Taken the Spaniard's Virgin

“I agree.”

“So, you will stay here?”

“Yes.” The speed with which their relationship had moved was terrifying and in fact, moving in with him for the two weeks would be more a comfort than an additional burden.

She needed the closeness for reassurance.

“Good.” That was all he said, but his whole body radiated satisfaction.

Her lips curved in a smile, though it took almost too much effort. Making love was exhausting. He finished washing her, soothing her with his touch until she was liquid and boneless in his arms…so sleepy she snuggled her head against his shoulder, her eyes sliding closed.

She made no demur when he helped her from the bath and then proceeded to dry her with careful hands and a super soft, plushy towel right off the heated rack. He carried her into the bedroom and tucked them both between the Egyptian cotton sheets. The last thing she remembered as she slid into sleep was the press of his lips against her temple.

Amber woke encased in heat.

Instead of a soft pillow under her head, it rested against short, silky hair covering a muscular chest. A reassuring beat sounded against her ear, its soothing cadence filling her with a sense of well-being. There was no moment of disorientation, no wondering where she was and how she’d gotten there or who was in the bed with her.

She knew exactly where she was and whose strong arm was curved across her back. Which was odd really and she couldn’t help taking a second to ponder the strangeness of her reaction if not her circumstances. She should have been at least a little disoriented in waking up against another person. The only other times she’d ever shared a bed had been when she was sick as a child and her mom had taken Amber into her bed in case she woke feeling worse in the night.

She’d never even fallen asleep against a man’s chest while traveling, or so much as dozed on a warm san

dy beach close enough to touch another body. And she was used to having the entire expanse of at least a double-size bed to herself, but lying there curled against Miguel’s big body felt absolutely right. Not weird. Maybe new, but not something she had to get used to. Just…right.

More right than anything she’d ever known actually. And that was disorienting. Very. How could it be so perfect so quickly? How could she feel like she was meant to be exactly where she was even though it wasn’t anything she’d anticipated…could ever have anticipated?

And even more than the rightness of it was the goodness. It felt incredible to be exactly where she was, her body twinging in places it had never twinged before, her senses inundated with the presence of the man whom she was snuggled so closely against. This intimacy was as delicious as the lovemaking…well almost.

She had never realized how alone she’d been, even with her mom and her so close. This was different. This was a lover, someone who belonged to her, was with her and only her. Amazing.

She carefully shifted her hand against satin smooth skin, gently exploring the contours of his torso. While it felt completely perfect, it also awed her to be here, held by him even as his body slept…to have the freedom to touch.

As a model, others had the freedom to touch her. Not in any lewd way, but dressers, designers…even patrons at a trunk show would feel the texture of the fabrics she wore…her body the mannequin beneath the clothes. However, she rarely touched others. And was only now realizing that salient fact.

Beneath the friendly, confident facade she’d developed for her career, she was really rather reserved.

She hugged her mom…even hugged some of her friends in greeting, but not often and this was definitely different. This was having the right to explore the secrets of Miguel’s body, and even more—to touch him with possessive affection. What she was doing right now didn’t feel sexual…she was curious about how he felt, wanted to learn him, but she was not feeling overwhelming passion at the moment. Just happiness.

A kind of burbling joy welling from deep inside that gave a nod to the loneliness she’d never acknowledged at the very same time it smoothed that loneliness away as if it had never been. Suddenly it was all so clear…she didn’t have to choose between a relationship and her career. She could have both, had been silly to think for so many years that she couldn’t.

Miguel would understand the demands of her job just as she understood the demands of his. They would both compromise and make this incredible gift given to them work.

She almost laughed aloud at herself, but kept it back. Okay, maybe she was getting ahead of the game plan. She’d always heard that men were slower to make these kinds of life choices and she was determined to give Miguel all the time he needed. She’d thought she was the one who would have to be convinced of the viability of a relationship and now that she realized it was not so, she felt remarkably, wonderfully free.

Free to love. Free to bask in happiness. Free to touch. How amazing was that? As her fingers traced the plains of his chest, distinguishing between the parts that had hair and those that were smooth to the touch, the heartbeat under her ear began to beat faster.

A delighted giggle spilled forth from her mouth and she deliberately explored areas she’d already learned were sensitive, like the brown disks of his nipples.

The hand on her back started moving, caressing her with slow, lazy circles that elongated to ovals until on the downward dip, that big hand brushed over the curve of her bottom.

Her breath hitched, the feelings of security and contentment morphing into something else entirely, and yet also still there under the sexual desire wakening inside her.

“This is nice,” he said in a voice husky from sleep.

She smiled against him. “Yes, it is. Wonderfully nice.”

He made a beautifully masculine sound of enjoyment and his hand dipped between her legs, touching her intimately.

Her body gave an involuntary jerk and she gasped.