He was as good as his word. From the moment that he lowered her feet to the floor so that she was under the flow of the heated water, he took charge of everything. Isabelle didn’t even have to find the strength to stand upright as he supported her on one muscular arm, lathering scented shower gel all over her acquiescent body with his free hand.
‘Mmm, that feels good.’
Eyes closed, she edged round until she was leaning back against him, the soft hairs on his chest brushing the sensitive skin between her shoulder blades, her buttocks fitting snugly against his pelvis. With two hands available now, the pleasure of his massage more than doubled, long, caressing sweeps of his firm fingers alternating with gentler, deliberately lingering strokes over her breasts and dipping down between her legs.
‘Don’t stop,’ she begged. ‘Please don’t stop.’
She didn’t know at what stage simple pleasure turned to hunger, at what point hunger became desire. She only knew that the firm pressure of Luis’s fingers sliding all over her skin was a delicious torment that woke every one of her senses and set them clamouring all over again.
And it was only too obvious that Luis felt the same. The heated pressure of his aroused body against hers was the last straw, driving all thought of restraint from her mind. Twisting round again, she pressed herself close to him, lacing her arms around his neck.
‘I want you now,’ she whispered in his ear, her words half drowned by the rushing water. ‘Right here. Right now.’
His sigh was both a sound of delight and surrender to a force that was stronger than either of them.
‘Your wish is my command, querida…’
The next moment she was lifted off her feet, her legs encircling his narrow waist, her back against the steam-damp tiled wall. He thrust into her with a guttural sound deep in his throat, his mouth closing over hers, his tongue echoing the more intimate invasion of her body.
It was hard and hot and fast and gloriously fulfilling. The water pounded down on their heads, its heat and pressure adding to the tumult of sensations ricocheting through Isabelle’s wildly excited body. She had never climaxed so fast, so fiercely, never been so totally out of control. And when it was over both of them sagged against the walls of the cubicle, struggling for the return of some sort of reality.
She was only vaguely aware of the moment Luis finally reached up a hand and switched off the shower. Of him wrapping her in a thick, soft towel and taking her with him back into the bedroom. Drying her tenderly as a mother, he carried her to the bed, laid her down and pulled the downy quilt up over her exhausted form.
The faintly cool touch of the covers roused her slightly and she caught at his hand when he would have eased away.
‘Don’t go! Don’t leave me.’
‘Leave, amada? Never. This is just the start of things. We’ve only just begun.’
Already sleep was claiming her, rolling through her mind like mist coming in from the sea, but she knew the moment he joined her in the bed, felt the heat of his long, powerful body, the strength of the arm that came round her waist, pulling her close up against him.
‘Sleep for now, querida,’ he murmured, pressing a swift, soft kiss on her cheek. ‘And when you wake I’ll still be here. I’ll always be here. I’m never going to let you go again.’
Another kiss, more lingering this time, landed on her hair, and the arm that held her tightened.
‘Now you know exactly why I want you back. You’re mine. We belong together. Tonight has proved that.’
‘We belong together.’ The words gave her hope. Hope that if she spent more time with Luis, if she went back to living as his wife, they might just have a future together. ‘There was no way I could let you go,’ he had said.
It was enough. When she had believed that he would never want her anywhere near him again, it was more than enough. It was a beginning. Something to build the possibility of a future on. They had a long way to go, but they had taken the first steps.
In the darkness Luis stretched lazily, lying on his back, with one hand behind his head, staring up at the ceiling as he let the tides of sleep wash over him.
His body ached with a bone-deep satisfaction, his clamouring senses stilled for a while at least. At his side Isabelle lay, deeply asleep, her slim body softly curved towards his. He would let her sleep for now
. There would be plenty of time to talk—and more—in the morning.
A wide grin spread across his expressive mouth and he stretched again, sighing in deep, luxurious contentment. Things might work out after all. Whatever had happened in the past was the past. Isabelle was here, with him now—and surely she couldn’t have responded to him as she had tonight if there was anyone else in her life?
But one way or another, he was determined there was no going back. Isabelle was his wife, and she was here to stay.
Turning over on his side, he draped a possessive arm around his wife’s still form, closed his eyes, and fell deeply asleep.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE weather in Andalucia was totally different from the cool winds and miserable, drizzling rain they had left behind in Yorkshire. As Isabelle alighted from the powerful car that had taken them on the last stage of their journey she stepped out into warm, bright sunshine and only the gentlest of delicate breezes.
But somehow the warmth didn’t seem to reach inside her. It brushed over her skin, the breeze tangled in her hair, but it didn’t touch her heart, which remained as fearful and uncertain as ever.