Spaniard Untamed (Blood and Thunder 3)

“It’s impossible to be as close as we’ve been without sensing the change in someone.”

“I haven’t changed,” she insisted.

“Haven’t you?”

His look of disappointment cut deep. The last thing she wanted was to pile one lie on top of another, but she couldn’t risk her plan failing. “If I asked you to go back to the mountains of Eastern Europe to search for survivors and round up that gang, what would you say?”

“I’d say we wait until we have all the intel we need to carry out the mission to maximum effect.”

But Marissa’s fate was less certain every day. This couldn’t wait. She had to bring things forward. “So you do intend to go back.”

“Blood and Thunder has never left a job half-completed. Of course we’ll root out the slavers at what we believe is their base. Is that all that’s worrying you? I will find out what you’re keeping from me, even if it takes all night.”

She had no doubt, and knew a clean cut would have been better, but that was out of the question now Diego’s palms were tracing the lines of her arms to her hands, where he linked their fingers. It was such an intimate thing to do, she felt worse than ever knowing she must deceive him. Lifting her face to his, she saw exactly what she stood to lose.

They needed a distraction. Letting go of his hands, she freed the tine on her belt, and lowered her zipper. Stepping out of her jeans, she stood in front of him in her underwear. His cool inspection made her cheeks blaze red. She was hardly dressed to seduce in the serviceable panties she’d chosen for traveling, but they would have to do.

Diego’s physical response was immediate and obvious. It excited her and built her confidence too.

“I love the shape of your body,” he murmured as he stripped off her top. He caressed her breasts, and then lightly touched the needy place at the apex of her thighs, making her gasp with pleasure. “I particularly love this part of you. It’s so soft and plump, like a cushion for me to sink into. And as for these very big panties—”

“Sensible,” she argued as he removed them.

“Sensible? I’d say so,” he agreed. “They outline your body to perfection.” Turning her around, he pushed her forward from the waist so she was resting over the arm of the sofa and he was behind her.

She gasped when his big hands stroked her buttocks and she opened her legs a little more at his prompt. He took firm hold of her bottom. “Such a responsive area,” he approved. “And so clearly defined in this lightweight fabric.”

“You’re doing it again,” she complained softly as her mind lost focus.

“Teasing you?” he

laughed as she thrust her hips toward him in search of more contact, more pressure, more pleasure.

He touched her over her panties with more intent now, and she whimpered in time to each delicious stroke. It didn’t take her long to come, and her release was so powerful, she lost her balance and Diego caught her.

“Better?” he murmured. “Or still not enough?”

He didn’t wait for her answer. He swung her into his arms. Opening the door, he carried her out of the room, crossed the hallway, and jogged up the stairs. He turned on the first landing to walk down a broad corridor. This area was discreetly lit, its walls lined with watercolors of polo players, and there were what she presumed were priceless Persian rugs underfoot. He took her into his bedroom. Some might think the room austere, but to Celina’s eyes, it was perfect. The enormous bed was dressed with crisp white sheets and the furniture was elegant polished wood. There was more quality around her than she’d seen in her lifetime. The air was cool and lightly scented with sandalwood and beeswax. There was no clutter or photographs. It was a luxurious, controlled environment, the personal territory of an extremely private man.

“Make yourself at home,” Diego suggested dryly as he lowered her down on the bed.

She had more sense than to do that.

But this she could do. The moment they were naked, they fell on each other in a tangle of limbs. Thrusting a thigh between her legs, he took her deep. They moved like wild creatures toward the longed-for goal. Diego kept one hand braced against the headboard to give him more traction. Staring down, he judged the moment with absolute accuracy. Each powerful wave led to the next, and then the next, until it seemed they would never end, and even when that faded, he kept on moving.

“I can’t. I really can’t,” she protested weakly, laughing as she clung to him.

“I say you can.”

He proved it, rolling his hips, and she was lost. The cushion he’d said he loved had been so well pounded, yet it still managed to tremble back into life. Sensing this, he buffeted her so gently, and with such keen understanding of her body’s needs, that she was soon back on the road to pleasure, gripping him as if her life depended on it.

“Open your legs wider,” he instructed. “As wide as you can. Good. Now hold them there.”

“Oh…yes…yes.” She gritted her teeth as the moment approached.

“Relax,” he insisted. “All you have to do is to keep your legs wide and leave the rest to me.”

“No!” she exclaimed as the first wave threatened. “I can’t! I really can’t! It’s too big! Please—”