Chapter Two
Joaquin Valezquez didn’t make a habit of picking up women. Which wasn’t to say it had never happened, but he was a busy man who couldn’t afford distractions, especially today.
Thirty minutes ago, word of yet another one of his father’s financial overextensions had reached him. Joaquin had left his team finishing out his presentation to a tech mogul and called his father on his way to the hotel. Just hearing Lorenzo’s voice made his skin crawl. Trying to work with him was like trying to reason with a swarm of murder hornets. Every time Joaquin swatted at one damaging sting, another threatened from a new direction. Nothing about it was pain-free.
Brooding on the fact he had to find a more permanent way to keep his father from destroying the legacy that belonged to his brother’s children, Joaquin had stepped into the elevator that opened as he arrived in front of it.
His mind had been on the calls he had to make. The plans that needed hammering out. There had been rumbles among the board of LV Global that they would be willing to vote Lorenzo out if Joaquin stepped in as CEO.
Joaquin would rather go back to scrubbing toilets for drunk tourists than take over LVG, but someone had to. He needed to call a headhunter and his sister-in-law. Others.
Despite his preoccupation, his libido had absolutely noticed the woman who seemed to be waiting for the elevator. She was well dressed in a casually tasteful way. Her smart jacket and designer trousers made the most of her figure without being blatant about it. She struck him as a sophisticated woman who was establishing herself in a professional field. Her dark brown hair was in a tidy roll at her nape. Her profile was a graceful line that belonged on the kind of pink brooch his grandmother had once worn.
When a huge smile arrived on her face, she was incandescent.
His cloud of distemper had lifted. He asked if she was going up.
She met his gaze and his breath stopped. She was genuinely beautiful. Her makeup enhanced a wide mouth and high cheekbones and long brows that delivered an impression of intelligence and directness. Confidence.
As she looked at him, her bright blue eyes took on a gleam of interest that was deeply gratifying when he was in such a foul mood.
She’d said something funny as she joined him. He’d already forgotten what it was because she seemed to offer a lot of throwaway remarks that kept him on his toes.
Siobhan. Her name was as charming as the rest of her. She seemed both open and closed, playful yet careful. Empathetic without offering pity. She was lovely to look at and sensual in the way she appreciated her first taste of wine. When he took her hand, her pulse skipped under his touch.
That had been as enticing as a flick of a ribbon to the desire prowling like a jungle cat inside him. He was wound up and longing for a chase and a capture and a wrestle.
As he opened the door of his suite for her, she carried their half-full glasses inside, offering him a whiff of vanilla and oranges from her hair as she passed.
He let the door fall closed and set the ice bucket on the coffee table, then dropped his phone beside it. He joined her at the window and took back his glass.
“Have you ever been to Alcatraz?” She nodded at the view through the shroud of the curtain and the mist on the water.
Metaphorically, he’d grown up there. “No.”
She slid a sideways look at him and seemed to grow skittish, putting a few steps between them. “I want you to know that I never do this.”
The loping animal in him slowed his pace. “When you say never…”
Her chin dipped coyly. “I’m not a virgin. I mean I don’t jump into bed with strangers.”
Her cheeks flushed pink. She was trying to be bold, but she was shy at heart. Fascinating.
“I’m not making judgments. Or assumptions.” After a beat, he magnanimously added, “We don’t have to use the bed. Lady’s choice.”
Her throaty laughter was as much a turn-on as the rest of her, filling the room with her presence. “Good to know. That helps my nerves a lot. Thanks.”
“This is you nervous?” She had invited herself in here! “God help the man who encounters you when you’re feeling confident.”
Her mouth pulled wide in a satisfied show of her teeth. “Thank you for that. I actually hate feeling less than five thousand percent confident. But you’ve got all of this going on…” She motioned at him in an encompassing way. “It’s intimidating.”
“I think there might be a compliment buried in there,” he said drily. “But to be clear, I like five thousand percent consent. If you’re here because you feel intimidated, or you think I expect sex because I bought you a glass of champagne, then we need a longer conversation before we do anything else.”
“That’s not what I think. I’m very comfortable saying no when I need to. I’ve made a habit of it for a while now.” Her mouth twisted with irony. “More often than I needed to. It’s the saying yes that makes me feel out of my depth. I’m out of practice.”
“Like saying yes to a drink?”
“Exactly. I don’t know how to be spontaneous anymore, but I’d like to be. If you’re getting mixed signals, that’s why.”
“You use truth to disarm,” he replied, studying that contradiction of squared shoulders and a high chin with the pink that sat in her cheeks and the way her lashes kept screening her thoughts. “You only reveal a sliver of the truth, though. It’s a clever sleight of hand.”
“Is that a compliment?” Her brows went up to a haughty level as she mocked him with his own words. “Because you’ve buried it.”
“I believe you’re nervous.” Even though she was disguising it well. “I’m observing how well you counteract it by calling it out. The way you’re confiding in me sounds like a sign of trust, but it also lets me know I can’t take advantage of you. Not if we’re being honest with each other.”
“You’re making it sound like I came in here to screw with your mind not your body. I assure you it’s the latter.”
“Please continue with both. As foreplay goes, I’m enjoying it.” He swirled the final mouthful of champagne in the bottom of his glass before swallowing it, meeting her gaze over the disc of the stem.
Her blue eyes glittered with amusement.
Dios, she was marvelous. He hadn’t even kissed her yet and he wanted weeks and months and years to saturate himself in her.
That thought brought him up short. He had a few hours. The night at best. The slow-motion train wreck in Madrid needed mitigating. Dealing with his father required all of his concentration and a matching level of ruthlessness.
Joaquin loathed the idea of being anything like his father. It made him sick to contemplate it so he brushed that disturbing prospect aside. He set down his glass and ambled toward Siobhan, watching her eyes widen.
“There’s no rush,” he assured her. “No signed contract to fulfill. Leave anytime. But I’m dying to kiss you.” He cupped the side of her neck and gave her a beat to decide.
Her gaze held his until her pupils expanded, then her lashes swept down. Her attention dropped to his mouth and her lips parted in tremulous invitation.
“I want that, too.” She leaned into him, mouth uptilted in offering.
He sealed his lips over hers and desire exploded within him.
Yes. Here was the portal to escape he’d been looking for.
Siobhan hadn’t realized what a sense of heightened anticipation she’d been in until his mouth covered hers and relief arced through her.
There were still nervous crackles in the back of her mind. What if he was an accomplished liar? What if it wasn’t her he wanted, but them?
All of that receded behind the avalanche of more immediate signals—the lingering taste of champagne on his tongue, the subtle notes of aftershave applied hours ago against skin that was warm with the musk of his own personal scent. The lightest scuff on his chin where his five o’clock stubble was coming in. The seductive play of his fingertips against her neck, masterful as a pianist teasing a love song from his keys.
A moan of need left her. She flowed into him, arms lifting to twine around his neck.
His arm twitched and there was a delicate ping and shatter of crystal against tile.
He broke their kiss and they both looked down at the glass she’d dropped.
In the next second, his arms slid around her. He lifted her off her feet and pivoted her out of the broken shards. As he set her back down, his mouth captured hers again, eclipsing all but the heavenly feel of him firmly surrounding her. Strong, restless hands slid under the back of her jacket, pressing her closer. He angled his head to kiss her deeper. She tightened her arms around his neck to arch herself into the bow of his towering frame.
All she knew was the erratic pulse in her ears, the sear of sexual heat in her blood, the edgy hunger that wanted to devour him. She slid her hands into his hair and lightly scraped her nails against his scalp.
The sound he made was regressive and thrilling. In a powerful move, he swept her up into the cradle of his arms. His gaze tracked over her with possessive satisfaction before coming back to meet hers, flashing with demand.
She was still trying to catch her breath. A fine tremble weakened her muscles. She suddenly had a new appreciation for how powerful he was. How unknown. Nerves accosted her again. Apprehension paired with a thrill of excitement.
“Say yes,” he commanded.
Oddly, his stern demand was the reassurance she needed. He wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want. But she did want. Her desire for him was profound.
Holding his intent stare, she toed off one shoe, letting it thud to the floor. Then the other. Her sister would kill her for treating them so poorly, but the way his nostrils flared was worth it.
“Quit being a brat.”
She curled her arms around his neck and pressed her smile into his throat, then licked the salty skin near his Adam’s apple. “Sí. Take me to your bed, Joaquin.”
He hitched her a little higher and carried her into the bedroom where he set her on her feet. “You’re too short now,” he grumbled.
She moved to kneel on the edge of the bed. “Better?”
“Much.” He aligned himself against her and they kissed again, brushing each other’s jackets away. “I could pet you for days in this,” he said of her cashmere sweater, hands skimming deliciously over her shoulders and back and rib cage and breasts.
For a long time, that was all he did. He petted and kissed her until she was leaning off the edge of the mattress, trying to get closer to him. Seeking the ridge of flesh that she wanted to feel in the cradle of her thighs.
“Wait here.” He steadied her before he walked into the bathroom.
She sat back on her heels, trying to blink herself out of the fog of arousal and the sudden denial of his touch. It could have been a moment to catch her bearings and rethink this, but he was already coming back.
He threw a strip of condoms onto the bed. “I presume I need those.”
“You do.” She was thrown by how little thought she’d given to protection, but she wasn’t on the pill anymore.
He began undressing so she did the same, tilting up the edge of her sweater to ask, “May I? Or did you want me to keep it on?”
“You may.” He granted his permission in a deep tone of authority that should have made her balk. He wasn’t the boss of her, but that hint of dominance was kind of a turn-on.
He wanted to control this moment and she wanted to push back so she took her time peeling up the edge of the ultra-soft knit, revealing one centimeter of skin at a time, stretching tall and holding her arms up to give him a long look at the demicups made from blue-and-gold lace that she wore beneath it.
“You very much may,” he said in a pleased rumble as he pulled the sweater free of her upraised arms and discarded it on the floor. “Dios, that’s pretty.” He traced the edge of the lace along the upper swell of her breast, tickling her skin.
Her nipple peaked against silk. He took care to reward her response with a lingering caress there.
“Take your hair down,” he said as he brought both his hands into play against the bra cups.
He was shirtless now and her hands went to his naked shoulders, wanting to feel all of his satiny skin. Wanting to kiss him and taste the hot plane of his chest.
He dragged her hands from his neck and moved them to the back of her head. “Let me see how long it is,” he insisted.
A helpless protest throbbed in her throat, but she did as he asked, pulling pins that fell willy-nilly to the floor.
As she did, he steadied her with his hands on her waist, watching intently. When the brunette waves fell around her shoulders, he ran his fingers through the length and held her head for a long, hot, ravenous kiss.
She was so lost in that dark, velvety space, she didn’t realize the weight of his hand was tangled in her hair, tugging her head back until his lips moved into her throat and down. He brushed aside her locket and dislodged the cup of her bra, lifting her breast to capture her nipple with the pull of his mouth.
Lightning streaked into her loins. She clasped at his shoulders, thinking she was about to fall onto her back, but his arm slid to support her as he held her off balance and feasted on her breast, teasing and feeding those fingers of electric heat that lanced through her abdomen and detonated between her thighs.
When she thought she couldn’t stand another moment of those intense sensations, of feeling suspended and helpless and consumed, he moved to her other breast.
“Joaquin,” she panted, shaking with arousal. Her core was drowning in neglect.
He lifted his head. “Too hard? I want to eat you up.”
“I want…this.” She splayed her hand on his abdomen then slid her palm lower to cup the thick ridge behind his fly.
He yanked open his belt and unzipped. She slid her hand inside the heat, behind the waistband of his boxer briefs, and clasped the steely weight of his erection.
He groaned into her mouth as he kissed her again, letting her explore his shape, running his hands over her back and buttocks, nipping at her ear and tugging at her hair again until he made a rough noise of tested restraint and caught her wrist.
“Finish undressing.”
She opened her trousers, then dropped onto her back to work them off her hips and down her legs. As she kicked them away, she arched to reach behind herself and release her bra.
She was still untangling herself from the bra straps when he pressed a hand to her hip, stilling her so he could study the panties that matched her bra.
“You have exquisite taste.” He followed the lace across her hip and into the V it took over her mound.
She bit her lip. Dampness flooded into the flesh that he traced through silk.
“H-how would you know?” she asked in a wicked challenge that was pure audacity.
“Oh, I will find out. Trust me on that, querida.” He peeled her panties down and away before he touched her again, this time letting his fingertip sink into the slippery folds that parted easily under his caress.
“Blond,” he noted of the neatly trimmed thatch. His curious gaze came up to the hair she colored, but she wasn’t capable of conversation. He had found her sweet spot and knew exactly how to incite the most delicious sensations.
She couldn’t keep her eyes open. Climax gathered as tension in her abdomen. Need.
“I want to be inside you so badly, I can hardly breathe,” he said in a rasp, gently invading with a wicked touch.
She stilled his hand. “I’m going to come,” she gasped.
“Then you should.” He pressed deeper and his thumb rolled across the knot of nerves that was already pulsing.
With a harsh groan, she pinned his hand with her own, thighs clamping closed while her body twisted in the throes of acute pleasure.
It should have been embarrassing to lose control with him watching in the full light of day, but it felt so good. Wave after wave rolled through her, each one more gratifying than the last, until she was shaken and breathless and floating.
As the storm receded, he eased his hand away and nudged her thighs open, rolling her onto her back. Her heart was still galloping, her breasts quivering with her uneven breaths.
He finished stripping and kicked away his clothes, gloriously naked from powerful shoulders to defined abs to thrusting erection.
She blindly felt for the condoms and offered them.
“I have promises to keep, querida.” His mouth slanted into a sinfully cruel smile and he bent to steal a wicked, intimate taste between her thighs.
She cried out. And shuddered with fresh longing. Then she moaned as he pulled her hips to the edge of the bed and mercilessly drew her back to a state of acute arousal. When her fists were in his hair and she was lifting her hips in a plea for the climax that hovered so elusively, he rose and reached for the condoms.
“As I said. Exquisite.” His expression held carnal intent, but he said, “Now, tell me again what you want. Be specific.”
“You. This.” She caressed the naked column of heat as he moved her up the mattress and used his knee to spread her thighs. She squeezed and sought the places that made him twitch. She was completely stripped of inhibition. “I want to taste you.” She licked her lips.
His breath huffed out as though he’d been punched.
“But I also want to feel you here.” She ran her hand to her own sex, where she was soaked and aching.
“Then you shall have me,” he said through his teeth and rolled on the condom.
As he loomed over her, she guided him into place. He filled her in one firm, perfect thrust that made her arch in glorious abandon.
When he kissed her, she tasted herself and it only made the experience more erotic. Profound. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and urged him to unleash his full power, propelling them both into the volcano.
Coated in sweat and still suffering aftershocks from his powerful orgasm, Joaquin dragged himself free of her. He discarded the condom, then dropped onto his back beside her. His chest continued to heave, striving to catch his breath.
What had started as a pleasant diversion had turned into something that bordered on cataclysmic. Sex was supposed to be just sex. It was a shared experience in which he gave more than he took. He was never as generous with his business partners as his intimate ones, but in bed it was a case of wanting the same thing: pleasure. Giving was as good as getting for him. They were two sides of the same coin. The encounter was delightful while it lasted and afterward, his appetite was sated. His desire to possess was gone.
So why did he have this prickling sense of loss?
It wasn’t the grief of losing his brother. Not the reduction of assets due to stock market fluctuations or other business cycles. This was the sense of something being taken. Held out of reach.
Which didn’t make sense because she was right here.
And he had no intention of keeping her.
This unsettled sensation was a belated reaction to his father’s attempts to manipulate him, he decided. He was stuck in the confluence of two crashing forces: his desire to expunge his father from his life and his responsibility to his brother’s wife and children. He’d taken brief refuge from that mental war in the fleshy paradise that was Siobhan. He didn’t regret it, but he couldn’t let this respite she’d offered him become more significant than it was.
He couldn’t let desire for her dull him to his duty.
“You know when you get a really great massage and you never want to move again?” She rolled onto her stomach and hugged the pillow that she pulled under her head and chest. Her eyelids drooped heavily as she blinked at him. The corners of her lips tilted in libidinous pleasure. “That’s how I feel right now,” she purred.
“I don’t get those kinds of massages, but no judgment.”
“As if!” Her teeth flashed and she slid across the sheet to drape herself over his chest, making him delightfully aware of the way her breasts brushed his skin before settling warm and plump against him. “I thought you promised me dinner?”
“Are you hungry? Why on earth would that be?” Despite his decision to distance himself, he absently gathered her more fully atop him. “I can order something. Or would you rather dress and go out?” Leaving this room would be prudent.
“This is nice.” She shifted in a full body caress, legs interlacing with his own in a way that was pure seduction.
“It is.” He ran his hands down her back and over the cool cheeks of her ass, thinking the cashmere had been lovely, but he preferred her naked skin. Perhaps he would indulge himself, and her, a little longer.
But only a little.
She nuzzled his jaw and her hair fell across his mouth.
He brushed it back behind her ear.
“Why do you color it?” Not that he was complaining. On the contrary, he was mildly turned on by the fact he knew her natural color and few others did.
“No one takes me seriously as a blonde.” She slid off him and sat up, letting her dark hair fall forward to curtain her profile. “Do you mind if I pop down to my room? I need to take out my contacts.” She blinked at him.
He kept getting the sense she was hiding something. It provoked his frustration that he wouldn’t get the chance to learn all her secrets, but such was his life right now.
He kept a light tone as he said, “If you come back and your eyes aren’t blue, I really will believe you work for the government.”
“But which one?” she challenged with a cheeky grin.
He slid his fingers along her hip and thigh, unable to keep from enjoying the supple softness of her. She was a warm, glowing light that mesmerized him the way a candle flame drew a moth.
“My eyes are blue. I promise.” Her expression altered as she noticed the scar on the side of his chest. She gently traced it. “Broken rib? That was a bad one.”
“It was,” he agreed impassively, not telling her the hospital stay had been a relief from worse.
Her mouth grew pensive and her touch on that sensitive scar began to burn.
He caught her hand and carried it to his lips so he could kiss her palm.
She let him, but looked deeply into his eyes. “You don’t want to talk about it.”
“I don’t.” He tried to soften his words with a caress of her cheek, but he couldn’t escape the fact he was setting hard, necessary boundaries. “If you’re looking for someone you can truly share secrets with, I am not that man.”
She blinked in a way that suggested his words had struck like a blow. She bit the corner of her mouth and looked toward the window as she sat up and withdrew her hand.
He fought the urge to drag her down into his arms again. To press her beneath him and make her his all over again. He’d never been possessive. He hadn’t been allowed to be. Everything was Fernando’s with very few crumbs left over for the spare.
Joaquin had taught himself not to want anything to be his. That had helped enormously when it came to gambling in tech manufacturing. He was willing to take risks that others weren’t, simply because he didn’t attach himself to material wealth or personal recognition. Losing a contract or a sum of money annoyed him, but he didn’t let it affect him too deeply. The global company his father was now dangling like a carrot, pretending he had intentions of allowing Joaquin to run it? It meant absolutely nothing to him. He didn’t want it. At all. Only his loyalty to his brother compelled him to take an interest in keeping it afloat.
Siobhan, though. He discovered he wanted Siobhan. It was visceral, this urge to grasp onto her and keep her by his side.
Which was disturbing enough to prevent him from giving in to that desire. Everything he possessed needed to be something he was willing to lose. It was the only way to stay sane. Fear of losing something he really wanted was the reason he coveted nothing.
He tucked his arm beneath his head to keep from reaching for her, but his conscience pinched as he acknowledged she might not be as sophisticated as he’d judged her to be.
“I’ve hurt your feelings.”
“No.” He suspected she was saving face, adding with forced lightness, “Apparently, you’re right about fate and free will. We’re not meant to be. This was lovely, though. Thank you.” Her hair spilled across his chest and cheek as she tapped his mouth with hers then flitted away just as quickly.
Was. He unwound his arm from behind his head, but she was already sliding off the bed. “You’re not coming back?”
“You still want me to?” she asked over her shoulder, allowing him to glimpse a vulnerability in her gaze that kicked at his conscience again.
Let her go, he told himself, but his mouth said, “If you want to.”
Her smile dawned in a way that expanded light inside him, promising a stay of execution from the mess that awaited in Madrid.
As she dressed, he rose to pull on his own trousers, then followed her into the lounge where she picked up her shoes, but didn’t put them on.
“My walk of shame is only down the hall.”
“Is that how you feel?” he asked with dismay. “Ashamed?”
“No. I’m actually feeling very smug.” She slid him a heavy-lashed look that tightened his skin.
“Good. I’ll order dinner and call someone to clean up the glass. Hurry back.”
They kissed lightly. Too lightly. If he’d known it would be their last kiss, he would have made it count.
