Page 20 of Modern Romance June 2025 5-8

‘Yes, Cerys.’ His low chuckle at her demands made her smile, even as he began to move faster, thrust harder.

Her sobs joined his grunts as he rolled his hips to drive deeper. Until she was clinging to his shoulders, meeting those steady, punishing thrusts to take even more.

She groaned, yearning for more, even though it felt impossible to take more. The pressure on her chest became almost as immense as the pressure between her thighs.

He clasped her buttocks to thrust into her to the hilt, to brand her as his completely. Her body gathered, tightened—reaching, rising—and soared again.

The raw pleasure—which had felt so far out of reach only minutes before—crashed over her as he shouted out his own release, and they flew over together at last.

Cerys lay in the shadowy room, floating in a cloud of bliss, only vaguely aware of the shocking emotions stirring inside her. Scary,enormousemotions. Until Santiago shifted. He was stillthere, still so large and firm inside her, the weight of his muscular body pressing her into the mattress, making her aware of every part of her which felt tender, sore—and utterly, totally alive for the first time in her life.

He eased out of her so carefully the ragged emotions consumed her. She blinked rapidly to control the tears which threatened.

How could what they had done feel so epic? When their chemistry had always been there, ever since that first morning, when he had marched into her room at thecastilloand demanded to know if she remembered him.

She frowned. How could she still not remember their first meeting, in Barcelona? When so much about him had always felt familiar. Almost as if she’d known him in another life… She strained to illuminate the hazy memories which had scared her so much yesterday, but the information remained rooted in the shadows.

Santiago rolled onto his back beside her. The deep rasps of his breathing were barely audible above the thunder of her own heartbeat.

But then the music from thecastillodrifted in on the night air, through the open window.

The Fiesta!

Panic rose like a wave at the thought of Ana, of Alejandro, of all the staff and guests who had seen them leave.Together.

What would everyone think, if they figured out what had happened?

Their lovemaking, which had been so wonderful and life-affirming and exciting in the moment, suddenly seemed shocking. She’d just had epic sex with the boss!

She shot upright, tugging the sheet with her to cover her nakedness, then spotted the torn remnants of Ana’s designer gown lying in a heap by the bed.

Shame engulfed her.

She went to scramble off the bed when a hand reached out and grasped her wrist, preventing her escape.

‘Cerys, what is wrong?’

She glanced over her shoulder. Santiago lay on his back, still gloriously naked and unashamed—and the renewed pulse of arousal blindsided her all over again.

He lifted up on an elbow, his grip remaining firm on her wrist while he searched her features with that all-consuming intensity which gave none of his feelings away, but made her sure he could see right into her soul.

Why did that feel far too revealing now?

Maybe because she didn’t really know or understand this commanding and enigmatic man at all. Any more than she understood her livewire reaction to him.

‘I’ve torn Ana’s dress,’ she blurted out, grasping for something coherent to say.

He stared at her for the longest time, then said simply, ‘Itore Ana’s dress. And I will buy her a new one.’

‘But you can’t, or she’ll know what we’ve just done…’ Cerys replied, certain that would be bad. Perhaps, if they could just pretend this hadn’t happened, everything would be okay. She wasn’t sure how she was going to control the vicious hunger still buzzing over her skin, even now, after he’d given her not one but several spectacular orgasms, but she’d have to figure it out.Later. She pulled her wrist free. And shunted to the edge of the bed to scoop up the remnants of the dress, the torn chiffon like a symbol of her fraying emotions.

‘I should get back to thecastillobefore anyone notices how long we’ve been gone,’ she began to babble. ‘If I go in through the kitchens and then just head to my room, no one will see me.’ She sat back on the bed. Where were her panties? Her shoes? ‘I can ask María in the morning for the name of a good seamstress. I’ll say I tore the dress by accident and that…’

‘Stop, Cerys.’

Arms, roped with muscle, banded around her waist. Suddenly she was surrounded by him, cocooned with her back against his chest, his thighs bracketing her hips, his feet on the floor on either side of hers, his cheek resting on her hair. She could feel his breathing, harsh and heavy, on her neck.

The shattering emotions rose up to consume her, restricting her breathing as tears scalded her eyes.

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