hips, her bottom, which was round and pert and felt delectable beneath his fingers. She was delectable. Soft and womanly beyond imagination.
Rising onto her toes had the effect of lifting her dress. When he skimmed down her thigh he came to bare skin that had him sucking in a breath at its satin sheen and holding her tightly so he could devour her mouth again.
It was her response that so blew his mind. Her hunger was as acute as his own and it fed his.
He could take her now if he wanted and she would welcome him with the breathy sighs that were growing in intensity. God knew, he wanted to take her, this craving like nothing he had ever known.
His exploring hands ran up her bare thighs to find her panties and he slipped a finger under the skimpy material and almost groaned aloud to feel the hot dampness there.
She squirmed against him, one foot running up and down the length of his leg, kissing him, licking him, her teeth grazing his neck then kissing up to brush her cheeks against his beard like a purring cat. He could taste her desire in her kisses, smell it in the heat radiating off her.
Tugging the panties down her hips, he pressed the palm of his hand over the soft, downy hair and felt the gasp that flew from her throat. She pressed her pubis into him but before he could explore any further, her nails suddenly dug through his shirt and into his flesh and she collapsed into him, crying out and shuddering.
And then she stilled.
For a long, drawn out moment Felipe couldn’t find his breath. Francesca didn’t seem to be breathing either.
The only sound he heard with any clarity was the roar of blood in his ears.
It was like the room was clearing of fog. Slowly they released their hold on each other and took wary steps back.
What the hell did he think he was playing at? Had he lost his mind?
Francesca put trembling hands to her mouth, covering it as if in prayer, her eyes wide and dazed.
He felt pretty dazed himself.
He breathed out deeply.
He’d been minutes away from making love to her. There were no excuses he could make.
For the first time in his life he’d let his desire guide him and his loathing for himself tasted like salt on his tongue.
He was a thirty-six-year-old man. He knew better than this. He demanded better than to behave like this.
He should never have followed her into the suite, not when his awareness of her and the desire in his loins had been simmering since the first moment he’d set eyes on her.
‘I need to go.’
She jerked her head and took another step back. He took it as agreement.
His heart hammering, he backed away to the door and left.
* * *
Francesca put the pillow over her head to drown out the sound of the knocking on the door. She knew who it was and she did not want to see him. She didn’t want to see him ever again. She couldn’t. It was just too mortifying.
She’d rather dance naked through the streets of Caballeros with the lecherous Governor ogling her than see Felipe again.
Her cheeks scalded to remember how she’d come undone with one touch.
One touch.
Why didn’t she know that could happen? How could she have known when she hadn’t even kissed a man before?
His face. He’d been horrified.
No wonder he’d run from her suite.
And to think she’d gone into the restaurant hating him.
She’d just wanted to kiss him.
It was his smile that had done it, one unguarded curve of those gorgeous lips that had made her own lips tingle and her pulses quicken.
She’d spent almost their entire meal fantasising about the feel of his lips on hers.
Curiosity had certainly killed the cat.
She couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol, although she wished she could. It had loosened her inhibitions considerably but she’d been the one to drive the kiss, not the Tequila Sunrises.
She’d played with fire and been burnt for her trouble. She certainly wouldn’t open the door to the man who’d lit it.
The phone beside her bed rang.
She wanted to scream. Just leave me alone!
She snatched the receiver up. ‘What?’
‘You have one minute to open your door or I break it down.’
The dial tone played out before she could summon the words to answer back.
Throwing on her robe, she hurried to open the door a crack before Felipe could follow up on his threat.
He was already there.
He didn’t wait for an invite, simply pushed the door open and strode in, glass of fizzing water in hand.
‘Drink that,’ he said, handing it to her. ‘It’ll help your hangover.’
‘I don’t have a hangover.’ She was quite sure the sickness in her belly was nothing to do with alcohol. Her banging head might be, though.
‘Just drink it.’
How could he look so fresh? He’d showered, his charcoal suit crisply pressed, his hair still damp.
Sulkily, she did as she was told and gulped the liquid down. It tasted much less disgusting than she expected.
He took a deep breath. ‘May I sit down?’
No. Go away and let me sleep away my mortification. ‘If you want.’
He sat on the armchair in the corner and indicated for her to sit on the sofa.
Perching herself gingerly, aware of the humiliation ravaging her, she tried to put on a brave face. Tried to show she didn’t care what he thought of her.
But she did care. She really did.
‘I must apologise for my behaviour last night,’ he said heavily. ‘I should never have taken advantage of you as I did.’
The last thing she’d expected was an apology.
His choice of words made her study him properly.
Her heart loosened to see he wasn’t angry with her. Felipe’s anger was directed at himself.
His self-recrimination also loosened her tongue. ‘You didn’t take advantage of me. If anything I took advantage of you. I started it.’
