Spanish Escape: The Playboy of Puerto Banús / A Game of Vows / For the Sake of Their Son

‘Not here,’ Raúl said for her.

‘Please, Raúl…’

Her mouth sought his. She was still playing the part, too inexperienced to understand that he knew her body lied.

He wanted it back, the intimacy of last night, which meant taking care of her.

For now.

Surely for a couple of days he could take care of her. They could just enjoy each other and break her in properly. The last thing he wanted was her tense and teary, feeling exposed.

He had glimpsed her toughness, admired the lengths she would go to for her family, and he believed her now—she did not want his love

‘Later.’ Raúl pulled his head back from her mouth. ‘I’m starving.’

He helped her with her bikini, used his chest as a shield as he did up the clasp, just in case any passing fish were having a peek, or telescopes were trained on them. But rather than making him feel irritated, her coyness now made him smile.

Especially when he thought of her unleashed.

‘Come on,’ Raúl said, despite the ache in his groin. ‘Let’s head back.’

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#ue4fb7f4b-f225-5bd8-ad39-f5f44306e235)

‘WE WILL GO and shower and get dressed for dinner,’ Raúl said as they boarded and Alberto took the jet ski. ‘Do you want me to ask Rita to come down and do your hair?’

‘Rita?’

‘She is a masseuse and a beautician. If you want her to come and help just ask Alberto,’ Raúl said, heading off to the stateroom.

Estelle called him back. She could smell the food and was honestly starving. ‘Why do we have to get dressed for dinner?’ Estelle did not notice the twitch of his lips, though Alberto did. ‘It’s only us.’

‘On a yacht such as this one, when the chef…’ Raúl began. But he was torn, because etiquette often had no place on board and it seemed petty to put her right. ‘Very well.’ He turned to Alberto, who was already on to it.

‘I’ll let the chef know.’

They rinsed off under the shower on deck and then took their seats.

Raúl was rather more used to a well-made-up blonde in a revealing dress sitting opposite him, but there was something incredibly appealing about sitting for dinner half-naked and scooping up the delicacies the waiters were bringing.

‘I could get far too used to this,’ Estelle started, and then stopped herself, remembering his words at the lawyer’s. ‘I meant…’

‘I know what you meant.’

She was relieved to see he was smiling.

‘The food really is amazing,’ Raúl agreed. ‘They chef is marvellous. Chefs on yachts generally are—that is why we keep coming back for more.’

They chatted as they ate, far more naturally than they had before, and it wasn’t just for the benefit of the staff.

It was simply a blissful night.

They danced.

On the deck of his yacht they danced when the music came on.

‘I understand now why we should have changed for dinner,’ Estelle admitted. ‘Do you think I’ve offended anyone?’

‘I don’t think you could if you tried.’

The sky was darkening and Raúl looked out to the cliffs, and rather than remembering hell he buried his face in her hair. It took only the smell of the ocean in her hair for him to escape.

‘And for the record,’ Raúl said, ‘although you accuse me being a controlling bastard, I was worried about you burning. I have never seen paler skin.’

‘I think I am a bit sunburnt.’

‘I know.’

They moved down to the lounge room. Estelle was starting to relax—so much so that she didn’t spring from his arms when some dessert wine was brought through to them.

‘Let’s go to bed…’ His hand was in her bikini top, trying to free her breast.

‘Not yet,’ she breathed into his mouth. ‘I’ll never sleep.’

‘I have no intention of letting you sleep.’

‘Let’s watch a movie,’ Estelle said, unwrapping herself from him and heading over to his collection.

‘Estelle—no!’

‘Oh, sorry.’ She’d forgotten what he’d told her in the gym, about no hand-holding and movies, and she turned and attempted a smile. ‘Sure—let’s go to bed.’

‘I didn’t mean that,’ Raúl said through gritted teeth, wondering how he’d ended up with the one hooker to whom he’d have to apologise for his DVDs. ‘I just don’t think there will be anything there to your taste.’

He braced himself for the rapid demise of a pleasant night as Estelle flicked through his collection.

‘I love this one.’

‘Really?’ Raúl was very pleasantly surprised.

‘Actually…’ She skimmed through a couple more. ‘This one’s my favourite.’ She held up the cover to him and didn’t understand his smile.

‘Of course it is,’ Raúl said, pulling her down beside him, smiling into her hair. One day he would tell her how funny that was—one day when it wouldn’t offend, when she knew him better. He would laugh about it with her.

But there would not be that day, he reminded himself.

This was just for now.

He had not lain on a sofa and watched a movie—not one with a plot, anyway—since he couldn’t remember when.