The Vasquez Baby

‘I’m being honest,’ he said harshly. ‘Because I thought that was what you wanted. Maybe now you’d like to rethink that particular demand, given that the truth of what is on a man’s mind is so rarely what a woman wants to hear.’

Shaken to the core by the savagery in his voice, Faith backed towards the door. ‘I’ll—I’d better leave you alone. I’ll see you later.’

‘You certainly will and by then I will have addressed the issue of contraception so you can knock that particula

r excuse off your list.’ He gave a humourless laugh and opened the bathroom door. ‘In the meantime, we have guests for dinner. They arrive in two hours, and in order to concentrate on business I have to not be thinking about sex all the time. So this is what you’re going to do. You’re going to delve into that expensive wardrobe of yours and find something that covers you from head to toe. I want nothing showing.’

‘Raul—’

‘If necessary, sew two things together. Wear a coat! But I don’t want to see cleavage or leg or so help me, Faith, I’ll show you in public just how important sex is to me.’ And with that rejoinder he strode into the sanctuary of the enormous bathroom and slammed the door firmly shut behind him.

Dios, she was driving him wild.

In the fierce grip of dark, primitive sexual need, Raul slammed the palm of his hand against the shower controls and sent fierce jets of freezing water cascading over his tense, throbbing body.

He closed his eyes, his jaw clenched, his teeth locked as he tried to let go of the tension. Every muscle in his body was pumped up and hard, the hormones coursing round his blood like a dangerous drug.

Litres of cold water sluiced over his heated, throbbing flesh and he stood there with grim determination until he finally acknowledged that he would develop pneumonia long before the desperate need in him died.

Unaccustomed to feeling sexual frustration, Raul leaned both hands against the wall and breathed deeply, trying to use his brain to calm the overwhelming need that tortured his body.

He hadn’t intended to touch her like that; not then. What had happened to him? He, who prided himself on his control. He had more finesse than to indulge in mindless, animal sex and yet the facts spoke for themselves. The moment they’d been alone he’d had her up against the wall, his hand on her flesh…

He was behaving like a man possessed and he didn’t know what had angered him most: the fact that she’d stopped him or the fact that he’d been so crazy for her that he hadn’t given a single thought to anything except the immediate satisfaction of being inside her.

Not even the subject of contraception.

Never, with any other woman, would he have forgotten contraception. It had been his mission, the single overriding fact that had governed the way he lived his life.

But with Faith…

Resigning himself to the fact that cold water was not going to cure his current affliction, he turned off the shower with another forceful punch of his hand and reached for a towel from the pile.

It didn’t matter what she did, how she behaved, he wanted her more than any woman he’d ever met.

Acknowledging that fact with a growl of frustration, Raul wrapped the towel around his hips.

Marriage.

He’d avoided that institution all his life and yet somehow here he was, married.

And what had been a mutually satisfying relationship had been transformed into an emotional minefield that no sane man would attempt to negotiate.

He only had to think of her and the desire leapt inside him like a wild animal hunting its prey.

So now what? He mocked himself with the question. It was obvious that, like all women, she wanted him to talk. And given the look on her face when he’d given her a small taste of what was on his mind, he knew that if she really had access to his thoughts, their marriage would be over in a flash.

So perhaps now she’d learned her lesson and wouldn’t risk asking him for his thoughts again, he thought grimly.

And he probably ought to do his bit for the relationship and prove that it wasn’t all about sex. And that shouldn’t be too hard. He might not believe in love, but he did enjoy the sparky, intellectual side of their relationship. He appreciated the fact that she was intelligent enough to challenge him in conversation. He was quite prepared to discuss the stock market, polo or any other subject that interested her.

In fact he was quite prepared to be thoughtful and caring, just as long as thoughtful and caring didn’t involve an exchange of thoughts and feelings.

As long as they steered clear of that, their marriage should be fine.

CHAPTER EIGHT

FAITH stared at herself in the mirror, barely seeing her reflection.