‘I doubt anyone will even notice that I’ve gone,’ Cesar insisted as he steered her away.
So speaks the man who has no idea of the effect he has on people, Sofia reflected as she noticed how many of their fellow dancers glanced at Cesar as they left the improvised dance floor. His type of machismo could electrify a room. ‘I don’t need you to take me back,’ she insisted, avoiding his gaze. She glanced at the last place she’d seen her brothers. They would normally take her back, but they weren’t even looking her way.
‘Just tell me what you want,’ Cesar prompted.
His grip on her wrist might be gentle but the look in Cesar’s eyes was not at all safe. What did she want? What was he offering? To be alone with him? The connection between them fired as they stared at each other.
Just for one night. That’s all it would be.
They didn’t make it as far as the ranch house or even the guest quarters. The hay barn loomed. The building was in darkness when they arrived. Before she could lift the latch, Cesar had swung her round, and with his arms bracketing either side of her face he kissed her hungrily and she kissed him back.
‘No,’ he rapped as her body enthusiastically took the lead. ‘Not here. Not with you dressed like this. ‘
He was right. The mantilla she was wearing was held in place by a large, ornate hair comb, and the flamenco dress fitted her like a second skin.
Sweeping her into his arms, Cesar shouldered the door and carried her inside the shaded interior where the air was warm and fragrant, and countless dust motes danced on moonbeams. There was nothing to compare with the scent of stacked hay, unless it was the scent of Cesar, Sofia concluded as he set her down gently on a sweet-smelling bed of clean hay.
‘You should never tie your hair back,’ he said as he removed the comb and mantilla with dextrous skill. ‘There should be a law against it.’
She couldn’t believe how carefully he rearranged her severely drawn-back hair, finger-combing it until it hung in its usual tumbling disorder. Was this a man she could confide in, or was she fooling herself again? History showed her to be woefully lacking when it came to good judgement.
She needn’t have worried. With the removal of her clothes tension between them gradually relaxed and in its place came playful intimacy. Nothing that had happened in the past seemed relevant. Only this moment mattered. Until he hit a sweet spot on her neck.
‘You’re like a highly strung pony, always ready to bolt,’ Cesar observed huskily.
‘Where would I bolt to?’
‘Back to the party?’ he suggested.
‘In my underwear?’
‘What remains of it,’ he commented with amusement. ‘What am I going to do with you, Sofia Acosta?’
‘Didn’t you bring your clipboard?’
Cesar stared at her for a moment then laughed. ‘Tell me what you want,’ he insisted.
Her heart was thumping. The menu was tempting. Cesar was dressed in low-slung, snug-fitting jeans that displayed more than a few tantalising inches of hard, toned flesh. No wonder her body was responding by aching and yearning.
She didn’t move when he settled himself over her, braced on muscular arms.
Where to start?
‘Kiss me?’ she suggested.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SHE COULD NEVER have predicted what a simple request to kiss her would entail. Starting with her feet, Cesar kissed the soles, her ankles, her calves and finally her thighs, until she thought she would go mad with waiting. Locking stares, he moved past her thighs. If the attention he’d given the rest of her legs was anything to go by...
A soft cry escaped her lips when he murmured, ‘Look at me.’
Staring into his eyes was the most erotic experience of her life. It was as if Cesar could see through her to every thought and feeling she had. When he found her and cupped her, she almost lost control, but his touch was so light, too light, and she wanted more. Covering his hand with hers, she demanded more. It wasn’t a question of boldness now but more a lifesaver like the air she breathed. It only took a moment and she was lost.
‘Greedy,’ Cesar murmured as she bucked uncontrollably in the throes of a most powerful release. Unable to control her cries of pleasure, she could only respond by instinct, grateful that he used one hand to palm her buttocks and hold her in place, while he extended her pleasure with his other hand.
‘More?’ he queried with low, husky, sexy amusement when she was quiet again. Her answer was to reach for the waistband of his jeans. Dealing with the belt first, she ripped it out of its loops and tossed it aside. Next came the zipper, but Cesar took over and dealt with that with efficient speed.
‘I need you to do something for me now,’ he said.
