Читать книгу Australian Affairs: Tempted: Tempted by Dr. Morales - Carol Marinelli - Страница 19

JUAN KEPT A very neat kitchen. All evidence was removed—he even tied up her halterneck for her—and then he parked Cate on a bar stool and threw her expensive knickers in the bin. He handed a glass of wine to her.

‘Better?’ Juan said.

‘Better.’

She couldn’t believe it. Five minutes in his house and she’d had the best orgasm she had ever had. She felt a little stunned, a little breathless but enjoying the view. She was sipping her wine as if it was normal to watch him cook and see the scratches on his back that had come from her.

‘Can I help?’ Cate offered, because wasn’t that what you were supposed to say?

‘Relax,’ was Juan’s response.

It was bizarre that, for the first time around him, she could relax properly.

Juan picked up the knife that had sliced her panties and with a smile that was returned he carried on chopping the salad.

He could chop too.

Fast, tiny, thin slices.

‘You’ve done that before.’

‘I helped in the family business,’ Juan said. ‘After school and during medical school. My family have a…’ he hesitated for a moment, perhaps choosing the right word ‘…café.’ He moved and took the fish steaks out of the fridge and she heard the sizzle as they were added to the pan.

‘They smell fantastic,’ Cate said. ‘What was the marinade?’

‘Chimichurri,’ Juan said. ‘It is Argentinian. There are many variations but this is my mother’s recipe that I make for you tonight.’

It was soon ready and they took the food outside to the table that had been laid. There was even a candle and, as she took the seat looking out to the ocean, Cate blinked a little when he put a plate in front of her. It looked amazing.

‘You can cook too!’

‘You haven’t tasted it yet.’

‘Ah, but it’s all in the presentation.’

‘No.’ Juan smiled as he sat opposite her. ‘It is no good to look beautiful and taste of nothing, or, worse, when you do bite into it, to find out it is off.’

‘Well, it’s a treat to have someone cook for me,’ Cate said. ‘It’s beans on toast more often than not at mine.’

Cate loaded her fork. Of course she was going to say it was lovely, of course she would be polite, she meant what she had said, it was nice to be cooked for, but, more than that, it could taste like cardboard and the night would still be divine.

‘Oh!’ She forgot her manners completely, spoke with her mouth still full as she took her first taste. ‘It’s amazing.’

It was. The fish was mild and so fresh it might just as well have jumped out of the ocean and landed on her plate, yet the marinade…Cate was not particularly into food unless it was called ice cream, but there was a riot happening on her tongue.

‘It is very fresh…’ Juan took a bite ‘…and my mother’s chimichurri is the best.’

‘I think I’m having another orgasm,’ Cate said.

‘Oh, you will later,’ Juan said. ‘And you won’t think, you’ll know.’

But there was only so much you could say about fish and, with sex out of the way, conversation turned a touch awkward at first. They knew little about each other, and it was supposed to be that way, Cate told herself, but she couldn’t help asking about his homeland when he spoke briefly about it.

‘Do you miss it?’

‘No,’ Juan admitted. ‘I speak to my family a lot and to my friends, of course.’

‘What made you decide to travel?’

‘The woman who rings…’ There was a tight swallow in Cate’s throat as she found out a little about the man. ‘Martina. We were engaged but it didn’t work out. I think when any relationship ends you start to question things,’ Juan said. ‘Don’t you?’

‘I guess.’ Cate took a swallow of her wine.

‘Did you?’ Juan pushed, when normally he didn’t. Normally he didn’t want to know more, but with Cate he did.

‘A bit.’ Cate gave a slightly nervous lick of her lips and put down her knife and fork. ‘That really was delicious.’ She tried to change the subject, but Juan pushed on.

‘Really, my parents were never pushy with my education. They thought I would join them in the family business but I wanted to do medicine, so I spent a lot of time studying as well as working part time for them. I never really took some time to do other things I wanted.’ He gave a small shrug. ‘Now seemed like a good idea. I think it is good to step back. It is very easy to get caught up in the rat race…’

Cate shook her head. ‘I don’t see it as a rat race. I have no desire to step off.’

‘None?’

Cate took a deep breath, felt the bubble of disquiet she regularly quashed rise to the surface. ‘I’m not sure that I’m happy at work.’ She looked at his grey unblinking eyes. ‘I’m not unhappy, but sometimes…’ Her voice trailed off and Juan filled the silence.

‘Is that why you considered being a paramedic?’

Cate nodded. ‘But it’s not for me.’

‘What is for you?’

‘I’m working that out,’ Cate admitted. ‘Don’t you miss anaesthesia?’

‘No,’ Juan admitted. ‘I expected that I would and I admit I enjoyed looking after Jason the other day, but I don’t miss it as much as I thought I might. I had a lot of ego,’ Juan said, then halted, not wanting to go there. ‘I like Emergency, that was where I started, then I did anaesthesia and was invited to a senior role. I enjoyed it, but being back in Emergency I realise how I enjoy that too.’

‘And your fiancée?’

‘Ex.’

‘Who still calls regularly.’

Juan grinned. ‘She misses me, can you blame her?’

‘Did it end suddenly?’ Cate knew she was teetering outside the strange rules of a non-relationship—it was just that she wanted to know more about him.

‘Yes.’

‘Were you…?’ Cate’s voice trailed off.

‘I can’t answer a question if you don’t ask it.’

‘Were you cheating?’

‘No,’ Juan said. ‘I took our engagement seriously. It was ended by mutual agreement—now it would seem that she has some regrets.’

Cate looked at him, looked at that full mouth, slightly taut now, saw a flicker of pain in his eyes. He wasn’t over her, Cate knew it.

And Martina wasn’t over him, Cate could guarantee that. Imagine having that heart and losing it?

‘All I’ve learnt is that nothing lasts for ever,’ Juan said. ‘So enjoy what you have now, live in the moment…’

‘Well, that’s where we’re different,’ Cate said, hoping that he’d leave things there, but Juan did not. His hand reached across the table and took her tense one.

‘Why so cautious?’

She looked up, looked at him, and he saw the tiny creases form beside her eyes.

‘We’re just talking,’ Juan said lightly, but he wanted to know more.

‘Having three brothers makes you so…’ She attempted to sound dismissive but it was an impossible task. ‘All my brothers were quite wild, but my middle brother decided to steal a car with his girlfriend when he was eighteen,’ Cate said. ‘I was nine. He nearly killed his girlfriend—I just remember the chaos, the hospital, the court cases, what it did to Mum and Dad…“Thank God for Cate,” Mum and Dad always said. I never caused them a moment’s worry, I guess it became who I thought I was…’ She looked back up. ‘Now I’m trying to find out who I am. So, yes…’ She gave a tight smile. ‘I guess the end of a relationship makes you examine things.’

She was trying not to examine things a little later as they headed to his bedroom and she saw that huge white bed. She was trying to live in the now—except she knew she would remember and miss him for ever.

He undressed her and she was more nervous than when she’d arrived at his door as he took off his boots, as he kicked them to the floor, because a night in his arms was simply not enough.

He pulled her to the bed.

‘You’re shaking?’

‘I…’ She didn’t know what to say. In Juan’s world the bedroom wasn’t the place to tell him you had the terrifying feeling that you loved him. ‘The air-conditioning,’ Cate said, and she lay there as he went to turn it down, lay in his bed and replayed his words, told herself she could just enjoy what they had now.

As he climbed into bed and started to kiss her, at first her response was tentative. It was too late to be chaste, Cate told herself, and, yes, there was the heaven of his touch.

She felt the skin of his back beneath her fingers, felt the strength of his arms pulling her closer, and she was a mire of contrary feelings, because she wanted this and yet she was scared to give in. His tongue was as necessary as water to her mouth, his scent embedded in her head for ever and his touch almost more than her heart could handle. Her hands moved over his shoulder, to his neck and then her fingers paused, felt the ridge at the back of his neck. Then Juan’s hands were there, moving hers away.

Again.

Her eyes opened to him and they stared for a moment, still kissing, but a part of him was out of bounds and he felt her withdraw, knew that tonight was about to end, and he didn’t want it to, so Juan moved to save it.

Cate felt the shift in him. It was more than physical—he dragged her back to him, not with passion but with self; he just brought her back to him with his mouth.

He kissed down her neck and to her breasts and Juan lost himself for a moment, just lingered. He wanted her hot beneath him, he wanted them both sated, or he usually did, but tonight he let himself pause. He tasted her skin and licked and caressed with his mouth and then moved down.

She could feel the scratch of his unshaven jaw, such a contrast to the warm wetness of his mouth.

‘I’ll be sitting on ice tomorrow.’

It was her last feeble attempt at a joke, because she felt like crying from the bliss. His mouth, his touch, was slow but not measured. There was no blueprint—he followed her gasps and breaths, guided by them. It was more than sex. Her hands went to his head to halt him, scared to hand herself over, and then she felt his tongue’s soft probe and heard the moans from him—and she gave in to being adored.

Juan hadn’t done this in a long time; he hadn’t been so enchanted ever. He buried his tongue in warm folds and she gave in to his intimate caress. Cate wanted him to stop, because she could feel herself building, in a way she never had. She wanted the trip of orgasm, a textbook pleasing, not the new feeling of delayed urgency he stoked.

‘Stay still.’ He wasn’t subtle, he held her legs wider open and she looked down at him. Every stroke of his tongue was dictated by her response and when she sobbed he went in more firmly; when she arched, his mouth held her down. He tasted her, he ravished her.

He adored her.

Why, she was almost begging as his mouth took her more fervently. Why did he have to take all of her? Why did he have to show her how good things could be? She was coming and fighting it; she was loving it and scared of it, scared of loving him.

Juan held her in his mouth and he just about came himself as he felt her throb and finally still.

‘Cate.’ He said her name as he slid up her body. He did not allow her time to calm; he had taken her rapidly once and she sobbed now as he took her slowly. It was torture to be locked with him, to be consumed by him, to gather speed together with each building thrust.

Cate arched into him, her orgasm a race down her spine and along her thighs. The powerful thrusts of him had her dizzy, the feel of his final swell that beckoned his end was like a tattoo being etched in her mind. And then he collapsed on top of her; incoherent thoughts were voiced. It was a moment she would never forget.

‘We could have had three months!’ Breathless, Juan berated the time lost to them.

Breathless, Cate thanked God she had waited, because she couldn’t have given him months of this with the end looming.

She was beyond confused; his bed was no place to examine her true feelings, because she was only here for one night, except both knew they had just gone too far.

They both lay, pretending to be asleep, until finally they were—but it was an uneasy sleep, a difficult sleep. Cate didn’t want to get too close to the man who lay beside her and Juan, with a mind that raced through the dark hours, chose not to hold onto her throughout the night.

Juan woke at two.

He always did.

He moved his legs, just a little, he moved his hands and then remembered Cate’s hands on his neck and the look they had shared. He wondered if she might guess.

Asleep, she rolled into him and after a moment he put his arm around her; the luxury of that she could not know. He allowed himself the bliss of contact as he faced tomorrow—the anniversary of the wedding that hadn’t happened was the day he had dreaded the most.

He dreaded another day now, one week on Tuesday when he left Australia. It was already drawing eerily close.