Christmas Kisses: The Spanish Billionaire's Christmas Bride / Christmas Bride-To-Be / Christmas Wishes, Mistletoe Kisses

‘Oh?’

‘You look—you look so content … And I noticed that you’re wearing a wedding ring?’

Before she’d spoken Cristiano had appeared as though he was going to smile at her, but the instant Dominique mentioned the wedding ring his face changed completely. The deeply contoured slashes that denoted his cheekbones were sucked in sharply, and the broad banks of his wide shoulders seemed to visibly tense in what appeared to Dominique to be a potentially explosive cocktail of pain and anger.

‘That was another life. One that I do not particularly want to discuss in casual conversation!’

Stung, Dominique retaliated. ‘Just because I mentioned the fact you were wearing a wedding ring doesn’t mean that I treat the idea of your marriage remotely “casually”, Cristiano! Anything but! Something told me when we first met that you had been badly hurt by someone. Until last night I thought that we—that we were becoming close … that you might trust me enough to confide in me. Don’t you think it’s absolutely normal that I might be interested in your past? It’s not my intention to hurt you by bringing it up!’

‘You do not have to intend hurt … Talking about that particular phase in my life inevitably does inflict pain, Dominique!’

Sensing the debilitating tightening in the area of his chest that always responded thus at the memory of his wife and baby, Cristiano fought to get past the waves of grief so that what he said would make some sense. Strangely, he suddenly realised that he did not feel as vehemently opposed to discussing what had happened as he usually did. Was that because he did indeed feel that he could trust Dominique with knowledge of the most tragic event of his life and knew she would not abuse that trust?

He had come in search of her because he could barely stand another second of being without her company, and he’d wanted the opportunity to try in some way to heal the rift that had come between them since this morning. Cristiano did not want to give the appearance of rejecting her again by refusing to be drawn about his past.

‘Martina and I were married for three years. Just over two years ago she died, giving birth to our baby. Our child did not survive. The surgeons could not save either of them.’ He had automatically crossed his arms over his chest, as if subconsciously protecting his heart, and he sensed Dominique’s little sigh of shock feather softly over him. Cristiano grimaced. ‘She knew she was taking a huge risk in becoming pregnant, given her history—but she kept the knowledge from me until it was too late.’

‘Cristiano—I’m so sorry!’

Her lovely blue eyes were glassy with tears, and instead of dwelling on his own tragedy, Cristiano found himself wondering how anyone could thoughtlessly cause this incredible woman pain when she clearly had a heart wider than any ocean on the map?

Suddenly the need to have her in his arms became overwhelming, and he closed the gap between them in one stride, drawing her urgently against his chest. Before Dominique could utter a word Cristiano desperately sought her mouth, claiming a hard, hot kiss that he honestly wished could go on for ever. But at some point he did come up for air, and when he glanced down into Dominique’s flushed, beautiful face, he registered the piercing need her features revealed with a bone-deep ache unlike any he had ever known before …

‘Tonight,’ he murmured, unable to deny her need any longer. ‘Will you allow me to come to you?’

Equally unable to deny him, despite the heartbreak of the night before, Dominique nodded her acceptance …

Her heart seemed to be breaking with sadness. She was dreaming of snow and Christmas trees, and her mother not loving her, and a tear slid from beneath her lashes and dampened her cheek. Something gentle brushed it away and a soft sigh escaped her.

The wonderful sensation of warm hands cupping her face made Dominique suddenly turn rigid as she realised this was no dream, and her eyelids flew open in shock. In the moonlight that filtered into the room through the partially opened drapes, Cristiano’s dark eyes gleamed back at her, and his sensual lips curved into a smile that was as seductive as it was concerned.

‘You were crying.’ His rich velvet voice was pitched deliberately low in deference to the baby sleeping peacefully in her crib.

‘A bad dream …’ Husky with sleep, Dominique’s reply was barely above a whisper, but to her own hypersensitive hearing her heart beat loud enough to awaken the whole household.

‘Will you let me help chase the bad dream away?’

‘I thought you’d changed your mind again … that you weren’t going to come …’

‘I am sorry about that, mi ángel.’ His rueful sigh feathered over her. ‘Consuela knocked on my door and wanted to talk. She is overwhelmed by the knowledge that her grandchild is here with her at last, and was feeling somewhat emotional. Naturally she wanted to discuss Ramón too. I did not want to hurry her away.’

‘Of course not!’

‘But at the same time I could barely contain my frustration at not being with you! I want you so much!’

Thrilled to hear him say it, Dominique was about to tell Cristiano she felt the same—but found her declaration shockingly silenced by the hungry press of his warm, tantalising lips against hers. At the first inflammable touch of that erotic satin mouth heat poured through her body like liquid fire. Actual tremors rippled through her.

It was as she feverishly pushed the satin quilt aside to let Cristiano join her that Dominique realised he was naked to the waist and that the only clothing he wore was a pair of silk mulberry-coloured boxer shorts. As far as male bodies went, his definitely had the ‘wow’ factor—in spades. She saw for herself the strongly delineated collarbone and the wide, powerful shoulders above a hard-muscled bronzed torso and stomach where not a single ounce of spare flesh found a home. No wonder his clothes looked so good on him!

Helplessly transfixed, Dominique noticed too the erotic coating of silky dark hair dusting his nipples, and as her feverish gaze dared lower, past taut, lean hips, she saw the way another fine smattering led a provocative trail into the waistband of his boxers.

But there was little time for her appreciative perusal of his mouthwatering masculinity when, with a harsh groan of need, Cristiano suddenly took command of her mouth like a man presented with his first proper meal after being released from solitary confinement. He devoured her as if he would never get enough, and never be satisfied … And with his ravishing velvet tongue he introduced Dominique to a wild eroticism she hadn’t even known existed until then. There wasn’t a corner or crevice of her mouth that he didn’t plunder with destroying command and brand with his addictive masculine flavours.

Lying beneath Cristiano’s hard, lean and muscular body, she felt like butter left out in the sun, inexorably melting.

All of a sudden he levered himself away from her and sat back on his haunches. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked, her mouth going dry at the thought that he had changed his mind and was going to leave.

‘I want to look at you,’ he replied, and ran his gaze hotly over the feminine curves that she knew were easily revealed by the thin cotton fabric of her nightdress.

She’d put on a little weight since having Matilde, but she knew it suited her … made her more womanly, somehow. Dominique scarcely took a breath as Cristiano hooked his thumbs under the flimsy shoestring straps and skimmed them hungrily down over her breasts. Exposure to the air hardened her aching, tingling nipples almost to the point of pain, and she was so turned on by the ravenous glance he gave her that she could swear she was suddenly on fire with a fever. Her thighs trembled and her nipples puckered tighter still, as though he had drawn ice cubes across them. Everything in her was almost unbearably sensitive to every glance, every touch, and she wanted him so much she almost cried.

‘Undo your hair for me,’ he commanded, his voice sounding as if it rolled over gravel.

With shaking fingers, Dominique slipped off the band from the end of her plait and with long practice deftly released the entwined silken skeins of honeyed brown so that they spilled across her shoulders like a river of tarnished gold. Catching her hair in his hand, Cristiano turned it over again and again to examine it, as though he could not quite believe what he was seeing. Then he raised his glance to meet hers, and in that moment Dominique truly felt as though she was the most beautiful and desired woman on earth—because his dark smouldering gaze told her that she was.

Bending his head, he touched his lips to every exposed inch of flesh on her body, then employed his fingers to seductively caress the place where Dominique longed for him the most. Just before he took her to the very cliff-edge of her resistance he peeled off his boxers and used the protection he had brought to sheath himself.

Clinging on to the hard bunched muscles at the tops of his arms as Cristiano inched inside her, Dominique realised her own muscles were almost rigid with tension at the idea of accepting his full, impressive length into her body. She feverishly wondered if her post-baby condition would give him enough of the pleasure she wished for him.

Sensing her anxiety, he went still for a moment as he regarded her. ‘Try to relax, mi ángel … I realise it has probably been a long time, and that you might be sensitive, but if you relax it will be easier … sí?’

Hearing the genuine concern in his voice, Dominique sighed and stroked her hand down over his chest, the tips of her fingers lingering for a moment on one of his hard, flat nipples.

‘I’m only afraid I won’t be able to—that because of the baby I might not be so—’

Even now, in the most intimately vulnerable situation she could find herself in, she still managed to blush. Leaning forward, Cristiano touched her face, his dark gaze brooding and possessive.

‘Everything about you is already giving me the most unbelievable satisfaction and pleasure, mi ángel … Nothing about your incredible body could possibly disappoint me. Now, let me return the compliment …’

His hard-trained muscles quivering with the effort of not letting his desire overcome him, Cristiano finally thrust inside Dominique to the hilt, and sensed her hot, silky muscles enfold him like the most exquisite tight glove. His heart all but unravelled at how good it felt being with her like this, and his doubts—for now at least—were jettisoned firmly away.

Tussling with his conscience all evening—even after his revelation about Martina to Dominique in the library—he had been plagued by many guilt-ridden thoughts. Thoughts that he would be ‘betraying’ his cousin’s memory or letting his family down in some way should he be with Dominique the way he longed to. But most of all Cristiano had worried that by succumbing to the physical attraction that flared so hotly between them Dominique might ultimately believe he was just using her. After all … what could he offer her but uncertainty? What had happened to Martina and their baby had scarred him irreversibly, and he was hardly in a position to promise Dominique anything relationship-wise.

However, in the end, wild horses could not have kept him away from her. His desire for her was simply beyond all reason.

Dominique moaned low, her incredible blue eyes glazed with uninhibited sensuality as Cristiano drove himself into her again and again with increasing need and passion—certain he could not hold out against this almost unbearable barrage of the senses for much longer without reaching the destination his whole body was primed for. Sensing the sudden rapid constriction of the soft velvet enclave that held him, Cristiano saw Dominique squeeze her eyes shut tight, and passionately he went deeper as she climaxed, causing her to clutch his hips tight and release his name in one of the sexiest-sounding sighs he had ever heard.

Unable to hold back any longer, his will-power and desire finally sent him hurtling upwards into a vortex of pleasure so profound that Cristiano sensed himself unravelling as though he might never stop. The sensation was like the most heart-pounding ride through dizzying white water rapids that he could ever imagine.

‘Madre mia!’

‘Are you all right?’

The ravishing girl in his arms was looking slightly concerned, and Cristiano smiled at her wryly, thinking whimsically that she resembled a beautiful fairy princess from tales of myth and legend with her long rippling hair and bewitching eyes. She had certainly woven a spell around him … There could not be many men alive who would resist such shimmering and innocent beauty given the chance, Cristiano speculated.

‘All right?’ he answered, his glance gently mocking. ‘Do you know how you have made me feel? Estupendo! Wonderful! Like I could climb a mountain or walk the Great Wall of China non-stop without rest! You have made me a slave to your beautiful sexy body, Dominique, an addict for the taste of your sweet honeyed lips … And most of all …’ He sensed the catch in his throat as he coiled some of her dazzling hair round his fingers. ‘You have made me hungry for more!’

I think I’m in love. Regarding the gorgeous sable-haired Spaniard who had just made love to her with all the passion and wild beauty that her wounded heart could ever have hoped for, Dominique had the stunning revelation that that same heart was even more vulnerable than she’d feared. Because it was too late now for regrets, or to rein in her emotions where Cristiano was concerned—even if he expected her to. And how was she supposed to stay here in his house, with his family, knowing that her love for him would probably never be reciprocated? That his heart belonged for ever to his wife and baby who had died so tragically?