Flora's Defiance

‘What do you think of Huis van Zaal?’ Angelo asked as he came through the door to join her.

‘It’s got wonderful warmth and character,’ Flora responded and her voice shook a little when she focused on his tall, well-built figure. With his black hair damp and spiky, and clean-shaven, he had the sleek bronzed face of a fallen angel and the level of his charisma just took her breath away.

‘I’m glad you like it here. It’s my childhood home and I’m very attached to it.’ His dazzlingly blue eyes flared, his handsome mouth tautening as her attention lingered on him. ‘Don’t look at me like that.’

Warm colour swam into Flora’s cheeks but still she couldn’t look away from him and the heat of desire simmered in the pit of her stomach like a taunt, because she had believed that she was stronger than that, stronger and fully in control. Only now was she learning her mistake. ‘Why not?’

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; ‘It ties me in knots and I’m struggling to be a civilised host and follow the accepted script,’ Angelo murmured huskily. ‘And we’re about to have dinner to celebrate your arrival.’

‘I’m not hungry right now,’ she heard herself object, as she was infinitely more eager for physical contact and the strength of her own longing shook her.

’Dios mio, you’re tempting me, enamorada mia.’ To drive home that point, Angelo crossed the room in a couple of strides and reached out to haul her unresisting body up against his lean, hard physique.

Behind her breastbone her heart started to crash like cymbals being banged together and a dark insidious excitement began to build, along with a wild sense of anticipation. Without further ado, he brought his mouth down hungrily on hers and her hands closed over his wide shoulders to keep her upright. That first kiss was nothing short of glorious. His raw masculine passion smashed down her barriers and desire sweet and painful and all pervasive engulfed her in a floodtide of reaction. But she wanted more, much more, and it was terrifying and exhilarating at one and the same time.

‘You use a lot of Spanish in your speech,’ she mumbled abstractedly when he finally released her reddened lips and allowed her to breathe again.

‘It was my first language.’

‘Not Dutch? ‘ she queried, surprised by the information.

‘My Spanish mother never learned to speak Dutch fluently, which was why we used her language within the family,’ Angelo told her before returning to pry her lips apart with the seeking thrust of his tongue and then delve deep when she opened to him, with a raw groan of appreciation rasping low in his throat.

And that was the magical moment when she discovered that even a second kiss from Angelo could make her tremble and yearn with a force of desire she had not known possible. Every kiss set her on fire for the next so that she squirmed against him, desperate with the driving need for closer contact.

‘Feel what you do to me, querida mía’ Angelo husked, a hand on her hip crushing her to him so that she could feel the urgency of his erection even through their clothes. ‘I want you so much it hurts to exercise restraint.’

‘Don’t be restrained—why should you be?’ Flora broke in helplessly, loving the way he shuddered against her with an arousal he could neither hide nor deny, for in that field at least it seemed that they were equals.

His bright eyes had the crystalline glitter of diamonds. ‘I need you,’ he growled.

And that admission was like the magic talisman that unlocked the gate to the treasure house of trust inside Flora. The word ‘need’ meant so much more than mere wanting to her. It had depth, hinted at staying power, suggested closeness on other levels, in short was everything she had dreamt of receiving from a man. She found his wide, sensual mouth again for herself and revelled in his unashamed passion for her.

Angelo bent down and swept her up into his arms to carry her out to the stairs.

‘We can’t!’ Flora gasped, torn between horror and laughter at his single-minded audacity.

‘We can do whatever we want to do, enamorada mia. There are no restrictions and there is no right or wrong way for us to be together.’ As he spoke his carnal mouth nudged against the sensitive cord of her slender neck and followed it down. She quivered helplessly as he teased and nuzzled the nerve endings below her smooth skin. He knew things about her body that she didn’t know and she rejoiced in his carnal skill and confidence.

He laid her down on the four-poster bed in her room and slipped off her shoes.

‘You know I’m not made of glass,’ Flora told him awkwardly, conscious that he was holding back. ‘I won’t crack or break.’

‘I know.’ Angelo flung her a hooded look of dark sexual promise, his jewelled eyes a bright gleam behind the thick black frosting of his lashes. ‘But going slow is sexier and I’ve waited a long time to get you back. I want to enjoy you and I want you to enjoy me, querida

mia.’

Suddenly Flora was breathless and wreathed in blushes as self-consciousness threatened to eat her alive. That day on the houseboat there had been little time to think about what they were doing; they had succumbed to a mad, impetuous bout of passion. It was a little different from lying back on a bed watching Angelo unbutton his shirt. The edges parted on the corrugated muscularity of his washboard-flat stomach and just as quickly watching became a sweet seductive pleasure. He strolled back to the bedside and gently turned her to access the zip on her dress, stringing a line of kisses across her shoulders as he eased the dress down to her waist.

I’ve waited a long time to get you back. She tasted that admission afresh, loving it, for it suggested she was special and that he would have wanted her even though she had not fallen pregnant. She was stunned by how much that idea meant to her and finally appreciated that by some insidious means Angelo had long since succeeded in getting below her skin. For the first time in a very long time the prospect of caring for a man didn’t frighten her.

Angelo lowered her to the pillows and removed the dress, pausing to run boldly appreciative eyes over her full breasts cupped in a pretty white and blue polka dot bra. Before the packing was done, she had binned her sensible pregnancy bras with the thick straps and popped out to go shopping for new lingerie. From his reaction, it appeared to have paid off handsome dividends. But within the space of a minute the bra was gone and the ample bounty of her curves was spilling into his hands instead. A startled gasp parted her lips as he stroked the soft mounds and rolled the distended pink nipples between his fingers before lowering his handsome dark head to suckle the stiff crests. She was so sensitive there that she moaned helplessly, her breathing shallow and erratic as the pulse of heat between her thighs burned hotter than ever.

He peeled off her remaining garments and touched her where she could almost not bear to be touched. He teased the exquisitely tender flesh with erotic skill and she shuddered in his embrace, so hot and wet and eager she couldn’t find words for the intensity of the hunger that possessed her. He tugged her to the side of the bed so that her legs dangled free. He spread her thighs and she felt shockingly exposed and she shivered, fingers knotting nervously into the silk spread below her hands.

‘You shouldn’t,’ she told him shakily between gritting teeth, for every natural instinct and modest fibre was urging her to push him away and reject such intimacy.