The Housekeeper's Awakening

He was staring down at her. He was so close that she could almost feel the warmth of his body and smell the sandalwood of his soap. She was aware that the bed was within touching distance and she felt torn now—wanting him to reach out for her and terrified of making a fool of herself if he did.

His voice was soft. ‘Can’t what?’

She bit her lip. ‘Can’t go through with this.’

‘Lesson number one: expressing doubt is not the most flattering way to greet your prospective lover. And neither is standing there with a look of horror on your face.’

‘Luis, I’m serious.’

‘Relax,’ he said. ‘And let me look at you.’

She lifted a self-conscious hand towards her collar as his gaze roved over her. The pink T-shirt was new and the plain denim skirt made her hips look less curvy than usual, but even so... ‘I’ve got nothing particularly fancy to wear. And anyway, I certainly wasn’t anticipating this.’

‘But that’s what makes you completely lovely,’ he said unexpectedly. ‘Your lack of calculation and your absence of expectation. Your naturalness is refreshing.’

She stared at him suspiciously. ‘I thought you didn’t like what I wore?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t, particularly. You certainly don’t make the best of yourself, but your simplicity has an appeal all of its own. Even the most hardened cynic can have his head turned by a pair of shining eyes and the glow of healthy skin. And at last you are showcasing one of your most beautiful assets.’ He lifted a handful of hair and let it fall down around her shoulders. ‘Your hair is the stuff of male fantasy. And right now, you are the stuff of my fantasy.’

‘Luis,’ she said breathlessly, realising that some of the tension had left her, only to be replaced by a new and very different kind of tension, and she saw from the darkening of his eyes that he felt it, too.

He moved his hands to her waist and pulled her close and her heart began thumping dangerously as she felt the warmth of his body against hers.

‘Carly,’ he said softly. ‘Sweet, unexpected Carly.’

She didn’t say anything and part of him was glad, because for the first time Luis felt the whisper of doubt, and maybe her words might have compounded that doubt. He saw the way she looked at him—all darkened eyes and parted lips. All innocence and wonder. And as he moved closer he was overcome by a wave of lust far sweeter than he had anticipated, and hot on its heels came the dark stir of his conscience.

His mouth tightened.

He must not hurt her.

He would not hurt her.

‘Come here,’ he said. He cupped her face with both his hands and slowly brought his head down as he began to kiss her.

At first, he kept it light and teasing—a touch of the lips so fleeting that it barely made contact, though he could taste the subtle flavour of her toothpaste and, for some reason, that drove him crazy. And then he deepened the kiss, flickering his tongue inside her mouth as he began to explore her fully clothed body, and she came to life beneath his touch.

It was the most instant and mind-blowing transformation he had ever encountered. Suddenly, she was all fire. The hands which had been lying inert on his shoulders now moved to curl possessively around his neck as he pulled her even closer.

She kissed him with a passion which took him by surprise. He groaned as she tangled her fingers in his hair and melded her pelvis against his. Her lack of guile and experience was making him feel... Luis heard the roar of his own blood. He wasn’t sure how it was making him feel. Only that, for all his words about wanting a seasoned seduction, he was suddenly peeling off her T-shirt with the same kind of hunger as a hormonally charged teenager. Maybe even more. Because at seventeen everything had been out there waiting for him. Back then he had been completely entranced by women and yet to discover just how devious they could be. He soon found out that what you saw was never the truth. That thick cascades of hair were usually as false as the stories they spun you. That breasts this large usually owed more to the skill of a plastic surgeon, than to nature.

But not with Carly. He swallowed. God, no. Carly seemed...real.

He unclipped her bra and drew back as her breasts tumbled out—the fleshy mounds pale and her nipples the colour of cappuccino. She went to cover them up with her hands but he halted her.

‘What are you doing?’

‘I know they’re too big,’ she said.

‘Are you kidding?’ He smiled. ‘They are perfect. Your nipples are exactly the right size for a man’s mouth. Shall I show you how well they would fit into mine?’

It pleased him that she blushed as she let him remove her hands, leaving those caramel-coloured circles bare to his gaze. He saw her eyelids flicker as if she was fighting something inside her and then they closed as he bent to lick his tongue over one.

‘Luis,’ she moaned.

But now he said nothing; his teasing dialogue forgotten. In truth, he was in no fit state to talk. He felt himself grow harder as he sucked at her nipples and teased them with his teeth until she was making wild gulping little sounds at the back of her throat. Her denim skirt was restricting and it was with unfamiliar difficulty that he tugged i

t down over her hips and thighs, before it pooled at her feet. And when at last he put his hand between her legs her panties were very wet.