The Forbidden Touch of Sanguardo

‘Rafael—I...I...’ She could say no more.

He did not want her to. ‘Hush...’ He spoke softly, intimately, to her alone. ‘This is my promise to you, Celeste.’ His eyes spoke with his voice, his gaze rich and full. ‘My promise is that if you give yourself to me I will give myself to you in equal measure. With me all shall be well—I promise you. Whatever scarred you long ago will be undone.’ He gave a wry smile, letting his hand fall from her while his eyes still held hers like precious pearls. ‘We will take it slowly—as slowly as you need. I promise you.’

He drew back, straightening, holding her gaze for one last moment. Then he was opening the passenger door, stepping out, turning back to take her hand in his and help her out. He made no attempt to kiss her again. He would keep his word—take this as slowly as she needed.

But for all that he knew, with an absolute conviction that coursed through him like a strong, dark current as his eyes rested on her with a last, caressing glance, that ‘slowly’ did not mean that in the end they would not reach the destination that he sought...

Celeste in his arms...his embrace...his bed...

CHAPTER SIX

IN A DAZE, Celeste walked upstairs to her flat. Her mind was reeling, her senses were reeling and the blood in her veins seemed to be alive with a spirit she could not quench or quell.

He had kissed her! Rafael had kissed her! And the touch of his lips was seared upon her own as if he were kissing her still—as if that coaxing, seductive velvet were still working its magic upon her.

Unconsciously she put her fingertips to her lips as she stepped inside her flat, leaning back breathless against the door, her vision blinking in the bright light, seeing not this light but the dim lamplight of the car’s interior, the sculpted outline of Rafael’s strong face, the dark light of his eyes as they held hers.

Her breath caught. How long—how emptily, achingly long?—had it been since she had been kissed? Years upon empty years!

And never, never like that!

No one could create that touch—that softness, that magic!

Only Rafael. Only him—

She pressed a hand to her breast. Beneath her ribs her heart was beating fast, not just from the stairs but from the hectic pulse in her throat.

I should have stopped him! I should have said no. I can’t do this—I must not!

But even as she adjured herself she knew it would have been impossible to have stopped him! Impossible to have resisted the velvet caress of his fingertips, his mouth. Impossible to resist the magic he had woven on her lips.

As if he’d broken a spell...

Freeing her from a prison that had held her for too long.

She gave a little cry. Half anguish, half disbelief. Lurching forward, she hurried into the kitchen, busied herself deliberately with filling the kettle, setting it to boil. Tea—that was what she needed! Tea—strong and hot and comforting and normal—that would scald away the last remnants of his touch upon her lips. Because scald it away she must—of course she must.

She closed her eyes. A great anguish filled her.

What he wanted she could not give.

And what she wanted she could not take.

Barred for ever...

Bleakly she made her tea, disposing of the teabag, rinsing the sink out with the remainder of the boiling water, scouring it as if she were scouring her skin, killing his touch.

It didn’t matter—it didn’t matter that he’d kissed her. How could it? It changed nothing...nothing at all. What she felt, what she wanted...longed for...did not matter.

With unseeing eyes she started to sip the scalding hot tea, sip after sip. Obliterating the taste of his mouth from hers. While, inside her, her heart ached with an unbearable anguish for what must not be—could not be.