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breasts and fire engulfed her, making her cry out with pleasure.

      ‘You are the most desirable woman ever, mi esposa.’

      He kissed down her neck, uttering words she didn’t understand. But she did understand the desire and passion entwined with each one. A desire and passion that raged as wildly inside her.

      ‘Santos, I want you.’ Her voice was husky as his hands slid down her stomach, his fingers tugging at the ties on the side of the bikini briefs. As the material fell away his fingers moved towards the heated centre of her need for him and she arched away from him, trying to fight the ripple of pleasure from his touch.

      With a suddenness that knocked all the breath from her body he turned her around, grasped her thighs, lifting her against him.

      ‘Santos, it’s never been like this before,’ she gasped between ragged breaths as he lowered her onto him, plunging deeply and urgently inside her. She didn’t care that she was telling him too much, giving away just how inexperienced she really was and how she was falling in love with him.

      ‘Never?’ The question rasped from him, halting her thoughts, as his fingers dug into her thighs, holding her where he wanted her.

      She moved with him, encouraging him in this hot, hard and primal dance. ‘Never,’ she gasped out as stars shattered around her so that instead of water coursing all over her it was stardust. ‘Never. Never.’

      As he found his release she clung to his body, trembling more now than she had when she’d stood before him in the bedroom just moments ago. He was breathing hard, his chest heaving against her tender breasts, one arm braced against the shower wall.

      ‘At least we agree on something.’ His voice, heavily accented, was a ragged whisper.

      He released his vice-like grip on her thighs and she slid down, her legs so weak she wondered if she’d be able to stand. She couldn’t. Her knees crumpled, but his arms were about her and in seconds he’d swept her up off her feet and left the shower.

      Pausing briefly to grab a towel, he made his way to the bed. As if she were the most precious thing in the world he let her down to stand in front of him and then wrapped the white towel around her, heedless of his own wet body. Then he bent and kissed her lips so tenderly she thought she might actually cry. This was exactly what she’d abandoned all hope of ever finding, this warm, loving feeling.

      Except this wasn’t for real. This was just part of a deal, satisfying the attraction that had been arcing between them since that very first meeting. It was also the only way she knew of keeping Santos from heading back to the villa and maybe London.

      ‘You’re still wet,’ she whispered, not wanting to analyse her motives or question her dreams now.

      He stepped back from her and started rubbing his hands over the towel to dry her. This was getting too intense, too close to being like a proper romance, so great was the attraction she felt for him. Her breath shuddered as he pulled the towel from her and dried himself off. And all the while his gaze held hers, the passion and desire still flowing between them evident in the depths of his eyes.

      He picked her dressing gown off the bed, now remade after their night of passion, and handed it to her. ‘You must care for your sister very much.’

      Instantly her senses were on high alert. What was he suggesting? ‘She’s all I have.’

      He handed her the cream silk garment. ‘But to marry just so that your sister can marry for love?’ His voice rose with incredulity as he took fresh clothes from the wardrobe and hastily got dressed.

      ‘Maybe I love my sister as much as you hate your brother.’ Was he referring to their marriage or her first one? It made no difference; both had been made out of love for her sister.

      Tension filled the room and his eyes sparked with anger as he stood in front of her, all the passion and desire of moments ago forgotten.

      ‘Half-brother.’ The words were harsh and staccato.

      She pulled on the dressing gown, no longer wanting him to see her naked now he was clothed, as if it somehow weakened her. He turned and paced across the room towards the door, but she couldn’t let him go, couldn’t let him walk out now, even if it meant killing the loving moments they’d shared.

      ‘Coward.’ The word rushed from her lips, provoking him.

      Instantly he whirled round and fixed her with a fierce glare, his face a hardened and angry mask. ‘I don’t do emotions, Georgina. Hate or love. I don’t do them.’

      ‘And because of that two people who love one another are suffering.’

      ‘How?’ He strode back across the room, but she stood her ground. ‘And how do you know they are in love? How do they even know?’

      ‘You must have loved someone, Santos, despite what you just said.’

      ‘Love is for weak-willed fools.’ His voice was like granite and his eyes glittered dangerously as he looked at her.

      ‘You don’t really believe that?’ she whispered in disbelief.

      She’d vowed she’d never love anyone other than Emma, never give her heart to a man as her mother had time and time again. But somehow she’d become dangerously close to loving Santos.

      ‘Isn’t that why you made this damn deal, Georgina, because you don’t believe in love?’ He was like an angry lion, caged up and looking for a way out as he strode across the room to glance out of the window. He turned and looked at her, waiting for her reply.

      ‘I did it for love.’ She rallied against his contempt. ‘I did it for the love of my sister.’

      ‘Ha!’ He laughed, so arrogantly she almost cringed. ‘You did it for money, for all you could get from it—just as you did the first time around.’

      How dared he bring Richard into this? The man who had seen she needed a lifeline and offered one without expecting anything in return? Well, if that was what he thought of her, so be it. Attack was the best form of defence.

      ‘Yes, just as I did the first time.’

      For a moment he looked at her in stunned silence, his jaw grinding hard. He looked for all the world as if he was jealous of Richard. How could a powerful man like Santos be jealous of anything or anyone?

      He glared at her. ‘Get dressed,’ he snapped after what seemed like an eternity. ‘We’re going back to the villa.’

      Panic tore at her. She’d promised Emma she’d keep him out of the way, and here on the yacht was the perfect place.

      ‘So soon?’ She hated the nervous edge to her voice, but knew any attempts at flattering him would be futile.

      His eyes narrowed. ‘I have work to do. Playing at this newlywed game has gone on for long enough.’

      With that he strode from the room and she sank onto the bed. Last night they had made love for the first time, been given pleasure so intense it still lingered in her body. Only minutes ago they had been consumed by desire and need for one another. How could the man who kissed her so passionately be the same man who’d just left the room?

      She dragged in a deep breath, pressing her fingertips to her lips, bruised from his hard kisses in the shower. How could she, a woman who’d renounced love, feel such desolation as the man she’d given herself to last night with total completeness walked out on her?

       CHAPTER NINE

      SANTOS’S MOOD WAS as dark as the storm clouds rolling down from the mountains. He’d thought Georgina was different, thought she could keep emotions out of things. Instead she’d proved beyond doubt that she was as clingy as any woman, unable to resist the urge to delve into his past.

      He’d thought he’d met his match—a woman

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