The Guardian's Virgin Ward by Caitlin Crews

Author:Caitlin Crews [Crews, Caitlin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarlequinUKLtd
Published: 2016-11-05T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

“YOU CAN’T LOCK me away on the top of a mountain forever,” Liliana informed Izar some ten days later at one of the meals he insisted they share—breakfast and dinner—every damned day.

It was a snowy, blustery morning on the other side of the massive windows, the wind visibly attacking the trees and the sides of the villa, wreathed in snow as it blew itself mad. The press and swirl of the storm made her feel claustrophobic as she speared a piece of breakfast sausage with her fork and pretended it was Izar.

Then again, maybe it was Izar who made her feel claustrophobic. She told herself that was what the sensation was—more intense than a mere itch, like a certain restlessness was attempting to worm its way out of that molten, knotted place deep in her belly.

“Can I not?” His attention on his tablet, he was sipping at what he called café semi largo, the strong espresso with a bit of milk his staff prepared for him in a small glass instead of a mug in a nod to his native Málaga. Izar read the papers fanatically, she knew now. From five different countries, every morning. “It would appear I have already done so.”

“I tell myself that though it feels like an eternity or two, it hasn’t been. Not yet.” She sighed. Perhaps theatrically, she could admit. “Eventually, even you will grow bored of this.”

She heard a smile in his voice, though there was no trace of it on his hard face. “I am known for many things, gatita. Giving up before I get exactly what I want is not one of them.”

He slid a hot, hard look her way at that, and Liliana felt it everywhere in a slide of red awareness that sizzled all over her skin and then burrowed deep beneath it, pooling around and around that knot in her gut.

She was certain he knew precisely what he did to her.

“You can stop that,” she said now, scowling at her plate instead of at him, because it was never safe to scowl at Izar. “I’ve told you a million times that what happened in my apartment—”

“Yes, yes.” He returned his attention to his tablet, though he didn’t look quite as bored as he sounded. “I am suitably chastised.”

But that was the thing. He never really was.

If Izar cared that she was going slowly insane, trapped in this house with him, he never showed it. Every morning he came to the breakfast table freshly showered after some or other athletic endeavor. Sometimes he swam in the full-size pool that took over its own separate part of the building. Sometimes he lifted astonishingly heavy weights in the adjoining exercise room. Other times he ran on the treadmill, fast and brutal and sleek, reminding her of the way he’d charged across the fútbol pitch. Liliana knew his schedule now. She knew how he ordered his mornings. She even knew that he didn’t come by his mouthwatering physique naturally, that he

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