One Night with Gael (Rival Brothers 2)

She’d already made a mistake that might have had disastrous consequences tonight. Was she risking making another?

She sucked in a deep breath—which emerged in a rush when Gael leaned up and slowly licked her lower lip. Her whole body shook with the headiness of that bold claiming. The fingers she had locked in his hair tightened, encouraged him as he kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her jaw, her earlobe.

‘Let me have you, Goldie mia. Por favor,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘Let’s turn this unfortunate night into a better one. A memorable one. I can make it so good for you.’

She groaned beneath the weight of his torrid, tempting words even as she fought to rationalise what was happening. Could she do it? Could she give herself to him for just one memorable night?

The answer burned hot and urgent beneath her skin. But Goldie ignored it for a moment, pulled her dwindling faculties together for long enough to separate what was happening here from the history she knew and had fought hard to prevent repeating.

Where her mother had fallen down had been when she’d imagined herself in love with the men who had ultimately used and betrayed her. Nothing so fanciful was happening here tonight. Gael wanted her body. She wanted his. Their needs were mutual. The only emotion present here was the hunger that demanded to be answered.

‘Say yes, mi dulce.’ He kissed her cheek one more time, then drew back to spear her with flaming eyes. ‘Say yes.’

The word, eating her alive, burst free. ‘Yes.’

His harsh exhalation preceded his forceful rise from the sofa. The moment he was upright he urged her legs around his waist. Then, with one hand banded around her, the other fisted in her hair, he made his way unerringly down the hall and into the master suite.

The room, like the rest of the penthouse, was luxury personified. Tasteful and expensive antique furniture mixed with contemporary designs to produce a breathtaking setting fit for a king.

Or for an impossibly sexy, arrogant, ravenous Spaniard, whose sole attention was fixed on her with a feverish intensity that made every single one of her senses jump in mingled excitement and trepidation.

Burnished eyes trapped her in place as he set her down and started to undo the remaining buttons of his shirt. With each further expanse of golden skin revealed her mouth and fingers tingled with the need to touch, to taste.

‘Take off your robe, Goldie,’ he commanded gruffly as he shrugged off his shirt and tossed it aside.

Her fingers twitched, but for the life of her she couldn’t move. Because he was perfect. Not a spare ounce of flesh resided on the upper half of his body. She’d been so right to compare him to that Roman statue. His musculature was streamlined, a true work of art that filled her with awe. And with a great, demanding need.

Between her thighs her flesh pulsed with an unfamiliar urgency. An urgency so great she wondered how she was still standing.

‘Goldie.’ His voice was a furnace-hot warning. ‘Are you deliberately keeping me waiting?’

Her head moved in a slow shake and her hand reached for the belt. ‘No. I just...wanted to look at you.’

His breath was expelled harshly, almost as if she’d surprised him. Colour slashed high on his cheekbones and he closed the gap between them, speared his fingers into her hair. He angled her face up but didn’t kiss her, merely traced that hot gaze over her face.

‘You can look at me all you want later. Right now I want you naked and beneath me. So the robe, bellezza Goldie. Take it off.’

With quick, jerky movements she pulled the belt loose and shrugged the robe off her shoulders, leaving only her cotton panties on.

His gaze stayed on hers for a long, absorbing moment before he slowly stepped back. His exhalation was half a groan, half an expression of wonder. The fingers of one hand traced her pulse, her collarbone, then moved down to the delicate space between her breasts. Then he moved behind her, fingers still on her skin, tracing over her shoulders to the top of her spine.

A shudder rushed over her—the beginning of many that rolled in a never-ending reaction to Gael’s touch on her body. His fingers drifted down her spine, then back up again, eliciting a deep moan she was helpless to stop. In the next instant his nails were dragged lightly down her body and he groaned at her deep shudder. She swayed beneath the onslaught of fierce desire. It triggered a frenzied response and suddenly he was back in front of her, his fiery gaze moving down her body, savouring her anew.

‘Santo cielo, you’re exquisite,’ he murmured huskily.

Catching her around the waist, his movements a touch uncoordinated, he tossed her onto the bed and tugged at his belt.

Goldie brushed her hair out of her eyes, the better to see him, and then almost wished she’d averted her gaze when his body was revealed in all its manly, almost intimidating glory. She swallowed hard when she took in the fullness of his manhood.

Heavens.

A trace of that arrogant smile touched his lips as he moved towards her. ‘Your beautiful eyes stare a little too hard, guapa. Do you wish to unman me before we even begin?’

She blushed, hot and fierce, drawing a low laugh from him. She dragged her gaze up with monumental effort. ‘You’re laughing, which tells me you don’t think my unmanning you is a possibility.’

His laughter drifted away, replaced by deep, stark

hunger. He stalked to the bed, prowled to loom over her. One finger traced over her nose to her mouth, testing the suppleness of her lower lip before he demanded entry. When she took his digit into her mouth, he groaned.