He’d been eleven.
‘There’s nothing to deflect,’ he said, his vocal cords loosening under the force of his will. ‘I’m perfectly in tune with my feelings.’ To compound his point he flashed her a grin. ‘Especially my baser ones.’
* * *
Charley undressed and quickly readied herself for bed while Raul made a phone call in his study.
She stared at the emperor-sized bed, at its plush seductiveness with the black sheets and plump pillows, inviting her to enter.
She wondered how many other women had been invited to enter it, before she could turn the thought away.
Turning the sheets back, she climbed in and lay down on her side of the bed. Strange to think that since leaving him she could have slept dead centre when in her own bed but had still favoured ‘her’ side.
She turned off the bedside light, flattened her pillow and burrowed herself into the sheets. The Spanish summer was hitting its stride but you wouldn’t know it in this room where Raul had set the air conditioning to arctic.
Hopefully he would be kept busy making his phone calls and she would be fast asleep when he came up.
As was the contrary nature of sleep, it wouldn’t come, her brain far too wired to switch off.
She found her mind turning over the evening’s meal with his family. Maybe it was because she knew there was a time limit to the number of times she would share a meal with them but tonight she’d observed everything like a distant spectator, the fear of doing something wrong, something less than perfect, gone.
In all the years of their marriage she’d always thought Raul lucky to have such a close family and had envied him. How had she never noticed the undercurrent of poison there, especially between Raul and his father? Polite, gracious poison for sure, but poison all the same.
Her stomach clenched when she thought of her own family, the half-brothers she so wished would accept her as one of their own. What would Raul say if he learned she’d bought them a home each too? He’d accuse her of trying to buy their love and he would be right because that was exactly what she’d done. Except, as with everything else she did, she’d failed. She was more like her father than she’d ever thought possible. But she didn’t want to be like him. She wanted to be like her mum, her sweet, naïve, hardworking mum who deserved everything good life had to offer.
She shut her eyes, trying to shake the direction of her thoughts and all the misery she’d thought she’d escaped when she’d married Raul, the man who’d made her feel like a princess even if only at the beginning...
A noise caught her attention and she heard the tread of his approach, followed by the creak of the bedroom door opening.
Squeezing her eyes together even more tightly, she concentrated on making her breathing deep and even. Hopefully he would assume she was asleep and leave her alone.
She heard him go into the bathroom, listened to the muffled sound of water running as he brushed his teeth. A slant of light came into the bedroom when he stepped back in, and she opened one eye a fraction. It took a few seconds for that eye to adjust to what it was seeing—Raul stripping off.
In the beat of a moment her mouth ran dry.
In no time at all he was down to his snug boxer shorts, his beautifully defined chest silhouetted against that tiny beam of light in all its glory; broad and hard, a smattering of dark hair running across his pecs and thickening the lower it ran...
Forget deep and even breathing. When his fingers hooked the sides of his boxers and tugged them off, pulling them past his strong thighs, all the air in her lungs went into hibernation.
His silhouette moved back to the bathroom and turned the light off, plunging the bedroom into darkness.
Too late she remembered her plan to feign sleep.
The bed dipped, the sheets rustled and a large, warm figure slid in beside her.
The dryness in her mouth became a memory as moisture filled it...and a lower part of her anatomy.
Immediately she pressed her thighs together in a futile attempt to counteract the heat filling between them and closed her eyes, anticipating the moment he reached out and pulled her to him.
Did she have the strength to even pretend lack of interest, when every part of her felt so heightened?
It felt as if she waited for ever for him to make his move, every passing minute dragging on to the next.
Nothing.
He lay on his side facing her, making her scold herself for not having faced the wall rather than the centre of the bed. She might have her eyes shut but she could feel his gaze upon her.
‘Well?’ she said, before she could stop her tongue from speaking. ‘Isn’t this the moment when you take your next payment?’
He shifted closer to her, his face near enough for her to feel the warmth of his minty breath.