His Suitable Bride: Rafael's Suitable Bride / The Spaniard's Marriage Bargain / Cordero's Forced Bride

Once there, she stared at him in open fascination as he began removing his clothes, and when he looked at her with wry amusement she blushed, but didn’t look away, and nor did he seem in the slightest bit bothered by her absorption.

Only when he was down to his boxer shorts did her nerves begin to kick in and she was overcome with sudden, horrendous shyness.

‘Don’t worry,’ Rafael murmured, oddly touched by the nervous, wary expression on her face. He walked slowly towards her, not wanting to frighten her. He was massively and unashamedly turned on, could feel his erection pushing up against the boxers, but he was going to take his time.

‘I’m not worried.’ Cristina chewed her lip, dragging her eyes away from that bulge, which was both a heady turn-on and a source of fear. ‘Okay, I am. Just a bit. I’m not … I don’t know …’

‘I’ll take care of you,’ Rafael said gently.

Cristina nodded gratefully, and continued staring at him, at his powerful, masculine beauty—the broad, brown shoulders, the narrow, tapering waist, the latent strength in his body that was visible every time he moved. There was something so graceful about him even though he was so impressively built. He was so much more experienced than she was, had had so many lovers. That was a little scary, as was the knowledge that all those lovers would have been as physically perfect as he himself was.

Cristina determined to put that out of her mind and focus instead on the extraordinary and exhilarating fact that he found her attractive.

‘I’ve never actually undressed in front of a man before,’ she confessed.

‘And it turns me on to think that I’m the first,’ Rafael told her truthfully. He would have liked to place her hand firmly on his erection, have her feel him, but he knew that he would have to wait for that, and he was happy to do that. He began undressing her and, as eventually skin touched skin, he was aware of her trembling apprehension.

Through the window, the ever-present London night-light filtered through so that they weren’t in pitch blackness.

He curved his hands to cup her breasts, which were still in the lacy bra that, in the half light, was like a tattoo on her skin. He knew that his breathing was unsteady, his body violently aroused by the lingering disrobing. Rafael had to steel himself against rushing, but it was damned hard taking his time, tracing a lazy outline of her breasts, when he wanted to rip aside that thin barrier of fabric so that he could lose himself in what they so barely contained.

His taste in women had been formed from habit: leggy, rake-thin, exquisite clothes-horses with no spare flesh. They had looked good and had turned heads, but they had not felt like this. This woman’s body proclaimed her femininity, with all its curves and abundance. He ran his hands along her sides where her waist dipped in, giving her an exquisite hour-glass shape, and felt the waistband of her matching underwear. He slowly slipped his fingers under the elasticated waistband and felt her indrawn breath.

He knew that she would be wet for him, but instead he removed his hand and began to gently unclasp her bra, murmuring soothing noises into her ear.

The sight of her naked breasts filled him with a savage adrenaline rush. He couldn’t stop a groan of pure pleasure from escaping him as he cupped them and began massaging them, rolling his thumbs over her stiffened nipples, taking it very slowly until her rapid breathing slowed to low whimpers of satisfaction.

By the time he edged her towards the bed, she was more than ready for the feel of his mouth as it covered one of those tempting circles.

Cristina had been saving herself all her life for this, and it was glorious. She gazed down at his dark head nuzzling her breast and writhed, now closing her eyes, at the sharp, delicious sensations evoked by the feel of his mouth and tongue working against the sensitive bud. Her entire body was aflame with a weird, wonderful, exquisite pleasure that made her want more. She arched up and wriggled instinctively against that exploring mouth, guiltily ashamed of this unforeseen wanton side that was suddenly and shatteringly released.

She was desperate to rip off her briefs, unable to contain her own body’s response to his caresses.

As he left her breasts to trail hot kisses along her stomach, Cristina sat up and pulled him up to her. ‘What are you doing?’ she squeaked and he grinned with boyish charm.

‘Relax. I won’t be doing anything you won’t enjoy.’

Cristina wondered how she could possibly relax when he was about to touch her there, her most intimate place, with his mouth. She was unprepared for her electrifying response as he parted those delicate folds and began caressing her with his tongue. The glory of what she was feeling stopped all her incipient inhibitions dead in their tracks, and she began moaning as he continued to lick that wildly sensitised nub until she could feel her own inevitable climax approaching.

No! Even in her innocence, she knew that love-making should be a two-way process, and she limply tried to struggle up, but her efforts were useless against the inroads he was making with his expert lathering. She dropped back against the pillows, unable to do anything but watch his head moving between her thighs, and then she was lost in wave upon wave of shameless pleasure which had her arching back, crying out at the intensity of her fulfilment.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, mortified at her lack of control over her own body.

Rafael, still recovering from the intensity of satisfaction he had derived from pleasuring her, gave her a bemused look. ‘You’re sorry?’ It dawned on him that regrets were beginning to sink in with her. She had been swept away on those notoriously unreliable wings of temptation and now she was fast recovering her senses. ‘Sorry about what?’ He levered himself up so that he was alongside her and, once there, he had to make use of all the will power at his disposal not to touch those breasts, which could drive a man wild with desire.

‘It … it shouldn’t have happened like this …’ Cristina whispered, truly devastated that a man of his experience had been doomed to end up with a partner like her, someone utterly clueless between the sheets. She could feel the onset of tears forming at the back of her throat, and she swallowed them down shakily.

‘Like … what? Do you regret what’s just happened between us?’ As confident in the bedroom as he was in the board room, Rafael now felt himself floundering in unmarked territory.

‘I don’t regret it,’ Cristina said miserably. ‘But … but I … It can’t have been very satisfying for you …’

Rafael almost laughed but he contained himself, suspecting that she might interpret such a response in the wrong light. Instead, he stroked the side of her cheek and smiled.

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ he told her gently, which induced another watery smile.

‘I’ve read articles. Men like to be satisfied through full intercourse … if they aren’t.’ Cristina tried to remember what happened if they weren’t. ‘Doesn’t that lead to dangerous blockages? Or something.?’

Rafael felt his lips twitch and he cleared his throat noisily. ‘That’s not a consequence I’ve ever heard of before,’ he said seriously. ‘And I happen to be completely satisfied.’ He leaned forward and kissed her very gently on the lips. ‘Believe me when I tell you that your response to being touched was immensely gratifying, and I feel privileged to have … given you pleasure.’

Cristina felt the sun burst through the clouds and this time her smile was full of shy warmth. He was a generous lover. Had she really expected him to be otherwise? Hadn’t she known, somewhere deep inside, that that would be the case? Hadn’t she known that this man, however wrong he might seem on paper, and however vastly different their levels of experience were, was right in every sense of the word?

Fate, she now thought, had seen fit to throw them together for a reason, and the reason was this.

She took his hand and placed it on her breast, and she loved as he drew in his breath sharply, as if in the grip of something over which he had no control. When he guided her hand to him, it was completely natural and when, after a blissful and leisurely foreplay, they made love, it was glorious. Wonderful. If she could have made time stand still, she would have done so. She would have liked to bottle the memory and kept it close to her for ever, so that she could breathe it in whenever she wanted.

‘What are you thinking?’ Rafael asked, propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at her.

‘I’m thinking that I’m normally in bed at this hour.’

‘You are in bed.’

‘In bed and asleep,’ she amended, laughing contentedly, the cat in full possession of the cream.

‘And would you say that you’re happy doing without your beauty sleep?’ he asked lazily. She had satisfied him beyond expectation. After her initial apprehension, because the unknown was always so much scarier than the reality, she had been sexily and mind-blowingly responsive, thrilling at each touch, whimpering with the enjoyment of having him lavish her fulsome body with caresses. There was not an inch of her that he hadn’t explored, and he had enjoyed every second of the exploration.

‘I think it’s made a very nice change,’ she said demurely, and then laughed when he took offence and nipped her on the neck. He placed his hand squarely between her thighs and worked her flesh so that his knuckles grazed that already sensitised area.

She would have liked to be more expressive on the subject, but a part of her was still finding it hard to believe that this magnificent man was really interested in her. There was also a part of her that was nursing a small thought which had taken root at some point during their very long and very languid love-making session. It was a thought that filled her with a warm glow and for the moment she wanted to keep it to herself because, after all, this was the first night they had spent together. What if he got bored with her? He seemed to have a short attention span when it came to women, but Cristina wasn’t going to dwell on that. Instead, she thought of how great it felt being in love, because she knew, with complete certainty, that she was in love with him.

Maybe he had had plenty of women in the past, maybe he had had an unhappy experience when he was young and foolishly married the wrong woman—but he was older now, and she liked to think that the very fact that she was so unlike the women who littered his past was promising.

‘“Nice” is such a non-word,’ Rafael chided. He replaced his hand with his thigh which he moved rhythmically between her legs.

‘That’s not your ego talking, is it?’ she teased, half her attention focused on what was going on with her body, which was stirring into arousal even though they had barely stopped touching each other for the past few hours.

‘We males are a fragile breed,’ Rafael returned silkily.

‘Perhaps I should say that it was earth shattering.’

‘Now that is a definite improvement.’ He cupped one heavy breast and then bent so that he could lick her nipple, which stiffened in immediate response. When he began suckling on it she gave a stifled groan and began moving against him, and this time they made love with hunger and urgency, their hands and mouths uniting as they explored each other’s bodies. She did to him what he did to her, tasting him and enjoying his hardness, every inch of it.

She finally fell asleep and woke to a room flooded with sunlight and no sign of Rafael.

But there was a note. The note informed her that he would be in touch, and she carried it with her for the remainder of the day. Just having it on her made her heart sing. She literally felt light-headed with emotion and when, the following day, she picked up her telephone to hear his dark, velvety voice on the other end of the line, it was all she could do not to tell him just how very happy she was.

And events over the ensuing three months moved at the speed of light.

Rafael, she discovered, was not a man who did things in halves. He wanted her, and she was more than ready to accommodate him. Playing hard to get was not in her repertoire of feminine wiles, even when Anthea, who had viewed the proceedings with jaundiced eyes, told her that Rafael didn’t appear to be the sort of man who would feel comfortable wearing an apron and putting out the garbage.