Latin Lovers Untamed. Jane PorterЧитать онлайн книгу.
burst out of her skin any moment. “You’re the one making assumptions.”
“I’m not making assumptions. I want you. You know I want you, but we can’t have an affair because it’s not the right example to set for Anabella.”
Fire-hot shivers raced through her. She’d never felt so heated before. “No. We can’t have one because I don’t want one with you!”
“You can’t admit the truth.”
“The truth is we’re only together now because we’re stuck with the lousy decisions our fathers made. We have nothing in common, we would have never been attracted to each other if we weren’t forced to work together, and this … this energy or chemistry or whatever you want to call it isn’t real.”
He laughed grimly. “It’s as real as anything else in life, muneca.”
“Well, I don’t feel a thing.” And that was a lie, she thought, because her legs had melted and her body felt like honey and she wanted him so badly she thought she’d pop out of her skin.
He knew she was lying, too.
His eyes darkened, his head shook once and then his mouth covered hers in a hard punishing kiss, a kiss that stole her breath, clouded her head and turned her legs to mush.
His tongue thrust against the edge of her teeth, flicked the inside of her lower lip, and when she opened her mouth to him plundered the warm, moist recesses.
The incredibly sexual thrusting of his tongue gave her a graphic idea of what his body would do to hers given the chance, and she shuddered in response, desire surging through her in wild, unmitigated waves.
A moan of frustration escaped her, and he arched her backward, dragging her hips tight against his hard groin and pressing her chest. It was a strangely vulnerable position and yet also exciting.
He made her feel so hot and sensitive that when his hand slid beneath her blue cotton blouse she nearly fainted at the exquisite pleasure of his palm against her bare skin.
His touch was electric, erotic. His fingertips seemed to count and measure her ribs before cupping her breasts. This desire was something altogether new, something so wild and desperate that Daisy couldn’t think, just feel. She felt his palm graze her nipple over the lace cup of her bra and then peel the lace away and rub the nipple.
Her body had taken over; her need had a will of its own. She loved the newness of her desire, loved the intensity, as well. She’d never thought she could feel so much, hadn’t expected her hunger to be so strong.
With one hand he cupped her bottom and urged her closer to his hips, pressing her against his straining body.
Sweet mercy. Her gasp left him in no doubt as to her feelings, nor did her helpless response as his hips ground against hers, his arousal pressing between her thighs, striking the most tender of nerves.
Her breasts felt heavy, the nipples thrusting against her shirt, her thighs clenched, desire throbbing in her belly. She’d strip here, if he wanted. She’d strip him, too, and—
A car horn blared in the distance, over and over, as though the driver were leaning on it.
Daisy heard the noise in a dim part of her brain and managed to ignore it. But Dante heard it and with a guttural groan pulled away.
“This is real,” he said thickly, as she swayed on her feet and clung to his arms, “but this is what can’t happen. Not here. Not in Argentina, and especially near my sister. Comprehende?”
He was furious, but whether with her or himself she couldn’t tell. She stared into his eyes, saw the fire mix with anger, desire with frustration and knew he was right. This was not a good thing and couldn’t be encouraged, much less permitted.
“Comprehende,” she replied, pushing back from him, her face warm, her body throbbing.
He’d obliterated her self-control completely. Turned her inside out and reduced her to a puddle of need. Incredible.
The car horn sounded again, and Dante lifted a hand in greeting as a dark green Land Rover jostled and gyrated into view.
“My sister,” he said grimly, turning to face Daisy and attempting to tuck the hem of her blouse into her trousers.
She brushed his hand away. “Don’t worry. This won’t happen again.”
His lips compressed. He glanced at the clouds of dust encircling the car and then at Daisy. “You understand why?”
She shoved the shirttail inside her waistband and adjusted her silver belt buckle. “Yes. Because I don’t want this to happen again.”
“That’s not the issue.”
“It is the issue. Your father and my father screwed up, and we’ve been left to sort it out. So let’s sort it out so I can go home and get the hell out of Argentina!” She heard her voice crack, felt her composure shatter. She was on the edge, more than on the edge and very close to losing all self-control.
His kiss, his hands, his touch … they undid her. Worse than undid her.
He made her want so much—too much—and she didn’t know how to cope with such intense sensations and emotions. It was one thing to be attracted to someone but it was another to feel utterly carnal. And she felt carnal. She felt hungry and raw and desperate.
Heaven help her, this was not how it was supposed to be, at all.
CHAPTER SIX
THE green car careened to a stop, kicking up dirt and loose pebbles. The driver leaned out the window, arms braced against the door, long black hair tumbling past bare shoulders. “Hola, Dante,” the teenage girl shouted.
“You’re late,” Dante snapped.
“Not very. A half hour. Maybe an hour.”
She’d been speaking Spanish, but Dante abruptly switched to English. “Two hours late, Anabella. You were supposed to be here at four.”
Anabella switched easily to English, too, her accent surprisingly mild. She’d obviously spent considerable time in the States.
“You said five,” Anabella insisted. “I come up at five.” Her slim shoulders lifted, fell in a graceful little shrug. “Four. Five. Sounds the same, no? Maybe I misunderstood.”
“They don’t sound the same to most people,” Dante answered, teeth flashing, jaw jutting, making Daisy think of a lion snarling.
“But I’m not most people.”
Daisy was sure he was going to lose his temper. He looked perfectly furious. And then suddenly the tension melted from his body, the anger fading from his features. “No, you’re not like most people. That’s the problem with you.”
She shot him a naughty, teasing glance, green-gold eyes dancing with mischief. “It’s good to see you, too, Dante.”
“You are supposed to be in school. What happened?”
“They threw me out. Again. Can you believe that?” She made a face at him, chin propped on the windowframe. Her eyes were a lighter shade than Dante’s and considerably greener, but she was every bit as beautiful and perhaps even more vivid.
No wonder Dante had his hands full. Anabella wasn’t just physically perfect, she was mentally quick, her tone, gestures, features alive and vivacious.
“Unfortunately, I can believe it,” he answered, leaning forward and kissing her on each cheek. “Now get in the back, I’m going to drive home.”
“Let me drive!”
“Anabella.”
In the end, she reluctantly climbed over the seat, her tight black skirt hiked high on her thigh revealing an extraordinary amount of leg. Although Dante cast