It was her turn to gasp and quiver as his expert fingers pushed up her bra and tugged at her engorged nipples. Her back arched in a blinding wave of intolerable excitement.
‘You have the most exquisite breasts,’ he breathed, grazing her swollen lower lip with his teeth. ‘So sensitive…’
His dark head swooped and seized a rose-pink bud. Her blood pressure rocketed sky-high. She dug her hands into his hair, driven nearly mindless with the hot, drugging pleasure. She went out of control without a murmur, her heart slamming against her ribcage, every nerv
e-ending raw with sensation.
He ran a hand up the length of one slim thigh, ruthlessly wrenching her skirt out of his path. Their mouths met again in a torturously hungry mating, and she was shaking, trembling, her hips shifting upwards in a primitive rhythm, all consciousness centred and driven by the erotic brush of his fingers skating over the taut triangle of cloth still dividing her from him.
She burned and panted for breath as he tugged the briefs away and discovered the damp, hot secret of her desire. Intolerable excitement held her in its grip. Suddenly he was pushing her back, shifting over her, unexpectedly stilling when she was poised with anticipation on the furthest edge, every nerve ready to scream with frustration.
‘Don’t stop!’ she gasped.
She felt his hands, roughly impatient on her thighs, and then, with a suddenness that stole her breath away, he thrust into her hard and deeply. An ecstatic cry escaped her, wanton in the depth of need it expressed. She stretched up, kissing his throat, licking the salt from his skin, adoring him. But he pushed her back, arching over her like a primitive god, demanding absolute control, thrusting harder and faster, filling her again and again with the driving force of his manhood. The tension exploded inside her and she jerked like a doll under him, her teeth clenching, a wild, excited cry torn from her as the waves of violent pleasure engulfed her.
Lying shattered and winded in the circle of his arms, listening to the ragged edge of his breathing, she was conscious of a surge of love so intense that it hurt. She rubbed her cheek sensuously against his sweat-dampened shoulder.
‘Dios…we didn’t even get our clothes off.’ Rico stretched luxuriantly against her. ‘I planned a romantic dinner, champagne—’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Predictable.’
‘Life is not very predictable around you,’ he conceded lazily, and withdrew from her.
Belatedly she understood that pause before he’d possessed her. He had been protecting her. Birth control. She brushed a hand abstractedly over her breasts, conscious of a slight ache that was new to her experience. It had translated into an intense sensitivity when he’d touched her… She tensed, the sudden memory of a pregnant friend complaining about the soreness of her breasts flying through her head, jolting her. No, next door to impossible, she christened the fear which followed. Any day now she would know that she was all right. With determination she pushed the concern back out of her mind.
Without warning, strong hands settled beneath her as Rico scooped her up into his arms. ‘Why so serious?’ he murmured curiously.
‘Me…serious?’ Bella forced a laugh, emerald-green eyes fastening on him, cold fear burrowing up momentarily inside her. ‘I was miles away.’
‘I want you here,’ he told her, setting her down in the beautiful en suite bathroom and peeling her T-shirt off.
She reddened. ‘I can take my own clothes off.’
‘I want to take them off.’
‘You think I’m a doll or something?’
‘It’s an excuse to keep my hands on you,’ he breathed. ‘And right now I would settle for any excuse.’
Her gaze colliding with lustrous dark eyes, she stretched up and linked her hands round his strong brown throat. She felt dizzy with happiness, and generous. ‘You don’t need an excuse,’ she whispered with all the natural warmth that lay at the core of her temperament.
‘Tomorrow will come too soon. Tokyo…’ Rico murmured. ‘I’ll send Kenway in my place—just this once.’
And then he covered her mouth with erotic precision, his hands buried in her hair. It was a long time before they made it into the shower.
CHAPTER NINE
‘THEY belong to my sister. They should fit.’
Bella surveyed the riding gear with concealed amusement. ‘I could wear my jeans.’
‘You’ll feel more comfortable in these. Jeans can be very constricting,’ Rico informed her.
‘You’re planning for me to look impressive round your stables?’ She looked at him with mockery.
‘I intend to teach you how to ride.’
Of course, far be it from Rico to ask if she could already ride. He specialised in making assumptions. But then it was encouraging that he should want her to share a pastime which he obviously enjoyed. Obediently sliding into the borrowed outfit, she watched him out of the corner of her eye and wondered where the past two days had gone. Time was already slipping through her fingers like sand.