no matter how many times he possessed her, he hungered for more.
Her initial hesitation had disappeared, replaced by fierce, undisguised desire. It was something he’d always loved about Lola. She never tried to hide her desire for him, which only made him want her more, making the fire inside him burn hotter still. Holding her in his arms, in this small enclosed space, he felt a sense of urgency, knowing they could be discovered at any moment.
He stroked the edge of her black lace panties, letting his fingertips trail over her skin, from her hip around the curve of her leg to her thighs. He lightly grazed his hand over the lace, then moved the fabric aside to slowly stroke her beneath it.
She was wet. Hot and wet. He felt her tremble, heard her sharp intake of breath, and he wanted more. He wanted to hear her gasp and feel her shake as she shattered beneath his touch.
Kneeling, he peeled off the panties. Lifting her leg over his shoulder, he paused between her legs. For a moment, he inhaled the scent of her, letting her feel the warmth of his breath, teasing her. And when he felt her shiver, he pressed his mouth against her skin and tasted her.
She gasped, one of her hands pressing against the wall, the other gripping his shoulder with increasing intensity as he worked her with his tongue, one moment swirling the taut wet nub, then lapping her with the full width of his tongue.
She gave a sudden muffled cry, biting her lip to choke back the noise. But he felt the full force of her explosion by her fingernails gripping into his skin, deep enough to draw blood.
He’d given her pleasure, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to give her more. Much more.
His wife was naked, but he was still fully clothed.
Rising unsteadily to his feet, he unzipped his fly. Lifting her against the wall, he wrapped her naked legs around his hips. In a single thrust, he buried his shaft, thick and hard, deep inside her.
So sweet. So hot. So tight. Holding her backside with the width of his hands, he felt a wave of pleasure as he filled her. He groaned in ecstasy.
She gasped, her hips moving against him, her legs tightening around him as he pushed inside her, riding her against the wall. Then he made the mistake of looking at her face.
Lola’s eyes were shut, her beautiful face glowing with sensual, almost sacred joy.
Seeing that, he lost control. With a low growl, he thrust deep inside her, hard and fast. This time, she screamed with pleasure, uncaring of who might hear them. And at that, he exploded, spilling himself inside her with a low, ragged roar.
They barely had a moment to catch their breath, when, in the private waiting room beyond the velvet curtain, they heard a surprised snuffle, followed by a plaintive wail.
“Now you did it.” With her legs still wrapped around his hips, Lola gave him a heavy-lidded grin. “You woke the baby.”
“I did?” He returned her grin. “You were louder.”
“Your fault,” she said loftily.
For a moment, they just smiled at each other tenderly, their bodies still entwined. He felt that strange burst of happiness, coming from the vicinity of his heart.
His heart.
A chill went through him. Abruptly, he released her, letting her feet slide to the floor. Not looking at her, he zipped up his fly.
“I’ll go take care of Jett,” he mumbled, and left her, closing the velvet curtain abruptly behind him.
As he took their baby out of the stroller, comforting Jett after the noise had woken him from his cozy nap, Rodrigo pulled a bottle from the bag tucked in the bottom of the stroller. He tried to tell himself he hadn’t felt what he’d felt. It was good sex. That was all. Just sex.
“Everything is all right, señor?” An alarmed salesgirl looked in on the private waiting area. “We heard a noise. It sounded like a scream.”
Rodrigo gave her his coldest, most supercilious stare. “My son woke up from his nap. Surely that’s not a problem. If it is, we can shop elsewhere.”
“No, no, of course not, señor.” The salesgirl backed away. “Let us know if your lovely wife needs anything more.”
He stared after her.
His lovely wife already had everything she needed. His fortune. His name. His body. She needed no more.
She’d loved him once. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.
And neither would he. Every time he’d loved a woman, she betrayed him. Was every woman faithless? Or was there something about Rodrigo that made them so, from the moment he loved them?
He didn’t know, but it had happened not just once, not twice, but three times. He wouldn’t make it four.
These feelings he felt for Lola were sexual, nothing more. And that was all they could ever be.
THE NEXT NIGHT, as they walked into the large, elegant ballroom of a grand hotel on the Gran Vía, Lola kept sneaking glances at her husband on her arm.
Over the last twenty-four hours, they’d made love six times. Before she’d even stopped blushing from the shocking sexual encounter in the luxury clothing boutique they’d barely gotten home when Rodrigo had started kissing her again. In the great room with its view of the autumn colors of Retiro Park, Rodrigo had pulled her onto the sofa, and made love to her, this time taking off his own clothes, with gentle, seductive urgency.
Later that night, once their baby was properly asleep in his crib and they had hours to call their own, Rodrigo had made love to her again, slowly, lingeringly caressing every inch of her. As if they had the rest of their lives to enjoy each other.
Which they did.
Lola didn’t understand how any woman could ever be unfaithful to Rodrigo. And she wasn’t the only one, apparently. Even his ex that she’d spoken with on set yesterday, the famous actress Pia Ramirez, had seemed bewildered by it.
“So you’re Rodrigo’s new wife,” the older actress had said. “I’d started to think he would never marry.”
“And you’re the one who cheated on him,” Lola had replied bluntly. The other woman’s eyebrows raised, as if she were trying to decide whether to be offended; then she’d sighed.
“I loved Rodrigo, with the impetuous love of the young. He was working, chasing his empire. While he was gone—” she’d lifted her hands helplessly “—a handsome actor started paying attention to me every day. He said he was desperately in love, that he would die for me. But after he got me into bed, somehow, pictures were sent of us to Rodrigo.” She’d looked away. “I’m happy now, married with a family. But I still wonder sometimes who sent those photos. And who that man was. I never saw him again. But he destroyed everything.”
“You destroyed it,” Lola said coldly. Then her phone buzzed, and she’d been distracted by funny messages from Tess
