Consequences of a Hot Havana Night

Lifting her chin, she met his gaze. ‘And that means what?’

‘I don’t know.’

The honesty of his answer caught her off guard.

He hesitated. ‘I can’t in all honesty say that sex hasn’t got something to do with it,’ he said carefully. ‘But it’s not the only reason I want to spend time with you. We’re going to have a baby...our lives are going to be overlapping for a long time.’

She nodded. ‘I know.’

Leaning forward, he kissed her mouth lightly, brushing his lips against hers so that her pulse jumped in her throat.

‘That’s why I think we should stop pretending. I want you and you want me and there’s nothing wrong in us feeling that way—so why act like there is? I know what we have isn’t conventional, but that doesn’t mean it has to be complicated,’ he said quietly. ‘We can just keep everything nice and simple.’

She felt his gaze on his face. For a second their eyes were level as they breathed in one another’s scent. Who could resist what he was offering? Pure pleasure with no catch. And it was what she wanted too.

Reaching up, she stroked his face. ‘I’d like that.’

His eyes were dark with hunger, a hunger that reflected her own, and her body was already starting to melt as he lowered his face to hers and kissed her fiercely.

* * *

Mornings had definitely improved, César thought as he leaned back against the pillow.

Three days had passed since their frenzied encounter by the waterfall and the moment when he and Kitty had agreed to stay on at the plantation, and he was lying in bed—the bed he now shared with Kitty—watching her get dressed.

His gaze followed her fingers as they lingered over the buttons of her blouse. For some inexplicable reason he found it incredibly erotic—inexplicable because she was buttoning it up, not unbuttoning it.

But there was something about her focus, the small furrow of concentration in her forehead, that made heat shimmy over his skin. Or maybe it was the way her freshly showered hair was scattering droplets of water onto the fabric, so that he could see her bare skin through the white cotton.

Was it really only three days? Actually it was three days and two nights of pure, blissful pleasure. And yet in some ways it felt as though she had always been a part of his life.

He wasn’t complaining. Heat churned in his stomach as he rewound that morning. They’d made love twice—first with the feverish hunger that had characterised their first encounter, and then again more slowly, touching, tasting, exploring each other’s bodies.

He couldn’t remember wanting a woman so badly, or a time when sex had held such power over him.

Even with Celia.

Now that he could compare her to Kitty, he could see that she had been a youthful infatuation. He’d been a spoilt, handsome young man, used to girls chasing him, and she’d played hard to get. That had been what had really got him hooked. Had she chased him, or responded to his advances, he would not have been so obsessively determined to win her.

But it felt strange to be so fixated on one woman now, given that he’d spent most of his adult life pursuing variety, not commitment. He’d assumed that his fascination for Kitty lay in her unattainability, but now they were having sex and yet nothing had changed. He still couldn’t stop thinking about her.

He shifted beneath the sheet, then instantly regretted

it; the smooth fabric brushing against his skin was an agonizing reminder of her teasing touch.

But with an eager, responsive Kitty in his bed, it was hardly surprising he was distracted. After so long just fulfilling basic physical hunger, it was a novelty to want someone specifically and repeatedly, to indulge in her feverish touch, to look forward to seeing her.

He felt his spine tense. And, of course, looking forward to seeing someone was natural for lovers—perhaps even more so for lovers who didn’t love one another.

And he didn’t love Kitty.

But he did want to marry her.

And when it happened—and it would happen—it would work for both of them. He would offer her security and the kind of lifestyle she could only dream about for their child, and marriage to her would allow him to present his parents with the ‘happy-ever-after’ ending they wanted for him.

Or so it would appear, and that was all he needed it to do.

His hand tightened around the edge of the sheet.