Читать книгу The Gold Collection - Ким Лоренс, Maggie Cox - Страница 27

‘LAUREN? What’s going on?’

Ramon stared down at Lauren’s paper-white face, and the purple bruises already appearing on her upper arms, then swung his gaze to the man still lounging against the lift wall. He had felt a faint sense of unease when he had watched the man follow her into the lift a few minutes ago, and had quickly taken the other lift up to the fifth floor. It seemed that his instincts had been right, he thought grimly.

Lauren shook her head, beyond speech. She was sure she had been in no real danger from Guy, but the memory of his sweaty hands on her skin as he had pawed her made her sway on her feet.

She could have no idea how vulnerable she looked at this moment, Ramon thought savagely, white-hot fury surging through him. He was startled by the strength of his need to protect her. He wanted to take her in his arms and simply hold her—let her know she was safe with him and that he would never allow anyone to harm her—but first he had to deal with the jerk in the lift.

‘Just a moment, querida,’ he said, as he gently moved Lauren to one side. ‘Let me get rid of this trash.’

‘Ramon, what are you doing?’ Lauren gasped, when Ramon grabbed Guy by the lapels of his jacket and raised his fist. ‘No! You can’t hit him. He’s drunk.’

‘And that’s his defence?’ Ramon growled. ‘He hurt you.’

Guy’s bravado had deflated like a popped balloon, and he cowered away from the furious Spaniard. ‘He was just being an idiot,’ Lauren said heavily. She still felt sick when she remembered how Guy had dragged the strap of her dress down her arm, but it was obvious he had had too much to drink. ‘Look at him; he can hardly stand up. Anyway, brawling with him will only make everything a hundred times worse.’

Ramon frowned, but reluctantly released Guy. ‘Go and sober up,’ he ordered the younger man harshly, ‘and if you value your life keep away from Miss Maitland in the future.’

Guy did not argue as he stumbled out of the lift and almost ran along the corridor. Lauren hugged her arms around herself, shivering as shock set in.

‘Here.’ Ramon slipped off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders.

The silk lining was warm, and carried the faint scent of his cologne. Lauren hugged it to her as he guided her back into the lift. ‘That was my floor,’ she muttered, her brain finally clicking into gear when the lift moved smoothly upwards. ‘Where are we going?’

‘You need a drink, and I have a bottle of brandy in my room—unless you want to go back downstairs to the bar?’ he suggested, when she looked as though she was about to argue.

Lauren shuddered at the thought of returning to the party with Ramon, knowing they would attract curious glances from the other PGH staff. But she could not risk being alone with him, she thought desperately. Not because she feared him in any way. No—it was herself, and her overwhelming awareness of him that scared the life out of her.

But when the lift halted at the top floor it was easier to follow him down the corridor than to cause a scene—especially as her legs suddenly felt as though they were about to give way beneath her. Unlike her small, functional hotel room, Ramon’s suite was large and luxurious, and she sank down onto one of the leather sofas while he crossed to the bar and poured them both a drink.

‘Here—drink this. It might bring some colour back to your face.’

She was about to remind him that she never drank alcohol, but the expression in his eyes warned her that his patience was dangerously thin, so she obediently took a sip of brandy and winced when it burned the back of her throat.

Ramon dropped down onto the sofa beside her, close enough that she was aware of the heat emanating from his body. He loosened his bow-tie and unfastened the top couple of shirt buttons to reveal several inches of olive-gold skin and a sprinkling of dark chest hairs. After one furtive glance at him, Lauren took another gulp of brandy.

‘So what was all that about?’ His eyes darkened as he inspected the bruises on her arms. ‘You should have let me hit the bastard.’

‘Guy was just being…Guy. He’s asked me out a few times in the past, and didn’t like it when I turned him down. Anyway, maybe he has a point,’ Lauren said dully, feeling another wave of sick misery wash over her when she remembered Guy’s remarks about the reason she had been given the Velaquez contract.

Ramon frowned. What do you mean?’

‘I mean that, according to Guy, everyone at PGH thinks

you picked me to work for you for other reasons than my capabilities as a lawyer,’ she said bitterly. ‘There are several other commercial property lawyers who are more qualified and experienced than me, so I suppose it’s not surprising that people believe I slept my way into the job.’

‘As a matter of fact Alistair Gambrill recommended that you would be the best person to work on my project,’ Ramon told her quietly.

The knowledge made her feel marginally better. ‘But you know what office gossip is like,’ she burst out, jumping to her feet in agitation. ‘People will have been wondering why I was chosen for the contract above more senior lawyers, and the fact that you danced with me all evening will fuel the rumours about me.’

Anger and humiliation surged up inside her, and she spun round to face Ramon, her eyes flashing fire. ‘I’ll be known as the Mata Hari of the legal world,’ she cried wildly, ‘and it’s all your fault.’ Once again he had turned her world upside down. ‘Why did you have to come back, Ramon?’

‘Because I couldn’t keep away,’ he countered harshly. He stood up, his eyes fixed intently on her, and the blazing fire in their golden depths sent an answering heat coursing through her veins. ‘I tried to forget you—but, Dios! You were always there in my mind. Even on the day of my father’s funeral I found myself thinking about you,’ he revealed grimly, his voice laced with self-disgust, because in the midst of his grief he had closed his eyes and imagined himself resting his head on Lauren’s breasts. Of course he had not wanted to be comforted by her, he told himself angrily. He had wanted sex: the physical satisfaction that for some reason was so much more intense with her than with any other woman.

She should move, Lauren told herself as Ramon strode towards her. She should run for the door and keep on running. But her feet seemed to be welded to the floor, and her heart was beating so fast that her breath came in sharp little gasps.

He was so close that she could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, and a rampant, undisguised sexual hunger that filled her with fear and shameful longing. ‘Leave me alone,’ she said shakily, putting out a hand to ward him off.

He laughed and caught hold of her, dragging her up against his hard, aroused body. ‘Oh, querida, I would if I thought for one minute you meant it. But your body gives you away—see?’ He curved his hand possessively around her breast, his smile mocking as he stroked his thumb lightly across her nipple and it instantly swelled and jutted against the sheer fabric of her dress.

Why couldn’t she feel the same disgust she had felt when Guy had touched her? Lauren asked herself despairingly. But Ramon was no clumsy, drunken boor. He was a highly skilled lover, with a wealth of experience in the art of sex. More than that, he was the man who had stolen her heart, her one love, she acknowledged silently, unable to tear her eyes from his as he slowly lowered his head.

She had expected his kiss to be hard and demanding—a demonstration of his power over her. But the gossamer-soft brush of his lips across hers was so exquisitely gentle that her defences instantly crumbled. Slow and sweet, his mouth explored hers in a sensual tasting that evoked a desperate yearning inside her for him to hold her close and never let her go. He explored the shape of her mouth with his tongue, and there was no thought in her head to resist him when he probed between her lips in a caress that was so intensely erotic that she trembled with need.

And yet she recognised the restraint he had imposed on himself. She was clinging to him, pressing her slender curves eagerly against his rock-solid body, but for some reason he held back, dampening the passion between them to a slow burn rather than allowing it to blaze into a wild firestorm.

She realised that he was giving her a choice. He would not force her into his bed. But she was ashamed to admit that she wished he would sweep her into his arms and carry her into the bedroom. She did not want to think about the implications of having sex with him. She wanted him to seduce her and make love to her with all his considerable skill, so that conscious thought was obliterated and she could lose herself in the sensual mastery of his touch.

He traced his mouth over her cheeks, her eyelids, little teasing caresses that tormented her until with a soft moan she cupped his face with her hands and brought his mouth down on hers. Parting her lips beneath his, she initiated a bold exploration with her tongue.

Ramon’s tenuous hold on his self-control shattered. ‘Is this what you want, querida?’ he growled, tightening his arms around her until she was welded to his hard frame and could be in no doubt of the urgency of his arousal, jabbing insistently between her thighs. She was his woman, and he kissed her with a fierce possessiveness, his hunger for her an unstoppable force that demanded appeasement.

Suddenly, explosively, the barriers shattered into pieces, releasing their mutual desire like molten lava flow from a volcanic heart. Lauren’s lips were swollen when Ramon finally lifted his head and trailed burning kisses down her throat, over the smooth slopes of her upper breasts. Her nipples were tight and hot, tingling in anticipation of his touch, and she gave a shiver of pleasure when he drew the straps of her dress over her shoulders, lower and lower, until her breasts spilled into his hands.

‘Your breasts were always incredibly sensitive,’ he murmured hoarsely as he rolled her nipples between his fingers, squeezing and releasing until she made a keening sound in her throat. ‘I have never wanted any woman the way I want you.’

The admission was torn from him as she tugged clumsily at his shirt buttons and ran her hands over his bare chest and abdomen, her fingers stilling when she reached the waistband of his trousers. His erection was so hard that Ramon feared he would come at any second, and with an impatient growl he reached around her, unzipped her dress, and tugged it down so that it pooled at her feet.

Tiny black lace knickers covered her femininity. He hooked his fingers in the elastic and deliberately held her gaze as he slowly drew them down her legs. ‘You want me, Lauren,’ he told her harshly, and to prove his point he slid his hand between her thighs and discovered the slick wetness of her arousal. ‘You can’t deny your need is as great as mine.’

Lauren could not deny it; she did not even attempt to try. She had missed him so much, ached for him for so many nights, that she simply did not possess the will-power to resist him. Everything seemed strangely distant—Matty, the knowledge that she could never mean anything to Ramon, her colleagues and bosses downstairs. Would it be so wrong to have this one night with him? her mind argued.

Recriminations could come later—but when Ramon dropped to his knees and parted her womanhood with gentle fingers, before closing his mouth around the sensitive nub of her clitoris, she curled her fingers in his hair and sobbed his name.

He explored her with his tongue, delving into her moist heat and stretching her a little wider with his finger to intensify her pleasure. ‘Oh, now—please now.’ Delicious little spasms were rippling through her, building quickly to a crescendo, but she wanted more.

‘Tell me what you want, querida,’ he demanded.

For a crazy second she wondered what he would say if she revealed that she wanted him to love her. But of course he never would, and at that moment nothing mattered but that he should possess her.

‘I want you…inside me.’ For a few tense seconds her confession simmered between them, and then with a muttered oath he swept her into his arms and strode into the bedroom. He dropped her onto the mattress and she watched, wide-eyed, as he stripped with violent haste, his boxers hitting the floor to reveal the powerful length of his arousal.

Lauren’s mouth ran dry, but when he pulled her to the edge of the bed, spread her legs and stood between them, her faint wariness disappeared beneath a tidal wave of excitement and desire. He swiftly donned protection, and then with slow deliberation rubbed the tip of his penis up and down the silken folds of her opening. She gasped, and instinctively bent her knees to allow him to penetrate her, closing her eyes blissfully when he filled her with his thick, iron-hard shaft.

‘I’ve missed you.’ The stark admission caused her lashes to fly open, and as she met his gaze she glimpsed a fleeting emotion that disappeared before she could define it, leaving his expression once more unfathomable. She wanted to tell him that she had missed him too, that her very soul had felt empty without him, but her words were lost beneath the pressure of his mouth as he crushed her lips in a hungry kiss at the same time as he began to move within her.

She was so tight, Ramon thought as he sank deeper into her warm velvet embrace. And her eagerness suggested that she hadn’t had sex very often during the past eighteen months. The thought filled him with a primitive satisfaction. It was time he reminded her just how good they were together. He thrust deeper and harder, setting a rhythm that soon elicited little whimpers of delight from her.

A coiling sensation was growing low in Lauren’s pelvis, tightening with every powerful thrust as Ramon drove into her again and again. The sensations he was arousing were indescribable. Her entire body was thrumming with pleasure, and when he closed his mouth around first one nipple and then its twin, sucking hard on each rosy crest, she writhed beneath him.

She stared up at him—at the bunched muscles of powerful shoulders and the beads of sweat that glistened on his chest. His face was a taut mask and she sensed that he was close to the edge. A feeling of tenderness swept over her, and the need to satisfy the frantic demands of her own body became secondary to her yearning for him to experience the pleasure of sexual release.

He gripped her hips, and she tilted her pelvis so that he could drive even deeper into her, welcoming each devastating thrust and whispering a husky plea for him to take her faster, harder. With a groan he obeyed her, the last vestiges of his restraint decimated by her fiery passion. And suddenly Lauren found that she had reached the pinnacle. She had been so intent on giving him pleasure that she was unprepared when the coiling sensation deep inside her snapped, and spasm after spasm of exquisite sensation ripped through her.

Dear heaven, it had been so long since she had experienced such intense pleasure that she had forgotten the sheer wonder of climaxing in Ramon’s arms. She squeezed her eyes shut to prevent her tears from escaping. Ramon must never know that, for her, making love with him was a beautiful and emotional experience. He did not do emotions—for him this was just sex, she accepted, as he gave one final savage thrust and groaned as his big body shook with the power of his release.

The silence in the room was broken by the sound of ragged breathing gradually slowing. Ramon felt strangely reluctant to disengage his body from Lauren’s, but after a few minutes he rolled from her and saw that she was drifting off to sleep.

‘You will be more comfortable under the covers,’ he murmured, settling them both on the pillows and drawing the sheet over them.

‘I must go back to my room,’ Lauren muttered. ‘I can’t keep awake.’

The shock of Guy Hadlow’s assault, followed by her utter capitulation to Ramon’s hungry demands had left her exhausted, and a little voice in her head taunted that it was easier to allow sleep to claim her rather than face up to what she had done.

‘I know!’

His gravelly laughter held a hint of something that sounded almost like tenderness. But she must have imagined it, Lauren told herself sleepily.

‘Stay here with me,’ he bade her firmly.

She was too weary to argue when he drew her into his arms so that her head rested on his chest. The rhythmic thud of his heart beneath her ear seemed to echo through her body, strong and steady, and she gave a sigh as her lashes drifted down.

Ramon smoothed her hair back from her face, switched off the bedside lamp, and could not hold back a satisfied smile in the darkness. Sex with Lauren was even better than he remembered. He hadn’t felt this sated in a long time. The wine bar project would keep him in England for several weeks, and then, although it would be necessary for him to return to Spain, he would keep his London apartment and visit Lauren regularly.

His life had been mapped out from birth, and he accepted the obligations and responsibilities that came with being a duque. But before he settled down to a life of duty he deserved a final fling with this woman who could send his temperature soaring with one look from her cool grey eyes.

With that settled, Ramon fell asleep.

It was still dark when Lauren stirred, but she was instantly awake. Shame, guilt, and a whole host of other emotions were storming through her when she turned her head and saw Ramon sprawled on his back beside her. His face looked softer in sleep, and the thick black lashes fanning his cheeks were a piercingly sweet reminder of Mateo.

What a fool she had been—a weak-willed fool who had allowed the sweet pull of sexual desire to drown out the voice of caution in her head, she thought bitterly. She had spent the night in Ramon’s bed, and now he would think she was willing to be his mistress again.

It would be impossible to keep Matty hidden from him, she realised, panic making her heart pound. She would have to leave PGH, leave London, take Matty away somewhere and pray that Ramon did not try to find her…

She took a shuddering breath. What on earth was she thinking? She could not uproot Matty from his home. She stared at Ramon’s beautifully sculpted face. The shadow of dark stubble on his jaw gave him a strangely vulnerable air. He was not a demon, she reminded herself. He was the man she had fallen in love with—the man who had made love to her last night with tenderness as well as passion.

When she had ended their affair he had told her he would not take her back, yet he had come to find her. Perhaps he had only come because of the fierce sexual chemistry between them, but what mattered was that he was here. She could no longer use the excuse that she did not know where to contact him. She was through with playing God. Ramon had a right to know that he had a son, and as soon as he woke she would tell him.

The sound of her mobile phone made her jump, and she quickly slid out of bed and hurried through to the sitting room, rifling through her handbag to answer it before it disturbed Ramon. She gave a faint smile when she saw that it was her mother calling. She’d warned Frances that Mateo invariably woke at dawn, and not to expect a lie-in.

‘Mum?’ She kept her voice low. ‘Has Matty been awake for long?’

‘Oh, Lauren…’ Frances’s voice shook. ‘Lauren, Matty’s not well.’

‘What do you mean—he’s not well?’ An icy hand of fear gripped Lauren’s heart. ‘What’s wrong with him?’

‘He…he settled fine when I put him in his cot last night, and he slept well. But this morning I woke up when I heard him make a funny noise. It wasn’t a cry…’ Frances’s voice wavered. ‘More a sort of choking sound.’

Dear God! Lauren gripped her phone so hard that her knuckles whitened.

‘Of course I rushed into his room,’ her mother continued. ‘And, well…he seemed to be having some kind of a fit. I called an ambulance immediately, and the medics are here now. They’re going to take him to the hospital.’

‘I’ll go straight there,’ Lauren told her mother urgently, and cut the call. Her dress and underwear were scattered on the carpet—a shameful reminder of how she had become a wanton creature in Ramon’s arms last night. But at this moment she could think of nothing but being with her sick child.

Heart pounding with fear, she dragged the dress over her head and tore out of Ramon’s suite, into the lift. Once back in her own room she changed into jeans and a jumper, snatched up her overnight bag, and minutes later was racing across the hotel’s reception area. She did not allow herself to dwell on what might be wrong with Mateo. Her brain focused exclusively on the necessity to get to the hospital as quickly as possible. Nothing and no one else mattered right now—not even Ramon. She did not spare him a thought.

She cannoned into Alistair Gambrill, who was standing on the hotel steps, holding a set of golf clubs. ‘Lauren, you’re up early.’ He frowned when he saw her tense expression. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘Matty’s ill. I have to go,’ she called over her shoulder as she flew down the steps. There was no time to stop and talk to the senior partner. Her baby was on his way to hospital, and the devil himself would not prevent her from being with him.

Ramon gunned his Porsche along the busy North London streets. It was late on Saturday afternoon, and there was a lot of traffic as he headed in the direction of Lauren’s flat.

‘Lauren left early this morning because her son is unwell.’

Alistair Gambrill’s words played over and over in his head. Her son! Lauren had a child? Dios! His brain could not take it in. Whose child? He wanted, demanded an explanation, but all day her phone had been switched off, and his anger had increased with every abortive attempt to call her.

His mind re-ran the day, from the moment he had woken at the hotel and discovered that his bed was empty. At first he had thought she was in the bathroom, but when he had found that her clothes were gone he’d felt irritated that she must have returned to her room some time during the night. But he had reminded himself that Lauren had been upset by the idea that the other lawyers at PGH were discussing her relationship with him, and he understood her reluctance to risk being seen leaving his room.

With that in mind he had eaten breakfast in his suite and visited the hotel gym. He had only later learned from a casual remark by Alistair Gambrill of Lauren’s early departure—and the astonishing reason for it.

‘You’d never believe Matty was rushed into hospital this morning,’ Lauren said for the umpteenth time, as she watched her son crawling energetically around the sitting room. ‘He looks a hundred times better than he did when I saw him on the children’s ward.’

‘He looks a lot better than you,’ her mother commented. ‘You’re still as white as a ghost.’

‘I was worried.’ Lauren grimaced at the understatement, and tears blurred her eyes. Worried came nowhere near the stark fear she had felt as she had raced to the hospital. The possibility that Mateo was seriously ill had filled her with terror, as well as guilt that she had left him with her mother while she had attended the Valentine’s Ball. ‘I shouldn’t have gone to the wretched ball last night,’ she said thickly.

‘The doctor said that febrile convulsions are fairly common in babies when they are running a high temperature,’ Frances reminded her. ‘He confirmed that Matty has a throat infection and that the antibiotics should take effect quickly. He’s going to be fine, Lauren.’

‘I know. I just keep thinking what if it had been worse? What if he’d had something life-threatening? I couldn’t bear to lose him.’ Lauren’s voice wobbled and she lifted Mateo up and hugged him to her. ‘I love him so much.’

Her legs suddenly felt weak, and she collapsed onto the sofa. She had been feeling unwell since they had brought Matty home from the hospital a few hours ago, but had put her pounding headache and aching limbs down to the aftereffects of shock. Now she had developed a sore throat, and felt shivery. It seemed likely she had caught the virulent flu virus that had been going round the PGH offices recently. That was all she needed, she thought wearily.

The doorbell pealed. ‘That’s probably my taxi,’ Frances murmured, getting to her feet. ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right if I go to Southampton tonight?’

‘Of course I will,’ Lauren assured her mother. ‘You can’t miss a world cruise—and you must go tonight if you’re to board the ship at eight tomorrow morning.’

She rested her aching head against the back of the sofa, grateful that Matty was playing contentedly with a new toy for a few minutes. She could hear voices in the hall. Maybe her mother’s taxi wasn’t here yet, and a neighbour who had seen the ambulance arrive that morning had called to ask after the baby? Footsteps sounded in the hall. She glanced towards the living room door as it opened. Her mother walked in—and then Lauren gave an audible gasp at the sight of the dark and infinitely dangerous-looking man following closely behind Frances.

Ramon! A grim-faced Ramon, whose eyes were glittering with rage. Lauren instinctively tightened her grip on Mateo and swallowed when Ramon’s gaze swung from her to her baby son.