to draw out her soul with her breath.
Her head was swimming and her hands went up to clutch at his arms for support, and that was her first mistake. The feel of his strength underneath her seeking fingers was both a delight and a danger. A delight because she wanted to touch further, hold tighter, and a danger for exactly the same reasons. She should break away, should move fast, but her thoughts seemed to have slowed down along with her breathing, and she couldn’t get her brain to send the right instructions to her body. Instead it seemed to want to cling, to cuddle, to press closer to the hard, vital heat of the man. And that was her second mistake. Because as soon as she pressed closer it was as if the warmth from his body had spread along her own skin. It seeped into her blood, seeming to melt down her muscles, her bones. And when she swayed on her feet his arms came round her, enfolding her, holding her tight. She was as close as she had wanted to be, clinging as she wanted to be, but in the space of a shaken heartbeat even this close was not enough. His kiss was not enough.
Her arms slipped up around his neck, holding him, fingers caressing the softness of his hair, brushing along the exposed skin at the nape of his neck, kneading the taut muscles she found there. And all the time she was drawing his head down closer, needing the pressure of his mouth to be harder, stronger—more.
He took her parted lips with a skill that had her sighing, the sigh opening her mouth even more to him, letting the slide of his tongue move along the sensitive inner tissues, tasting her, enticing her, seducing her.
If she stood on tiptoe then she could increase the pressure of his mouth on hers in response to the rising heat in her blood, the singing in her nerves. Still holding his proud dark head where she wanted it with one hand, she let the fingers of the other trail down the side of his face, feeling the faint rasp of black stubble under her fingertips as she followed the line of his forceful jaw. She caught Raul’s indrawn hiss of breath and smiled against his mouth as she kissed him again, this time taking her caressing fingers down his throat to slide in at the open neck of his shirt, stroking the smooth, warm flesh she found there, tracing tiny circles in the crisp body hair.
‘Alannah …’ Raul said again but this time her name was a growl of response against her lips.
‘Mmm?’ Alannah sighed, wriggling even closer, pressing herself against him and hearing the beat of his heart kick up a notch under the powerful ribcage.
‘Dios! You devil woman!’ he muttered against her mouth and the hands that had held her held no more. Instead they roved hungrily over her body, powerful fingers curving over and cupping the soft curves of her buttocks, pulling her in even closer to the heated force of his erection.
‘I only ever needed to take one look to want you more than any woman in the world. I still do.’
‘Me too …I want you too.’
Alannah felt the words slip past her guard with a tiny sense of shock. Even when they’d been together, she had never been brave enough or bold enough to admit to her sexual need of this man. Oh, she’d felt it often enough. And she’d shown him in wordless, physical ways, by her responses to his kisses and his caresses, just how much she desired him. But she had never actually come right out and said it in so many words.
She could only imagine that two long years of loneliness, of missing him, missing his touch, his kiss, had driven her into a state of sensual starvation, one in which she no longer had the strength or control to impose any restraint on her tongue so that Raul’s kisses had loosened even the weak grip she had on it.
Raul’s kisses and the very basic, very simple need for human comfort after the loss and misery she had endured so recently. Life was too short, too precarious to be lived at a lukewarm temperature. She’d welcomed the heat of her response to Raul as a way to melt the ice that seemed to have formed around her heart, shutting her off from the world, from all emotion.
Here at least was proof that she was still very much alive—and feeling.
‘You do?’
Her new openness had stunned Raul too. His dark head went back, deep-set eyes narrowing until all she could see was a tiny strip of burning gold gleaming between the thick black lashes that fringed them.
‘Is this the truth?’
Some of her unexpected courage deserting her under the intense scrutiny of that smouldering gaze, Alannah felt hot colour flood her cheeks, her mouth drying sharply so that she could only nod in silent acquiescence. She wanted to look anywhere but into his eyes, unable to meet them and answer the question in them when they were fixed on hers, so she lowered her gaze hastily, meaning to stare at the floor.
Instead she found that her eyes were caught by the broad expanse of Raul’s chest under the fine linen of his shirt. Where he had tugged his tie loose and unfastened a single button at the neck the tanned skin of his throat seemed impossibly dark—burnished almost—in contrast to the immaculate white and the shadow of the black, curling chest hair that showed faintly through it. The memory of how it had felt to smooth her fingertips over that hair, feeling it crisp and springy under her touch, made her swallow hard, fighting the urge to lift her hands to his chest, unbutton his shirt, to know the feeling all over again.
In an effort to resist the temptation, she forced her eyes lower, only to find the colour rising higher in her face, heating her blood, as her gaze rested on the silver buckle and the polished black leather of the belt that fastened around the narrow waist. There was no possibility that she could be unaware of the way that the fine material of his trousers stretched tautly over the heated bulge of his erection, the force of his reaction proving physically the truth of his uninhibited claim to want her.
More than any other woman in the world?
Privately, Alannah doubted that. But for now she’d take this, she told herself. For now, simply knowing that this devastating man, the only man she’d ever wanted to sleep with, still desired her was balm to her wounded soul, a promise of delight in a world that until now had seemed to have turned completely black.
‘Then what about him?’ Raul pressed, the unexpectedness of the question slicing into her heated thoughts and jolting her so that her eyes flew back up to his face, a faint frown of confusion creasing the space between her finely arched brows.
‘Him?’ she echoed in bewilderment. ‘Who? Who do you mean?’
‘Who else but your other man, of course?’
Raul’s tone was light, almost casual, but there was a new sharpness in his scrutiny, a watchfulness in the eyes that were once more fixed on her face, that told her that his words were meant far from casually. And in the same moment that the realisation of just what he meant hit home, the recognition of the fact that it truly mattered to him rocked her world with the sense of a blow to her head, making her thoughts spin dizzily.
‘My other man …’ was all she could croak, her voice deserting her as she struggled for control. ‘Who …?’
His swift dark frown reproved her and she knew that he believed she was playing with him, not understanding simply for the hell of it, deliberately being provocative in order to rile him further.
‘Let’s get one thing straight, querida,’ he muttered, low and harsh, ‘I don’t sleep with other men’s women, no matter how strong the temptation.’
‘Other men’s women!’ Alannah spluttered indignantly. ‘Let me tell you that I’m no man’s woman! I don’t belong to anyone and—’
‘Then
