of her chest break for him. She knew all too well about absent fathers.
Then everything else faded away when his palm landed lightly on her cheek. Her lips parted, and he must have taken that as an invitation because he ran the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip.
“You feel so soft, Blythe.” Just hearing him say her name was like an auditory orgasm. His gaze was locked on her mouth, but when he slowly dragged his eyes up to hers she held her breath. All he did was watch her and run his thumb over her lips, back and forth, back and forth. It had a drugging quality to it. After a prolonged moment he dropped his hand from her face, but he wasn’t nearly done touching her it seemed. His big hand landed on her lower back, and in the next instant he pulled her forward until they were pressed chest-to-chest. His erection was hard and very prominent as it pressed into her belly.
Closing her eyes, Blythe needed to get control of the situation. “How did you know I was up here?” Why in the hell she decided to ask that question at this exact moment was beyond her. Maybe subconsciously she was trying to deflect the situation?