there's this," he growled, encircling her neck with his arm and drawing her into his embrace. "There's this ... and more. So much more." He lowered his head and captured her lips, possessing her with a ferocity that left her breathless.
His mouth was hard and soft at the same time, demanding and giving with equal measure. She fought the pleasure, struggled against the passion building inside of her. But it was no use.
Kissing him was like drowning; like trying to struggle against the current of a mountain torrent but being pulled under by forces beyond her strength. The blood surged through her veins, throbbing in her ears. Pressed against him, she felt the pounding of his heart, and her own heart galloped in response.
His arm dropped to her waist and rested there. No longer encircled by his strong arm, she was free. Free to pull away, but she didn't want her freedom. Her tongue found his, meeting his thrusts with her own exploration. The intimate, heated touch of his flesh against hers was almost shocking.
She was suddenly dizzy, outside of herself, as if her mind had shut down, leaving only the desperate cravings of her body. Shuddering, her insides melted, going molten. And that most female part of her throbbed too, slicking with desire.
She'd dreamed of this. In her most secret of hearts, she'd wanted this. His hands on her body, touching her. His tongue in her mouth, tempting her.
Moving closer, she buried her fingers in the cloth of his work shirt and molded herself against his body. She could feel his penis against her abdomen, hard and needy ... wanting her.
Wanting her ... needing her. The chant circled in her head. She wanted too, needed too.
But not like this, a part of her mind fought the dizzying desire, the pent-up passion. She refused to be another of his conquests. She must listen to her head, not her glands.
She pushed against his chest and forced herself to tear her mouth from his, gasping, "Don't! I don't want this. It's not right, Esteban."
He released her and backed up a step, raising both hands in mock surrender. He pinned her with his stony-gray eyes and said, "It is right, Natalia, and you know it. You want it as much as I do."
She couldn't answer, knowing what he said was the truth. She wanted him, a feeling both strange and frightening. With a stifled sob, she dropped to her knees, occupying her trembling hands with shoving plates and half-eaten food into the picnic basket.
When the blanket was cleared, she rose and dusted off her hands. She raised her eyes and stared above his head. She couldn't look him in the face ... not now. "I'm going back down."
Bending, he retrieved the blanket and folded it and grabbed the basket. Like her, he avoided looking at her. Slinging the folded blanket over one shoulder, he hefted the basket. "I'll go with you."
***
Esteban found he couldn't tear his gaze from the lush curves of Natalia's rear-end as he followed her down the mountain. At the same time, he wished he could kick his own rear-end for coming on so strong. Why hadn't he followed Paco's advice and gone slow? Why had he forced her to kiss him?
Because he was a brute, a selfish brute.
But that wasn't all of the truth. He knew he could be selfish at times but that wasn't why he'd kissed her. He'd sensed the hurt Hector had caused her, and he wanted to wipe it from her memory. His real mistake had been his arrogance, thinking his kiss could do that.
Arrogant or selfish ... the result was the same. He'd scared her off again, and it would probably take him weeks to win her trust ... if he ever did.
And what was that gibberish that she'd spouted about him ruining their friendship by asking her out? ¡Perdición! It wasn't her friendship he craved. She was meant to be his wife, his lover and confidante, the mother of his children. Their long friendship might be the foundation of their relationship, but it wasn't enough. He wanted her beside him for the rest of their lives, bringing his
His mouth was hard and soft at the same time, demanding and giving with equal measure. She fought the pleasure, struggled against the passion building inside of her. But it was no use.
Kissing him was like drowning; like trying to struggle against the current of a mountain torrent but being pulled under by forces beyond her strength. The blood surged through her veins, throbbing in her ears. Pressed against him, she felt the pounding of his heart, and her own heart galloped in response.
His arm dropped to her waist and rested there. No longer encircled by his strong arm, she was free. Free to pull away, but she didn't want her freedom. Her tongue found his, meeting his thrusts with her own exploration. The intimate, heated touch of his flesh against hers was almost shocking.
She was suddenly dizzy, outside of herself, as if her mind had shut down, leaving only the desperate cravings of her body. Shuddering, her insides melted, going molten. And that most female part of her throbbed too, slicking with desire.
She'd dreamed of this. In her most secret of hearts, she'd wanted this. His hands on her body, touching her. His tongue in her mouth, tempting her.
Moving closer, she buried her fingers in the cloth of his work shirt and molded herself against his body. She could feel his penis against her abdomen, hard and needy ... wanting her.
Wanting her ... needing her. The chant circled in her head. She wanted too, needed too.
But not like this, a part of her mind fought the dizzying desire, the pent-up passion. She refused to be another of his conquests. She must listen to her head, not her glands.
She pushed against his chest and forced herself to tear her mouth from his, gasping, "Don't! I don't want this. It's not right, Esteban."
He released her and backed up a step, raising both hands in mock surrender. He pinned her with his stony-gray eyes and said, "It is right, Natalia, and you know it. You want it as much as I do."
She couldn't answer, knowing what he said was the truth. She wanted him, a feeling both strange and frightening. With a stifled sob, she dropped to her knees, occupying her trembling hands with shoving plates and half-eaten food into the picnic basket.
When the blanket was cleared, she rose and dusted off her hands. She raised her eyes and stared above his head. She couldn't look him in the face ... not now. "I'm going back down."
Bending, he retrieved the blanket and folded it and grabbed the basket. Like her, he avoided looking at her. Slinging the folded blanket over one shoulder, he hefted the basket. "I'll go with you."
***
Esteban found he couldn't tear his gaze from the lush curves of Natalia's rear-end as he followed her down the mountain. At the same time, he wished he could kick his own rear-end for coming on so strong. Why hadn't he followed Paco's advice and gone slow? Why had he forced her to kiss him?
Because he was a brute, a selfish brute.
But that wasn't all of the truth. He knew he could be selfish at times but that wasn't why he'd kissed her. He'd sensed the hurt Hector had caused her, and he wanted to wipe it from her memory. His real mistake had been his arrogance, thinking his kiss could do that.
Arrogant or selfish ... the result was the same. He'd scared her off again, and it would probably take him weeks to win her trust ... if he ever did.
And what was that gibberish that she'd spouted about him ruining their friendship by asking her out? ¡Perdición! It wasn't her friendship he craved. She was meant to be his wife, his lover and confidante, the mother of his children. Their long friendship might be the foundation of their relationship, but it wasn't enough. He wanted her beside him for the rest of their lives, bringing his
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