The Helen Bianchin Collection. Helen Bianchin

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ran its tip along the lower edge.

      His eyes flared, watching the movement with mesmerised fascination.

      Almost as if he could not restrain himself, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against her temple, then pressed each eyelid closed before trailing down to the edge of her lips. His touch was as light as a butterfly’s wing, caressing, loving, and she wanted to cry out against his flagrant seduction.

      ‘I expressed my adoration with the touch of my hands, my mouth…my body,’ Alejandro declared. He lapsed into Spanish, then repeated the words softly in a language she understood. Erotic, explicit, undeniably earthy. Yet heartfelt and without any pretence.

      Soft colour flooded her cheeks, and her lips trembled as a low husky chuckle emerged from his throat.

      ‘Have I shocked you?’ he mocked gently.

      A wicked smile curved her generous mouth. ‘Did you intend to?’ she queried, offering deliberate temptation as she lifted her arms and linked them carefully at his nape, only to gasp as his mouth closed over hers with deep, drugging possession.

      He gave no quarter, and she expected none as she met and matched his ardour, exulting in the feel and taste of him, the heavy thudding beat of his heart as it pounded against her own in unison, the sheer sensation of knowing he was hers. It was a heady power, one she knew she would never choose to abuse.

      Minutes later she cried out as his mouth left hers to trail down her throat, and she arched her neck to allow him access to the sensitive hollows, gasping as he teasingly nipped delicate skin, then slid to begin an open-mouthed suckling at one silk-covered breast that caught her slender frame in a paroxysm of sensation.

      ‘You are wearing too many clothes, mi mujer,’ he chastised huskily minutes later as his fingers began to deal with the buttons on her blouse.

      ‘Hmm,’ she agreed with a delicious smile. ‘So are you.’ Her eyes danced with wicked amusement. ‘There’s a problem,’ she announced with seeming regret, and felt his fingers still as he looked at her in silent enquiry.

      ‘Ana is serving dinner at seven.’

      His eyes darkened with ill-concealed humour. ‘Next,’ he murmured huskily, ‘you’ll tell me you’re hungry.’

      She wrinkled her nose at him. ‘We could eat first, then retire early.’

      ‘Flattering, to be relegated second to food.’

      ‘I promise I’ll make it up to you,’ Elise declared, and he smiled, the creases deepening as they slashed each cheek.

      ‘Interesting.’

      ‘It will be,’ she teased. ‘It’s the reason I need to keep up my strength.’

      His fingers moved to refasten slowly the buttons on her blouse, then he kissed her with such incredible gentleness that it was all she could do not to wind her arms up around his neck and tell him to make love to her now.

      ‘Then let us go downstairs and sample what Ana has chosen to serve us.’

      They ate a leisurely meal, deliberately pacing themselves, each increasingly aware of the moment they would rise from the table and go upstairs to their suite.

      There was a sense of anticipation that became more acute with every passing minute, a sensual teasing as they indulged in a playful game.

      More than once Alejandro paused in the process of eating to lift his glass and utter a salute in a drawled collection of Spanish words that required no interpreter to define them.

      ‘After your son is born, you’ll have to censor your words,’ she chided with an attempt at severity, and failed miserably beneath the liquid warmth of his gaze.

      ‘I have no intention of withholding from him how much I adore his beloved mamá.

      She had a mental image of a small dark-haired boy with mischievous dark eyes, running, laughing, infinitely loved by his parents. And later, God willing, there would be a little girl for him to protect and adore.

      Elise speared the last segment of fruit from her plate and lifted it to her mouth, biting the firm flesh of deliciously fresh melon with a delicacy that brought a brilliant flaring to the eyes of the man seated opposite.

      ‘I suppose you are going to insist I take coffee?’

      Her eyes openly teased his, sparkling with unguarded humour. ‘Caffeine,’ she explained knowledgeably, ‘is supposed to stimulate the brain.’

      His dark gaze became languid, a displayed deception that didn’t fool her in the slightest as he queried in a silky drawl, ‘And it is my brain you particularly want to stimulate?’

      She swallowed the last of the melon, then ran the edge of her tongue lightly over the curve of her lips. ‘I would be disappointed,’ she declared with slight emphasis, ‘if you proved less than…capable,’ she finished delicately.

      His eyes became faintly hooded, and the edge of his mouth assumed an upward curve. ‘Witch,’ he responded with deliberate lightness as he sat back in his chair and savoured his wine.

      Aware of his propensity to conduct a leisurely lovemaking, extending her pleasure to a point where she became wholly, solely his, before tipping them both over the edge into a state of passionate oblivion, she wondered at the wisdom of baiting him.

      At that moment Ana entered the room and began clearing the table, her movements sure, deft, and unobtrusive.

      ‘That was a lovely meal,’ Elise complimented gently, and was rewarded with a pleased smile.

      ‘Gracias. Will you have coffee here, or in the lounge?’

      Elise glanced towards Alejandro, who merely raised one eyebrow in silent mockery as he transferred the responsibility for a decision.

      ‘Would you mind bringing it out on to the terrace? It’s such a beautiful evening.’

      ‘My wife is a romantic,’ Alejandro drawled, sparing Elise a long, thoughtful glance that curled her toes.

      ‘The evening sunset,’ Ana agreed with a slight nod. ‘Such lovely colours.’

      ‘Indeed,’ he acknowledged, and his beautifully chiselled mouth widened slightly as he got to his feet and crossed round to assist Elise from her chair.

      Seconds later, as they moved out on to the terrace, his arm curved lightly round her waist, its warm strength a tangible entity that crept through her skin and seemed to liquefy her bones.

      The swimming-pool looked intensely blue in the soft fading light, its surface reflecting a mirrored sheen that was duplicated on the waters in the inner harbour.

      Elise’s gaze wandered out towards the horizon where ocean met sky, breathing in deeply the clean sea-air as she savoured the slight breeze that teased her hair and faintly stirred the leaves on various trees.

      Alejandro shifted slightly to stand behind her, his hands linking protectively over her thickening waist as he drew her back against him.

      She

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