The Vasquez Baby

‘Raul—’

‘I love it this way,’ he groaned and before she could wriggle away or protest that she just wasn’t ready for more, that she just couldn’t do this again, he sank into her with a decisive thrust.

Her trembling, sensitised body clamped around his in ecstatic pleasure, apparently ignoring her brain, which was telling her that she just couldn’t be doing this again.

He surged deep into her slick heat and it felt so mind-blowingly good that she cried out in shock. In this position he controlled her utterly, his hands holding her bottom, the roughness of the hair on his thighs brushing against her soft flesh. The ache inside her grew and grew with each purposeful thrust of his body and the slow ripples of pleasure spread and built to a crescendo until she was caught in a vortex of excitement so intense that she lost touch with reality.

She was on fire, her senses stormed by an attack of almost excruciating pleasure, her climax so intense that she barely registered the rhythmic thrusts that signalled his own release. For a moment there was nothing but pure, blind ecstasy, a shower of erotic sensations that left her in a state of numb shock and speechless disbelief.

Boneless and exhausted, Faith flopped forwards onto the bed in a weakened, quivering state and Raul sprawled next to her, his lean, powerful body suddenly relaxed, the smile on his face clearly reflecting his belief in his own sexual supremacy.

For a moment Faith just lay there, too shattered to speak. Part of her was afraid to move or draw attention to herself in any way in case he just hauled her against him and tried yet another position. And another part of her—a wicked, wanton part of her that she didn’t understand—wanted him to do just that because he was so incredibly gifted and she couldn’t get enough of him.

Acknowledging that fact made her turn her face into the sheets with a groan of disbelief and mortification. No matter how she liked to pride herself on her brain, she was a complete pushover when it came to this man.

He only had to touch her and she was his. Every time. Every way. Whenever he wanted.

And just what would her pathetic display of female submission have done to his already over-inflated ego?

Raul already thought he was the best and hadn’t she just gone right ahead and proved it?

She raised her

self on her elbow but before she could speak or do anything, he rolled her onto her back and flattened her to the bed again, his gaze surprisingly gentle as he studied her from beneath thick, dark lashes.

That long, slumberous look softened everything inside her and her stomach and heart performed a series of acrobatics as she stared up at him.

He cared, she knew he did and her own gaze softened in response as she waited for him to say something affectionate. After what they’d shared, how could he fail to?

He stroked her flushed cheek with gentle fingers and lowered his head to kiss her gently on the mouth.

‘Now talk to me about feeling insecure,’ he breathed and then rose from the bed in a fluid movement and strode into the bathroom with long, confident strides.

Faith stared up at the ceiling in stunned, silent disbelief.

That was why he’d made love to her over and over again?

To try and prove that she had no reason to be jealous?

Feeling numb inside, she slid off the bed and followed him on shaking legs into the bathroom.

‘Insecure?’ She croaked the word from the doorway. ‘That was why you made love to me? Not because you love me or wanted me, but just to prove a point?’

His strong, muscular body already under the shower, he gave a shrug of his shoulders. ‘After the last few hours it should be obvious that I’m not thinking of any woman other than you.’

Faith swallowed. ‘I wanted you to think about my feelings. A conversation would have done the trick.’

‘I’ve always been more of a practical kind of guy,’ he drawled, tilting his head back so that the water cascaded over his glossy dark hair and bronzed shoulders. ‘And that is a ridiculous accusation because I have been thinking of nothing but your feelings for the past few hours, cariño.’ Wiping the water from his eyes, he threw her a sexy, suggestive smile.

‘Not those sorts of feelings!’ This was the wrong place to have this talk, Faith realised numbly. He was gloriously, unashamedly naked, his aggressively masculine body proudly on display in front of her and she just couldn’t concentrate because she was agonisingly aware of his broad, powerful shoulders, the burst of dark body hair that shadowed the centre of his chest and the impressive contours of his manhood.

Averting her eyes, she concentrated her attention on the neat pile of towels. ‘Tell me something,’ she asked shakily. ‘Why is it that you think sex solves everything?’

Without answering her question, he stemmed the flow of the water and stepped out of the shower, completely unselfconscious. ‘Towel, please?’

She handed him a towel and too late realised her mistake because he closed his fingers around her wrist and hauled her hard against his damp, naked body. ‘You want to know why it is that I think sex solves everything?’ His mouth hovered above hers and his damp, heated skin brushed her quivering flesh. ‘Before, we were arguing and you were angry with me. You were spitting like an angry cat and now you no longer want to spit and you are no longer angry—so you see sex does solve problems.’ Having driven home his point, he released her and raked wet spears of hair from his eyes with strong, confident fingers while Faith stared at him helplessly.

‘I feel more like your mistress than your wife.’