The Spaniard's Pleasure: The Spaniard's Pregnancy Proposal / At the Spaniard's Convenience / Taken: the Spaniard's Virgin

Their eyes locked and suddenly the air was crackling with tension and alive with possibilities. The sort of possibilities that made her pulse rate quicken.

‘And you are a woman.’

The tactile quality in his voice sent a shocking jolt of desire through her body. Fleur tensed and stepped backwards, her shoulder blades pressing into the door-frame.

‘And Tamara might prefer a woman to shop with.’

Fleur, her expression schooled into blandness, stuck out her chin, determined not to let him see how his presence got to her even though she suspected it was way too late for such caution. Antonio Rochas had probably been born knowing the effect he had on women.

‘I can’t imagine that lingerie counters make you blush.’ She licked her dry lips.

The action caught his attention. ‘Do I make you nervous?’

She tried to sound amused as she retorted, ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

‘You want to know what I would like?’ The abrupt question had a driven quality.

Her throat thick with emotions she was reluctant to put a name to, Fleur shook her head. Antonio took a strand of pale hair that had fallen across her face, his expression distracted as he smoothed it back from her brow. Holding her wide eyes, he set one hand on the wall above her head. Her heart thudded as he leaned forward, his big body curving over her.

‘But I think you know…and you would like it too, I think?’ The insolent half-smile that lifted one corner of his fascinating mouth did not touch his eyes. They were bluer than the brightest summer sky. Blue, hot and hungry; it made her dizzy just to look at them.

Somehow Fleur forced the words past the limp in her aching throat. ‘I think you should go.’

‘I think so too,’ he agreed, showing no sign of doing so.

‘Well?’ She raised a brow, but instead of achieving irony her smile managed to come across as a victim of blind, relentless lust, which was nothing but the truth.

‘Have you any idea what it does to me to see you tremble just thinking about me touching you?’ He appeared to expect no reply, which was just as well because Fleur’s vocal cords were paralysed.

‘Shall I tell you?’ Antonio asked, touching a finger to the narrow band of midriff exposed where her tee shirt had ridden up.

Fleur gasped at the electric shock that sizzled all the way to her toes. She went to slap his hand away, but somehow she ended up holding on to his wrist. She expelled her breath on a shuddering sigh as his flexed fingers spread across her warm flesh.

Under his fingertips he could feel the contraction of the fine muscles just under the surface of her smooth belly. He watched as her delicate eyelids closed and pinkness washed over her skin until it glowed rosily.

He was stunned by how responsive she was to his lightest touch. His eyes darkened as his level of arousal hiked up several more painful notches.

Breathing in short, choppy bursts, she forced her eyes open. ‘You can’t do this…we can’t do this…’

‘Why not?’ he asked, cupping the back of her head in his hand.

‘Because your daughter might see us.’

The prospect did not appear to dampen his enthusiasm—at least it felt that way to Fleur as he placed a hand in the small of her back and pulled her hard up against him. ‘That,’ he said, fixing her with a hungry, burning stare, ‘is what you do to me.’

Fleur managed to access the part of her brain that hadn’t turned to mush and mumbled weakly, ‘Tamara…’

‘It would be more educational for her to catch us kissing than a sex-education lecture.’

‘This isn’t kissing!’

No sex-education lecture in the galaxy could have prepared me for an encounter with this man, Fleur thought, moaning softly as the hard imprint of his erection ground suggestively into her belly.

‘It might also traumatise her for life. No child likes to think their parent is sexually active.’

‘Sexually active? Not recently,’ he muttered under his breath as he lowered his head to kiss her.

About an inch from making contact she turned her head. ‘Please, Antonio…’ she begged.

Torn between frustration and concern because she was visibly shaking, Antonio stepped back. The hand he raised to drag the hair back from his brow was not quite steady.

Swallowing, Fleur lifted her eyes to his. The skin was pulled tight across the planes of his hard-boned face, suggesting a tension that was echoed in the unnatural rigidity of his lean body.

‘Right, this isn’t the time.’

‘There is never going to be a right time. Or place.’

‘Any place would suit me.’

The earthy admission made her shaky knees almost fold.

‘Are you going to come with us?’ he asked.

Fleur shook her head. ‘I think you and Tamara need some time alone.’

‘We have had some time alone.’ He sketched a mirthless smile.

‘And on any of those occasions, you stupid man, did you tell her that you care?’

‘What did you say?’

‘I said you’re a stupid man, which you are.’ Fleur spelt it out because for a man with a mind like a steel trap he could be extremely dense. ‘Tamara thinks you don’t care and you so obviously do. Would it kill you to tell her?’ she asked him.

‘Obviously I care.’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake! Don’t get on your high horse with me. The point that you seem to be missing—’

His lips quivered. ‘Because I am a stupid man?’

‘It isn’t obvious to her, Antonio.’ She caught his arm, her eyes widening fractionally as she felt the extreme tension in his muscles. In an urgent undertone, she added, ‘She won’t know you want her unless you tell her. Go on…’ she urged.

Had he stood there looking so shocked on any other occasion she might have laughed. ‘I thought you were supposed to be good at everything?’ she taunted gently.

‘So did I.’ His expressive mouth twisted into a self-derisory smile and Fleur’s fingers tightened on his arm. ‘Meeting you has taught me otherwise.’

Fleur saw he was staring at her fingers curled around his sleeve and self-consciously let her hand fall clear.

‘I have missed so much.’