THE EARLY NOVEMBER morning was cold and gray as Rodrigo turned the car down Prince Street, turning on Mercer.
Lola rolled down the window, breathing the cool air, relishing the feel against her hot skin. The air made her shiver. Or maybe it was the thought that she’d soon be Rodrigo’s wife. She looked up at the lowering sky. She wondered what Hallie and Tess would say when they were invited to Lola’s wedding out of the blue.
Her lips quirked. They would be surprised, to say the least.
She’d met Hallie Hatfield and Tess Foster last year at a New York single moms’ support group. They’d been the only ones who were pregnant, and they’d soon realized that none of them had told the fathers about the babies.
Her friends were both now happily married. While Lola just prayed she wasn’t making a horrible mistake.
Rodrigo pulled his sedan to the front of a fashionable prewar building in SoHo, where a doorman took his keys.
“Good morning, Mr. Cabrera. In the garage like always?”
“Thank you, Andrews,” Rodrigo said, walking around the car to get the stroller from the trunk. The doorman’s eyes widened when he saw it, and even more when he saw Lola get out and take their baby in her arms.
Tucking sleepy Jett into the stroller, Lola followed Rodrigo into the lobby of the luxurious building, and into an elevator that he accessed with a fingerprint.
On the top floor, the elevator opened directly onto a private foyer. And Lola entered the penthouse loft she hadn’t visited in over a year.
Shivering, she looked around the large, bohemian penthouse loft. Colorful furniture filled the enormous space, and huge windows showed an expansive, unrestricted southern view of the city, to the skyscrapers of Lower Manhattan. She could dimly see the steel and glass building where she’d once worked for Sergei Morozov. Strange to think that Rodrigo could have been unknowingly looking at her, whenever he’d visited New York. So close, but so far apart.
The bare brick walls were decorated with old original movie posters, along with old neon signs, which were no doubt originals, too. Rodrigo had occasionally seen neon signs he liked as he traveled to his movie sets around the world, from Tokyo to Sydney to Berlin. She’d watched in awe as he’d casually bought entire businesses, simply to acquire the signs.
That was Rodrigo, Lola thought, a little bitterly. He’d rip out someone’s beating heart just to tap his toe to the rhythm.
She blinked hard, to make sure no trace of emotion was on her face. She might become his wife, but he’d never possess her. She’d never let herself love him, ever again.
“Miss Price!” The New York housekeeper, Mrs. Farrow, came in from the next room of the loft. The woman’s plump face broke into a big smile. “I’m so glad you’re back. And how exciting, you’re going to be married?”
“Strange, huh?” Lola said, feeling awkward. Especially when the woman was followed by a white-haired, distinguished-looking man Lola didn’t know.
“Not strange. Lovely.” Mrs. Farrow knelt before the stroller, smiling at Jett. “And this is your baby?”
“Yes... Jett.”
The older woman beamed. “He’s adorable.”
Pulling off her black gloves, one by one, Lola stuck them in her pockets. “Thank you.”
The white-haired man smiled at her, his eyes twinkling beneath bushy white brows. “So should we get this show on the road?”
Lola frowned at Rodrigo. “What’s he talking about?”
“This is the judge,” he said. “He’s going to marry us.”
“What? When?”
“Today.” Rodrigo’s lips curved. “Now.”
Lola stared at him in shock.
“We can’t,” she stammered. “We need a marriage license.”
“Occasionally, when there’s a good reason, the rules can be bent.”
“What’s the good reason?”
His black eyes gleamed. “It’s Sunday. And I wish to marry you today. Not wait to get the license from City Hall tomorrow and then wait another twenty-four hours after that.” He turned to the judge. “Shall we begin, your honor?”
“Now?” Lola’s head was spinning. “No! I want a real ceremony! With my friends!”
Rodrigo’s sensual lips curved sardonically. “Sorry to crush all your romantic dreams,” he said, as if he was sure she didn’t actually have any. “You’ll have to settle—” he reached into his pocket “—for this.”
Holding up a small black velvet box, he opened it to reveal an engagement ring. Her eyes went wide. The diamond was as huge as a robin’s egg.
“We have everything else we need. Witnesses.” He looked at Mrs. Farrow, and Tobias, the bodyguard who’d just come in through the front door. “A judge.” Tilting his head, he said courteously to the white-haired man, “I hope your daughter is doing well.”
“Yes, and I’ll never forget how you helped her,” the judge said warmly. “My four grandchildren still have a mother today thanks to you.”
Rodrigo acknowledged his praise with a slight nod. “I was glad to pay for the experimental treatment. I’m pleased it worked. And grateful for your help.”
“What, marrying you two?” The judge’s voice was genial. “Marrying folks is my favorite part of the job! I’ll make sure the paperwork’s all handled right.” Then, looking at Lola, he faltered. “Of course, only if the lady is willing.”
“I’m not,” she said flatly.
“Excuse us for a moment.” Grabbing her arm, Rodrigo pulled her back to the foyer. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Lifting her snoozing, limp baby from the stroller, she glared at him fiercely. “I’m not getting married without my friends!”
“Which friends are you hoping to see?” Rodrigo’s voice was dangerous and low. “A certain lovelorn Russian, to try to make me jealous?”
Lola looked at him in shock, then burst into a laugh. “Sergei? You can’t be serious!”
“I don’t intend to wait.” His expression hardened. “We’re getting married. Right now.”
“Or else what?”
“Do not defy me.”
“Is that a threat?”
His voice changed. “Marrying me today will benefit you as well.”
“How?”
“It goes both ways. Perhaps if we wait—” he tilted his head thoughtfully “—I’ll get cold feet and decide to call it all off.”
“Fine with me—”
“Perhaps I’ll decide I’d rather sue for full custody, and take my chances in the courts. I can wait out a long trial. Can you?”
She glared at him.
He smiled.
Lola looked down at her baby’s fuzzy jacket, breathing in his sweet baby scent. “I don’t appreciate ham-fisted threats.”
He shrugged. “I despise long engagements—”
“Long!”
“I want to get this done.” His gaze hardened. “Is there any reason to delay?”
Her friends, she thought desperately. She wanted Tess and Hallie here for emotional support. And what about her little sisters? She hadn’t seen them for seven years, but it felt wrong not to have her only family here.
But she couldn’t be vulnerable enough to show weakness. Especially not with Rodrigo.
Instead, she indicated her black puffy jacket and leggings. “Does this look like a wedding dress to you?”
Taking off his cashmere coat, he glanced down at his own black shirt and trousers and gave a sardonic smile. “We are both wearing black, which seems appropriate for the occasion.”
“Meaning what? This is like a funeral for you?” Hurt rushed through her, followed by anger. “If you’re having second thoughts about marriage...”
His dark eyes turned hard. “I’m not. And neither are you.” He looked down at her. “It happens now.”
Her heart sank. So there would be no pleasant pre-wedding afternoon at the day spa with Tess and Hallie. No deep intense conversations over champagne as they helped her get ready to be a bride. They wouldn’t be here to support her as she pledged her life to the man who’d broken her heart. The man who’d judged her past mistakes and made it clear he didn’t think she was good enough. The man who’d tossed her love back in her face, and would never, ever, have wanted to marry her if not for Jett.
Lola would face it alone. Dressed for a funeral.
She took a deep breath.
“Fine,” she said coldly. “Let’s get it over with.”
They returned to the main room of the loft.
“We’re ready,” Rodrigo told the judge.
“There’s no rush, you know.” The white-haired man suddenly looked nervous, glancing between them as if wondering what he’d gotten himself into, and how he could get himself out of it. “Marriage is, after all, a solemn occasion. Now that I think about it, there’s a reason why the State of New York, in its infinite wisdom, instituted a twenty-four-hour waiting period—”
“Just do it,” Rodrigo said harshly. His hand gripped her shoulder.
“Please,” whispered Lola, ignoring the lump in her throat.
The judge hesitated. Then the baby gave a sudden sleepy whimper in Lola’s arms, and she and Rodrigo both turned to comfort him. Watching them caring together for their son, tucking the baby back into the stroller for his nap, the judge seemed reassured. He gave a decisive nod when they returned.
“Very well. Ladies and gentlemen,” he intoned. “We are gathered here today, in the presence of witnesses, to unite this man and this woman in the bonds of matrimony...”
The short ceremony passed quickly. As if in a dream, Lola heard herself speak the words that bound her to Rodrigo for life.
But the awful truth was, she’d bound herself to him long ago, from the night she’d become pregnant with his child.
And now, from this moment on, forever.
Rodrigo’s dark eyes gleamed down at her as the ceremony drew to a close. He seemed almost surprised. Why? Had he thought for some reason that something would prevent it?
Their eyes locked as he slid that obscenely huge diamond on her finger. Funny. Once, she would have dreamed of a moment like this. At fourteen, she dreamed of love, and a handsome prince. At eighteen, she would have just been keen to hock the ring.
And now, at twenty-five, how different this moment felt from anything she’d imagined!
“... I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The judge looked between them with a wink. “You may now kiss the bride.”
Kiss?
Lola looked up at the man who was now her husband. I feel nothing, she told herself desperately. Nothing.
As Rodrigo lowered his head toward hers, she put her hand up to stop him. His chest felt so powerful, so muscular, that in spite of herself, she shivered. “What about your wedding band?” His left hand was still bare. “Don’t you need a ring, too?”
“I’m a man. I don’t need jewelry to feel married.”
She stiffened at his sexist remark. But before she could protest, he took her roughly into his arms.
“Mrs. Cabrera,” he whispered.
Her lips parted in shock as she heard him speak her new name. Ruthlessly, he lowered his mouth to hers.
His lips were hot and sweet, tasting of spice and fire. As he kissed her, the world started to spin. Feeling the strength and power of his body against her own, she gripped his shoulders for balance. She forgot everything in her own aching need. She’d wanted him for so long. A sigh rose from deep inside her, the recognition that this man was hers, hers alone, as she had always been his...
The judge, housekeeper and bodyguard watching them applauded, and Lola suddenly remembered they had an audience.
Pulling away, Rodrigo looked down at her with gleaming eyes.
Pleasure was still spiraling through her as her lips tingled from his bruising kiss. When his mouth had claimed hers, all the distance between them, all the coldness and anger, had exploded into fire, like two storms colliding. But now the distance was back.
She tried to read his expression, to see if the kiss had affected him like it had her. But his face gave nothing away. “Thank you,” he said to the judge, then turned to the bodyguard, Tobias. “Everything is ready for our departure?”
“Already packed, Mr. Cabrera.”
“Packed?” Lola frowned at her brand-new husband. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Not me. We.” Rodrigo gave her a smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “My jet is waiting to take us to Los Angeles.”
It was like a splash of ice water, jolting her awake. “But New York is my home now. My sisters—all my friends—”
His lips twisted. “Friends like Morozov?”
“He was never my friend!”
He snorted. “Exactly.”
Lola ground her teeth. “Why are you being so unreasonable!”
“You just agreed to be my wife, Lola. To honor and obey.” Rodrigo gave her a cruel smile. Cupping her cheek, he looked down at her as he said softly, “Now you will.”
* * *
Rodrigo could hardly believe it.
After all his engagements that had never made it to the altar, this one actually had. They were married. He was almost in shock.
Perhaps it was true he’d rushed their vows that morning. But once he’d made up his mind to marry her, he couldn’t give Lola a chance to betray him like the rest. He couldn’t take any chances with fate, or whatever else had cursed his life.
This marriage would work. It had to work. They had a child.
Now, as Rodrigo drove his red convertible north, traveling from the private airport outside Los Angeles to his beach house near Malibu, Rodrigo glanced at the rearview mirror. He saw his baby’s pudgy hand waving from the rear-facing baby seat. Jett was making cooing noises, and seemed delighted to be in California, beneath the palm trees and warm blue skies.
It was strange to think he had a child. Even stranger for Rodrigo to think he was a father. What did he know about fatherhood?
His own parents had left him in the care of nannies. His mother, an American actress, had traveled the world enjoying her love affairs, as the man who’d supposedly been his father, Francisco Cabrera, had tortured himself with jealousy pursuing the unfaithful wife he adored.
It wasn’t until Francisco’s funeral, when Rodrigo was twenty-one, that his mother told him the reason the man always seemed to despise him. Rodrigo’s real father had been the chauffeur.
“He was very handsome, and I was bored, what can I say?” Elizabeth Cabrera had told him, putting her finger to her cheek thoughtfully. “It was just a one-night indiscretion. Francisco wanted me to get rid of you. Perhaps I should have. My figure was never quite the same after.”
Now, Rodrigo glanced in the rearview mirror of the convertible, toward his son. Jett was such a sweet little boy, with big black eyes and chubby cheeks. He’d been obviously well fed and well cared for. Obviously loved. Beneath Lola’s ferocity, there was utter devotion for their son.
He appreciated that about her, at least.
In some ways, their new relationship was simple: they were a family. But between Rodrigo and Lola, now husband and wife, it was a little more complicated.
His gaze now shifted to his wife, sitting beside him in the convertible. Her arms were folded, and she was seething silently at the wide Pacific Ocean as they drove up the coastal highway. He smiled grimly.
He hadn’t lied when he’d said she was smart and a fighter. She’d been the best personal assistant he’d ever had, even better than Marnie, his longest-serving secretary. He’d relied on Lola’s intelligence, on her strength. She’d been a miracle worker as an employee, always able to achieve the impossible, willing to work any hour of the day or night, even on Christmas Day.
For two years, he’d wanted her. But he hadn’t let himself even flirt. Then, after Lola had kissed him in Mexico City, he’d taken her to bed, and discovered she was a virgin. From that moment, they’d been intoxicated, drunk on passion and pleasure. When she’d told him she loved him, in spite of everything, his heart had expanded in his chest.
Then Marnie had given him those awful photographs of Lola half-naked in that chair, looking seductively into the camera. And there was more.
Sir, there’s something you should know about Lola Price.
Rodrigo still felt sick thinking about it.
But why had Lola ever done those sordid things at eighteen? The thought jolted him. Because she clearly wasn’t the coldhearted gold digger he’d once believed her to be. If she’d cared only about money, she would have demanded a huge payout from Rodrigo the moment she’d discovered she was pregnant.
So why had Lola posed for those provocative photographs? Why had she done even worse? Just youthful stupidity? He ground his teeth. He’d had his share of that himself, with his own three broken engagements. But was there more to it? Had she just been desperate to be a movie star? Or had something forced her into it?
Rodrigo looked at Lola out of the corner of his eye. The warm wind was tossing her blond hair in the sun. But her jaw was tight, and she was tapping her fingertips on the convertible’s armrest in repressed fury.
No point in asking her, he knew. She guarded the darkest secrets of her soul with grim determination. In that, she and Rodrigo were the same.
During the flight from New York on his private jet, they’d sat at opposite ends of the cabin, ignoring each other. She’d accused him of bossing her around, being a tyrant. Not a great start. But it wouldn’t go on for long.
His gaze traced down the curve of her cheek, to her swanlike throat and full breasts. He’d promised to honor and cherish her, forsaking all others. She didn’t realize that he’d already done that for the last year. He was hungry for her. Starving.
He wanted her in his bed. Tonight.
But first, he needed her to actually look at him. He grudgingly extended an olive branch.
“Are you really so upset about leaving New York?”
“You had no right,” Lola said, turning to him with her eyes blazing. “Just because I’m your wife doesn’t mean I’m your slave. I wanted to stay in New York, but you didn’t care! Just like you didn’t care you frog-marched me through our wedding!”
“You wanted Morozov there?”
She let loose a curse that would have made a sailor blush.
“Not Morozov, then,” he said, amused. “Then who?”
“My friends. Hallie. Tess.” She looked disconsolately out at the hills. “My sisters.”
“You said you haven’t seen your sisters in years.”
“I haven’t,” she whispered.
“Then I don’t see why it matters that they weren’t there today.”
Lola took a deep breath. “They’re a lot younger than me. Still just kids. My mother died when they were just five and eight. They were sent to foster care, then adopted.” Her jaw tightened. “When I left California last year, I went to New York. I intended to finally ask them to forgive me. For not keeping my promise to get custody back.” She looked down at her hands, twisting in her lap. “But I never had the guts.”
Admitting failure was so unlike Lola that he glanced at her in surprise. He switched gears, stepping hard on the gas as they drove up the highway. “You’ll think of some way to smooth things over. You always do.”
Lola looked at him hopefully out of the corner of her eye. “You think so?”
He snorted. “You never had trouble arranging people when you were my assistant. You always managed to get me appointments with anyone from feared dictators to beloved religious leaders.”
“Because you’re you.”
“And you’re you,” he said firmly. “You know how to argue people into things. When you’re ready to see your sisters, you’ll figure out how.”
Lola bit her lip thoughtfully. He could almost see the wheels start to turn in her mind. “I could send them some amazing present. Just to break the ice. Then they’d have to contact me to say thanks.”
“That could work,” he said, smiling. He was glad to see some of the dark cloud lift from her shoulders—and glad to distract her from being angry at him for rushing her into marriage and back to California.
“It could.” She smiled back, and it was warmer and brighter than the California sun.
Then her lips twisted mischievously. “I’m warning you. The gift will probably be expensive.”
Rodrigo shrugged. “Spend whatever you like. What’s mine is yours.”
“Do you mean that?”
“I already know you didn’t marry me for my money, Lola.”
“No.” Her expression darkened. She turned away, her arm resting on the edge of the convertible as she looked out at the ocean. “I married you because you blackmailed me.”
The brief moment of camaraderie, of shared sunshine, abruptly disappeared.
Rodrigo turned the convertible off the highway, traveling down a private lane to the edge of tall stone walls that blocked off his compound. He punched in the security code, and the gate slid open. He drove the convertible inside the courtyard, followed closely by his longtime bodyguard, Tobias Watson, in the SUV with all the luggage.
“Back to home sweet home,” he murmured.
“Yes,” Lola said, looking up at the beach house.
Getting out of the convertible, he reached in the back seat of the convertible to unbuckle their baby.
“I can do that,” she said, alarmed.
“It’s done.” Gently, he lifted their baby from the car seat and held him in his arms. Lola looked panicked, and then, looking closer, confused.
“You’re holding him correctly,” she said, clearly shocked. She looked at his face. “How did you learn to hold a baby?”
“You think I’m completely incompetent?” Rodrigo drawled.
“You’ve never held a baby in your life.”
“Then I must be a natural.” He didn’t bother to explain that while she’d been studiously ignoring him on the flight, when he’d been working on his laptop, he’d actually been reading articles about the proper care and handling of infants. He wasn’t going to let Lola lord her greater knowledge over him, or be forced to ask her for the favor of teaching him what to do.
Once, he would have asked her, without thought, and been willing to humble himself for her. But not anymore. Their relationship was still on too shaky a footing for that. It probably hadn’t helped that he’d bullied her into marriage and returning to California. But he had no regrets. It was the most efficient means of getting what he wanted.
As they walked toward his sprawling, luxurious beach house, the front door opened. His executive assistant, Marnie McAdam, appeared in the doorway, her eyes eager behind her thick glasses. “You’re back—” Her expression changed when she saw Lola and the baby. “What...what’s she doing here?”
For an answer, Lola lifted her left hand in a movement so violent it was almost an obscene gesture, to show her the huge diamond ring.
Marnie’s eyes went wide as she looked between them. “You’re married?”
“Isn’t it wonderful news?” Lola said.
His assistant looked pale. A year older than Rodrigo, Marnie McAdam had been a college graduate traveling in Madrid when he’d hired her as his first employee at his new company, Cabrera Media Group, after he’d taken over his father’s small studio. Over the last fifteen years, Rodrigo had come to depend on Marnie for her dedication and loyalty. Before Lola had arrived, she’d been his top assistant.
No wonder the two women hadn’t liked each other. Marnie was the one who’d told Rodrigo about Lola’s past, telling him all the awful facts as she’d put the photographs in his hands.
And Lola knew it. She gave the older woman a hard smile.
He had the sudden alarming image of the two women coming to blows. He was fairly sure Lola, with her hard-edged fearlessness, would emerge the victor. He had no desire to see Marnie in the hospital, so he stepped abruptly between them.
“That’ll be all for today, Marnie. You can head home.”
“Whose baby?” She breathed unsteadily, looking at Jett in his arms.
“Mine,” he said.
“You didn’t know?” said Lola sweetly. “I thought you might have arranged things for us in New York.”
“No,” Rodrigo said. “She didn’t.” He looked at Marnie. “We might need some additional baby furniture, though. I’ll contact you later.”
“Of course, Mr. Cabrera.” Turning to Lola, she said, “Congratulations.”
Lola glared at her. “You heard what he said. Get going.”
Biting her lip, Marnie looked at Rodrigo.
“Thank you, Marnie,” he said, more kindly.
With a nod, she turned and hurried to her car. As the older woman drove out of the gate, Rodrigo turned on Lola coldly. “Was that really necessary?”
His wife didn’t answer. Taking the yawning baby from his arms, she strode ahead of him into the beach house, proud and scornful as a queen.
Irritated, he followed her into the house’s enormous great room, with its wall of windows overlooking the beach and bright blue ocean.
“You can’t hate Marnie for telling me the truth about your past.”
“The truth?” Lola looked at him incredulously. “Is that what you think?”
“Are you saying you didn’t pose for those pictures? You didn’t let that man—” But he couldn’t go on. Just remembering the rest of Marnie’s report still made his blood boil with unwilling jealousy and rage.
Lola’s lovely face was pale as she turned away. “I need to put Jett to bed.”
“Wait. I’m talking to you—”
“Not now.” Behind them, two bodyguards were bringing in suitcases from the SUV. Lola pointed at her suitcases. “Can you please take those to the baby’s room?”
“Baby’s room?” Tobias Watson asked, frowning.
Glancing at Rodrigo, she said coolly, “I assume there is one.”
“I told Mrs. Lee to arrange the best guest room,” he said grudgingly.
As the bodyguard nodded and started down the hall, Lola said without looking at Rodrigo, “I’ll be sleeping in there, too.”
Without another word, she collected the diaper bag and swept down the hallway, leaving Rodrigo alone in the great room with the amazing view of the Pacific.
He ground his teeth.
But he could understand why Lola was already so defensive and irritable. Part of him felt the same. Having her back here, in this house where they’d once been lovers, gave him a sense of vertigo, like an earthquake beneath his feet. Wistful memories of their love affair still lingered in every room.
Looking slowly around, Rodrigo gave an involuntary shiver. There he’d made love to her against the wall. There they’d lazed Sunday mornings on the sofa. He looked out through the double-story windows. Closing his eyes, he felt the sun burning hot and bright against his face, without the gentle mercy of clouds.
And there, on that white sand beach, one moonlit night beside the bonfire as the Santa Ana winds blew, Lola had told him she loved him. For answer, Rodrigo had taken her in his arms and kissed her hungrily, as she’d clung to him as if her life depended on it. The explosive heat of that sensual night! He shivered at the memory. They’d always been scrupulously careful about protection, but that one time, they’d been carried away by passion. Which was another way of saying they lost their minds. It was almost certainly the night she’d conceived their baby.
Turning away, he went to the wet bar and poured himself a drink. A few minutes later, when Lola returned from the baby’s nursery, he saw her before she saw him. She’d long since taken off her coat, but she still wore the same black shirt, leggings and boots she’d been married in. He suddenly yearned to take those off, too. To feel the warmth of her naked skin.
A flash of heat went through him.
He gulped the last of his Scotch, letting it burn his throat as he set down the glass with a bang. “You’re not sleeping in the nursery, Lola. I thought I made myself clear. You’re sleeping in the bedroom. With me.”
She whirled to face him, her beautiful face wild. “Forget it.”
Rodrigo took an unwilling step toward her.
“I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t forget.”
The memory of all the times he’d kissed her in this house, all the nights he’d made love to her, all their moments of laughter and lazy sensuality and joy burned through him. He had to clench his hands at his sides to keep himself from pulling her roughly into his arms.
“You forgot me long ago.” Lola looked at him in the warm pink and gold light of the late afternoon sun, her eyes bright. “I’m sure you’ve had lovers here by the score since you tossed me out.”
“Wrong,” he said.
He heard her intake of breath. “What?”
Coming forward, Rodrigo cupped her cheek.
“I’ve had no other woman here. None,” he whispered. Slowly, he ran his thumb along her tender bottom lip. “Not here, nor anywhere else. For the last year, I’ve hungered for you, Lola. Only for you.”
“I...” She breathed, trembling beneath his touch. “I can’t believe it...”
“All this time, I’ve wanted you.” Pulling her body against his own, he whispered, “And now you’re mine, I’m never going to let you go...”
His lips lowered to hers in a hard, passionate kiss. He held her body fast against his own, giving her no chance to resist. But she didn’t even try. With a soft sigh, she reached her arms up to twist around his shoulders, pulling him down against her with the same hunger.
And in that moment, the kiss that had started as a mark of possession began to explode in pure light.
* * *
Lola hadn’t realized it would be so hard to be back in this California beach house. The short months of their affair had been the happiest of her life.
Until her past had caught up with her. The most humiliating mistakes of her life. And when he’d discovered them, he’d tossed her aside as if she meant nothing.
Because she hadn’t. Rodrigo had never loved her. Not even a little.
But Lola had still been stupid enough to love him.
Returning to this house today, she’d felt memories burn through her like acid. As she’d tucked their baby into the crib of his lavish new nursery, Lola looked at the little sofa nearby and vowed to herself that she’d sleep there alone every night. But she hadn’t quite believed it, even then. Not when her traitorous body was yearning to be back in Rodrigo’s bed.
Now, as her husband kissed her, his lips seemed pure fire.
His powerful arms tightened around her in the sunlit great room of the beach house, with the wide view of the white sand and blue Pacific. His mouth was hot and rough against hers. And the thought of any path that didn’t end with them falling into bed was impossible.
So what? she thought suddenly. Sex didn’t have to mean anything. It didn’t mean love. It could be just a benefit of marriage, like filing jointly for taxes.
Lola closed her eyes in ecstasy as he pressed her against the wall, kissing slowly down her throat. She felt the heat of his lips against her skin. His hands gripped her wrists, as if to prevent her from running away.
As if she could, when this was all she wanted.
Her eyes fluttered open as he picked her up in his arms, as if she weighed nothing at all. His footsteps echoed against the red tile floors, his dark gaze unreadable as he carried her down the hallway to the enormous master bedroom.
White stucco walls surrounded the enormous bed, with its four large posters of black twisting wood, and a magnificent view.
Held in his arms, Lola looked back up at his face. The last time he’d brought her here, it had all been joy and laughter and passion. Because she’d loved him, even if he hadn’t loved her back.
Now, everything they’d once had was lost.
Or was it?
No other woman. She still couldn’t believe it. Even hating her, he had been faithful to her? That didn’t make sense. Why would he be faithful?
The hazy golden light of late afternoon poured in from the west-facing windows as he set her on the bed, in a pool of warm sunlight. His eyes were dark as he stood above her, beside the bed. Never taking his eyes off her, he loosened the cuffs of his black shirt, then the buttons.
Her heart was in her throat as she looked up at him. The golden light caressed the hard planes and curves of his powerful, muscular chest, laced with dark hair. He was even more hard-bodied than the last time they’d been lovers, making her wonder if he’d spent the past year in the gym, or perhaps a dojo or boxing ring, getting out his frustrations in that most traditionally masculine of exercise: controlled violence.
Watching him now, Lola held her breath. Then he reached for her. Slowly, he pulled off her knee-high black boots, one after the other, tossing them to the floor with a noisy skitter of leather against tile.
Climbing beside her on the bed, he leaned forward to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around the warmth of his skin, feeling the hard muscles of his back.
He lifted her arms over her head and pulled off her shirt, revealing the black lace bra that barely contained her full breasts.
His expression was savage. Lowering his head, he kissed her lips hungrily. As his mouth moved slowly down her throat, she gripped his bare shoulders, closing her eyes, letting her head fall back against the pillow. He kissed her collarbone, and then lower, as his hands cupped her breasts over the black lace. He slowly caressed down her body, to her waist, to her belly and the edge of her black leggings.
He pulled the fabric slowly down her legs. She felt the butterfly-soft stroke of his fingertips move over her thighs, to her knees and calves, all the way to the hollows of her feet. He tossed the leggings aside, leaving her spread on the bed in only her bra and panties.
He looked at her, his expression dark.
“You’re mine now, Lola,” he said in a low voice. “To do with as I please.”
She leaned up to cup his rough, angular cheek. “And you’re mine...”
Reaching up, she kissed him, softly, seductively, swirling her tongue against his. She heard his soft groan.
With a low growl, he pushed her back against the bed, covering her body with his own. Reaching behind her, he unhooked her bra with a flick of his thumb, dropping the flimsy lace to the floor.
A choking sound came from the back of his throat when he saw her full, naked breasts. He gently cupped each one in awe, before kissing the valley between them to the soft slope of her belly, flicking her belly button gently with his tongue. His hands gripped her hips as his head moved lower.
She closed her eyes, her breath coming in ragged gasps as he kissed her skin along the top edge of her black lace panties, then, soft and slow, he pulled the lace down her hips, down her thighs, and took them off entirely.
She was naked in his bed, in a golden glow of light, with the windows open and the warm salt air breezes blowing in from the ocean.
Slowly, he spread her legs apart, kneeling between them. As he lowered his head, she felt the heat of his breath between her thighs. His fingertips slowly stroked up her hips, reaching around to grasp her backside.
Closing her eyes, she held her breath as he bent to taste her.
He slowly, ruthlessly, possessed her with his lips and tongue. She gasped with the intensity of pleasure as he splayed her wide with his hands, first lapping her, then moving the tip of his tongue around her taut nub in a sensual swirl that sent her higher and higher, until her whole body panted for release, and her hips started to lift off the bed.
When he lifted his head, she looked at him, and saw his black eyes glittering with feral need. In a single movement, he pulled off his trousers and black silk boxers.
She reached up her arms to him in silent demand. He moved up, and she felt his hard shaft between her thighs.
Then, as their eyes locked, he slowly pushed himself inside her.
She gasped as he filled her, inch by delicious inch. She gripped his shoulders, feeling him deep inside her, and hard, so hard. Slowly, he pulled back to thrust again, even deeper this time. She started to tremble as pleasure drew her back in a wave so high it threatened to drown her.
He rode her harder, faster. She held her breath, feeling dizzy as joy lifted her higher and higher still. Until suddenly, as he filled her to the hilt, pleasure exploded inside her, flinging her past the sky, into the stars.