‘Luis…’ she breathed, needing to say his name, then choked into silence again as knowing hands eased the sliver of satin that was her only covering down the length of her legs, his tormenting mouth following it all the way.
Only then did he pause to throw off his own clothes, dropping them carelessly wherever they fell, and sliding down onto the bed beside her, gathering her into the heat of his body.
And now his kisses were fiercer, thrilling in their demand. His touch had lost that careful restraint, becoming instead the urgent, hungry caress of a man close to the edge of his control. Long, tanned fingers closed over the thrust of her breasts, taking their weight into the warmth of his palms. His thumbs stroked over the creamy curves, encircling the swollen peaks until she moaned aloud in agonised delight and arched her back against the support of the pillows behind her.
‘I’ve waited so long for this,’ Luis muttered against her heated skin. ‘So long—too long. A lifetime, it seems.’
‘Too long,’ Isabelle echoed on a sigh that broke into a high-pitched cry of delight as his mouth took the place of his hands, his tongue tracing the same tormenting path as his thumb had followed just seconds before. ‘Too long…’
‘But now there will be no more waiting…no more time. Now you are back where you belong…in my bed…’
‘Yes…’
It was a cry of affirmation, a sob of ecstasy as his lips closed over her nipple, drawing it into the heat of this mouth and suckling hard. The stinging sensation of delight made her writhe frantically beneath the imprisoning weight of his body, her head twisting from side to side on the pillows. She closed her eyes tight, the better to concentrate on the sensation that spread throughout her body. Every pleasure spot she possessed seemed to be linked in a burning golden chain of arousal, all of it centred on and radiating out from that one core point of her being.
And the hunger between her legs was a throbbing need that had her shifting restlessly, moaning her need, incapable of putting what she wanted into speech.
But Luis had no need of words, no need for instruction. He interpreted her needs, anticipated them with the intuitive instinct of a lover. His fingers slid through the moist curls at the most feminine core of her body, stroking her intimately, a rough growl of satisfaction sounding in his throat as he discovered just how hungry for him she was.
‘Querida… Mi mujer…’
All his English deserted him. He could manage only his native Spanish, the words rough and incoherent, muttered in a voice that was thick and raw with need.
‘Amada…amada…’
His voice thick with passion, his eyes blazing, a wash of dark colour marking the sculpted lines of his cheekbones, he pushed her legs apart and inserted his long body between them.
Isabelle lifted her hips to meet the force of his invasion, opening to him, welcoming him, drawing him as deeply into her as she could manage, and she heard his wild cry of satisfaction as the hot silk of her closed about him.
For a second, simply lying there was enough. Simply knowing he was with her, inside her, filling her, was satisfaction after all the long, lonely days, months, years, of being without him. But in the space of a heavy, thudding heartbeat that satisfaction changed into a new desire, desire into demand, and she began to move underneath him.
‘Isabella,’ he choked. ‘Mi mujer…’
Hard hands clamped down on her shoulders, holding her still, as he took charge of their lovemaking, slowly at first, then faster, harder, stronger. His passion-lit gaze burned down into hers, his head thrown back, his jaw tight, as he lost control. The hot, fierce thrusts grew wilder, more forceful, taking both of them higher and higher until at last, with a harsh cry, he put his arms around her, gathering her up to him, and his lips crushed hers as they lost all connection with reality and the world splintered around them.
It was the start of a long, hot night. When eventually Isabelle focused again, she just lay, letting her breathing slow, her heart stop racing to the point of bursting. Beside her, she heard Luis stir, sigh with weary satisfaction and stretch lazily.
‘You okay?’ he questioned softly, his accent very pronounced, his voice husky.
‘More than okay,’ Isabelle answered dreamily. ‘Much more than okay.’
At that point she must have drifted into sleep because the next time she opened her eyes it was as Luis slid from the bed and padded silently across the thick carpet heading for the bathroom.
As Isabelle lay in drowsy contentment, she heard the sound of the shower being turned on, water splashing onto the tiles. The next moment Luis was back, easing the quilt from her lazy body, lifting her in his arms.
‘Hey…what are you doing?’
It was a feeble attempt at a protest because the truth was she didn’t care. As long as he was there, with her, with the warm satin of his body against hers, the strength of his arms enclosing her, the scent of his skin in her nostrils, he could do anything he liked and she wouldn’t complain.
‘Don’t panic,’ he murmured, shouldering open the glass door and carrying her inside the cubicle. ‘I just thought you’d like a shower.’
Hiding a smile against the strength of his shoulder, Isabelle injected a mock protest into her voice.
‘Do I have to? It sounds rather over-energetic to me.’
His laughter was low, full of genuine amusement, sounding deep inside the powerful chest against which her cheek rested.
‘Trust me, mi angel, you won’t have to do a thing. Just leave everything up to me.’