The Spanish Doctor's Love-Child

Idiot. He needed to remember she didn’t speak Catalan. ‘I said,’ he translated softly, ‘you’re beautiful.’ He stole another kiss. ‘You should know, I don’t make a habit of this.’

‘Neither do I.’

‘I didn’t think you did.’

She swallowed hard. ‘And there’s something else you should know. I’m a bit out of practice.’

She didn’t say so aloud, but he could read it in her eyes—she was worried that she’d disappoint him.

He smiled and rubbed the pad of his thumb along her lower lip. ‘That isn’t a problem. I have a feeling that this is going to be good—for both of us.’

CHAPTER THREE

LEANDRO took Becky’s hand and led her to the stairs. Then he stopped, looked at her, said something in rapid Catalan and scooped her up with one hand under her knees and the other round her waist. She slid her arms round his neck for balance, and he carried her up the stairs as if she were a slender five-foot waif instead of curvy and five feet seven.

It should’ve felt macho and offputting.

Instead, it sent a kick of desire through her. That this gorgeous man wanted her so much he couldn’t wait to carry her to his bed.

He pushed the door open with his foot, then set her back down on her feet next to the bed before going over to the window and closing the curtains.

Tonight she was acting out of character, but she wasn’t going to be completely reckless. ‘Do you have protection?’

He nodded. ‘I have protection. Not that I was planning this to happen tonight,’ he added. ‘My suggestion of dinner meant just that: dinner.’

‘Think of this an unexpected bonus,’ she said softly.

He walked back over to her and brushed his mouth against hers. ‘For both of us, estimada.’ He switched on the bedside light and came to stand behind her, wrapping his arms round her waist and pulling her back against him. He dipped his head and kissed the nape of her neck. ‘You smell lovely,’ he said softly. ‘Like chocolate.’

And so she should: the expensive bubble bath Tanya had given her for her birthday smelt of chocolate. She felt the warmth of his mouth against her nape again.

‘Mmm. You taste of chocolate, too,’ he murmured. ‘And I’m hungry.’

She knew exactly what he meant. Although they’d just eaten, she too was hungry.

Not for food.

For him.

And the way he was kissing her neck was the most arousing thing she’d ever experienced in her life.

He eased himself away from her for just long enough to undo the zip of her black shift dress. Slowly, so slowly, and his mouth traced a path down her spine as he uncovered her skin. When he reached the fastening of her bra, he unsnapped it, then slid the straps of her dress over her shoulders, drawing the straps of her bra down at the same time. As the fabric fell to her waist, he drew a line of kisses from the curve of her shoulder to the curve of her neck—tiny, open-mouthed kisses that made her want more.

She spun round to face him, letting her dress and her bra fall to the floor. Lord, his mouth was beautiful. If she could sculpt, she’d definitely want him as a model. She reached up on tiptoe and kissed him; as he responded, letting her explore his mouth in turn, she undid the buttons of his shirt and slid her palms across his pectoral muscles.

Perfect musculature.

She kissed her way down his throat, nipping gently and feeling a surge of satisfaction as he couldn’t suppress an ‘oh’ of pleasure.

Half-dressed, he was gorgeous. He had smooth olive skin, with a scattering of dark hair across his chest—enough to be sexy but not so much that it was offputting.

She’d just bet that, at the beach, he turned heads. Of women who wanted to be with him—and men who wanted to be him.

She pushed the material off his shoulders, letting his shirt pool next to her dress on the floor. ‘You’re beautiful,’ she said softly. ‘I take it you work out at the gym?’

‘No.’

She drew her fingertips down his arms. Again, perfect musculature without a hint of flab. ‘You feel like someone who takes care of his body, not a couch potato. So if you don’t go to the gym, you must do some kind of sport.’

He nodded. ‘I run most mornings. And I fence.’

She felt her eye widen. ‘With a sword?’

‘A foil,’ he corrected her.

She could imagine him as a Spanish pirate on a ship, swashbuckling his way through danger. Or even better, in eighteenth-century France with tight black trousers and a ruffled shirt. ‘I can see you as one of the Three Musketeers.’ She slid her fingers though his hair. ‘With long hair, you’d look amazing.’

His eyes glittered with amusement. ‘Gràcies—but I don’t think that would go down too well with my boss.’

‘What do you do?’ she asked, suddenly curious.

He shook his head. ‘I don’t want to talk about work tonight—right now it’s just you and me and I want to make love with you, Becky. I want to kiss you. Now.’

She tipped her head back slightly in invitation, and he wasn’t slow to take her up on it. His mouth was warm and strong against hers, and his tongue slid into her mouth, mirroring the action his body would make later.

I’m kissing a stranger, she thought. One of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever met, one who’s cultured and can dance and cook—but he’s still a total stranger. This is crazy. I really shouldn’t be doing—

Then she stopped thinking as his hands slid up to cup her breasts. When the pads of his thumbs rubbed against her hardened nipples, she gave a sharp intake of breath.

He drew back slightly so he could look her straight in the eye. ‘You like that?’

‘Yes.’

He gave her a lazy grin. ‘Good.’ He repeated the action, and she shivered. But it still wasn’t enough. She wanted more.

As if he could read her thoughts in her eyes, he traced a trail of light, teasing kisses down the sensitive cord at the side of her neck; the caresses turned to hot, open-mouthed kisses against her throat when she arched back and closed her eyes. He moved lower, kissing a line down her sternum, and a pulse beat hard between her legs; the beat grew even stronger when he shifted slightly and drew her nipple into his mouth. As he sucked, she gasped in pleasure, sliding her fingers back into his hair and urging him on.

Becky was past all coherent thought when Leandro dropped to his knees in front of her, removed her tights and stroked her inner thighs until her stance widened, then slid one finger under the edge of her knickers and drew it along the length of her sex. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her inner thigh. If he didn’t touch her properly now, she’d go crazy. Implode.

He pushed one finger inside her, and she couldn’t help crying out.

‘OK?’ he asked softly.

‘N-no.’

To her shock, he removed his hand. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll go into the bathroom and leave you to get dressed. Just give me a few minutes to cool down.’

What? No! That wasn’t what she wanted at all. ‘That isn’t what I meant.’ Her voice was low and breathy and just a little bit fractured.