A Spanish Marriage

He knew nothing! Patronising hog!

‘I’ve known for a good five days, so don’t pretend you can read my mind!’ she flung at him in temper, thoroughly hating him for that grin of utter relief at being let off the hook that his pride and his honour would have had him impaled on for the rest of his life.

And hating herself even more for immediately bursting into a torrent of tears and giving way to out-of-control sobs when his strong arms enfolded her, one gentle hand pressing her head against the accommodating wide span of his shoulder.

‘Hush, sweetheart. I can’t bear to see you cry! It really cuts me up,’ Javier uttered on a driven undertone and Zoe felt she had been somehow swept back over a decade in time. Wrenching her head away from what she didn’t want to admit to being the comfort of his solid shoulder, she flailed her small fists against the immovable barrier of his chest.

‘I’m not an eight-year-old kid any more!’ she bit out in raw-edged fury. ‘So don’t treat me like one! Next thing you’ll be saying, “There there” and promising to buy me an ice cream if I wipe my eyes and blow my nose!’ Breasts heaving with emotion, tear-drenched eyes flashing fire in his direction, Zoe ranted at him. She knew she was being unfair. Few men would enjoy the spectacle of a woman turning on the waterworks, and he’d only been trying to make her stop blubbering. But that knowledge didn’t prevent her from renewing her assault on that broad chest and doing her damnedest to put space between them.

But Javier simply hauled her closer to the lean, hard strength of his body, amusement curling that wide, sensual mouth, his voice dark and drawly. ‘Should I also go the whole hog and offer to kiss you better?’

Zoe’s heart gave a violent lurch. Her wide eyes met the suddenly smouldering intensity of his and her mouth ran dry. A tiny quiver assailed her as she felt her skin tighten. His mouth promised passion. Her own lips softened, parting on a slight tremor as the hands that had been holding her captive became instruments of exquisite torture as they slid up to splay against the naked skin of her shoulder blades. Her head began to spin and she thought she heard herself moan as the aggression melted out of her fisted hands and her palms flattened over the soft fabric of his T-shirt and registered the rapid beat of his heart.

And then that perfect, intoxicatingly sexy male mouth descended to take hers and fireworks exploded inside the entirety of Zoe’s being. Her slim arms lifted to twine around his neck and the towel slipped to the floor and this time the driven groan came from him as his hands travelled down the line of her spine, settled with male possessiveness on her hips and curved her against his hard body.

Zoe’s fingers tangled in the luxuriance of his thick black hair as the mastery of his mouth sent her spinning to heaven, too dizzy and disorientated to take in what he was saying when his mouth parted from hers and he asked on a thickened undertone, ‘Is this what you want? You have to be sure. Tell me now—I’m not made of stone.’

Gazing up into the breathtaking feverish glitter of his darkened eyes, Zoe missed his mouth like crazy. She wanted it back. Now. Pressing even closer, if that were possible, she claimed what she craved, drowning in euphoria as she felt the deep shudder rake its way through his honed, lean frame as his lips ravished hers with blistering passion.

He did want her, was the exultant thought that made its way through her fogged brain. His body betrayed how much. He wasn’t indifferent! With an instinct as old as Eve her hips rotated against his in out-of-control need.

‘Zoe—’ Sheer will-power brought his mouth from the honeyed nectar of hers, aware that his voice sounded like the rasp of an iron file. The beautiful little minx was driving him wild, everything getting way out of hand—

The hard tips of her breasts scorched through his T-shirt. His sanity was on the verge of leaving him. He brought his hands up to cup her face, his fingers sliding under the thick silver-gold hair that fell softly around her flushed face, a perfect frame for those liquid topaz eyes fringed with ridiculously long lashes, delicate cheekbones and lush, ripe lips.

He pushed her name out again, then dragged back some of his slipping sanity. ‘Wait—’

‘Can’t!’ She trembled with the tension he was racking up, turned her head to one side and kissed the palm of his hand. The need he had aroused in her when she’d thought that making love to her again was the last thing he wanted was unbearable.

But he dropped a light kiss on her parted lips, another on the point of her neat chin, then ran unsteady hands down over her almost painfully sensitised breasts, slickly over the slight curve of her tummy before coming to rest on the soft, silky curls between her thighs, making all the breath rush out of her lungs.

‘I’ll be two seconds,’ he promised on a raw intake of air. ‘I won’t put you through another pregnancy scare,’ he imparted. Javier took a step away, against every instinct. Had to move before he lost the ability to think straight. ‘Have to protect you this time,’ he told her gently as she reached out to slip her hands beneath the hem of his T-shirt, the words that were about to tumble from her tongue, telling him that she wanted his baby with all her heart and soul dying in her throat as a raised female voice cut through the heavily charged atmosphere.

Shocked into stillness, it was Javier who broke the sudden silence with a vehement oath in a language Zoe took to be Spanish, tacking on, ‘My mother!’

The tap of high heels on the polished hardwood floorboards, the, ‘Javier! Teresa! Is no one here?’ had Zoe realising she was naked and scrambling to cover herself with the bath t

owel, just as the door swung open to frame Isabella Maria wearing an aqua silk two-piece and a delighted grin.

‘So there you are! The place was like the Marie Celeste. We’ve come to surprise you!’

The hard flush that had stained Javier’s jutting cheekbones receding, he said drily, ‘Perfect timing, as usual, Mama.’ He draped an arm round Zoe’s shoulders and Isabella Maria, not recognising sarcasm when she heard it, broadened her smile.

‘Good! Your father said we wouldn’t be welcome. But I told him not to be so foolish. You’re well past the honeymoon stage and likely to shoot intruders on sight! You do realise, don’t you, that I haven’t seen either of you for a whole year?’

‘Is that so?’ Javier’s tone was dryer than the desert. ‘If you’ll excuse us, we were about to take a shower, weren’t we, darling?’

At the increased pressure on her shoulder, Zoe swallowed a giggle, managed a nod, and managed not to explode with manic laughter when Javier instructed his parent, ‘Make breakfast, Mama. Zoe and I enjoy fending for ourselves, but as you’re here you might as well do it.’

A series of decisive strides took him to Isabella Maria’s side. A hand clamped beneath her elbow, he escorted her back through the door, firmly closing it in her surprised wake.

His hands spread, he turned to Zoe, his mouth wry as he murmured drolly, ‘What can I say?’

‘That you ought to fix padlocks on the doors?’ Zoe’s smile was wobbly because rivers of frustration were rushing through her veins, making her bones ache.

But a slashing grin of amusement curved Javier’s sensational mouth. ‘There’s a thought!’ Veiled, dark-as-charcoal eyes lingered on her lush, kiss-swollen mouth. He gave himself a savage mental shake and headed to the bathroom door. ‘I’ll take another cold shower while you dress.’

‘Javier—wait—’ Towel trailing, Zoe trotted after him, determined not to linger one moment longer in this state of limbo. How did he see their future long-term? Would they still be together beyond the further year he had originally stipulated? Or not? Was he just using her for sex because he was a normal, virile male and she was more than willing and definitely available?