by Kristi Gold
In the distant recesses of her consciousness, Joanna knew it would be wise to halt what he was about to do. But her mind was as weak and shaky as her body, as limp as the sash he untied with one hand as she let him have his way without even one muttered protest. She gripped the edges of the stool when he opened her robe completely, exposing her breasts. At the same time, she opened her eyes to risk a glance, discovering his mouth only inches from intimate terrain.
Joanna couldn’t begin to recognize this uninhibited woman residing beneath her skin. The old Joanna would have protested, questioned her wisdom, his intent, or at least looked away. But this newer version couldn’t resist Rio Madrid. Couldn’t keep from watching, not even after he settled his mouth between her trembling thighs. Not even after he finessed her vulnerable flesh with his clever tongue, stroked her tender breasts with his gifted fingers, continued to scrutinize her as she balanced on the brink of something she wasn’t sure she could bear.
Watching the surreal scene, watching him watching her, sent a mind-bending climax tearing through Joanna. The intense sensations made her almost pull away from Rio’s provocative torment, but she couldn’t. She could only drop her chin to her chest as she rode wave after wave, pulse after pulse of pure bliss.
Before Joanna could completely recover, Rio hauled her into his arms and framed her face in his palms, holding her in place to accept what he so willingly gave—a kiss that threatened to dissolve her where she now stood, a meeting of tongues and teeth and tastes that greatly affected her balance.
Searching for an anchor, she braced her hands on his waist. She needed to feel every part of him, every lovely inch of him, and reached between them to jerk open his fly. When he didn’t stop her, she slipped her hand inside his briefs. His hands dropped to her shoulders and he squeezed them tightly when she touched him with firm, inquisitive strokes. Just imagining him inside her made her dizzy, made her some wild, wanton creature.
After Rio groaned, Joanna anticipated he would scoop her up and carry her to his bed, yet he continued to touch her again in much the same way she now touched him, kissed her with unrestrained passion. She was completely and utterly devoid of will. A tiny pinch of apprehension tried to rear its head but Joanna pushed it out of her mind, determined to concentrate solely on her goal, to break Rio down, one touch at a time.
In response, Rio murmured a few words from his mother’s native language, phrases he knew Joanna wouldn’t understand. Sexual words. His body’s reaction needed no interpretation. He was as achingly hard as he’d ever been in his life, as desperate for her as he’d ever been for any woman.
Her smooth, solid caress overrode Rio’s resistance, drove him to the brink, sliced his good sense to shreds.
And he couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.
With his mind caught in a carnal haze and his body screaming for relief, Rio pulled her down onto the bathroom floor and kicked out of his jeans and briefs. He grabbed for a condom from the drawer and hesitated. But that hesitation—that faint glimmer of uncertainty—evaporated when Joanna released a soft beseeching sound.
Rio tore the package open with his teeth and rolled the condom on, then without formality, without the slightest pause, thrust into Joanna’s body. The extreme pleasure he felt at that moment came out in a rough sigh as he battled to hang on to his composure, at least for a while longer. Uninhibited, unrestrained, they rolled until Joanna was positioned above him, straddling him, taking the lead that he was more than glad to relinquish. He worked his hands into the damp curls spiraling at her shoulders and kept his eyes fixed firmly on hers, searching for any resistance, for any sign that he had read her wrong. He saw only the perfect portrait of a beautiful, sensual woman caught in a quest for liberation as she moved in an erotic tempo, rode him as if she intended to steal his sanity.
Determined to hold off his climax for as long as he could, Rio nudged Joanna forward with a palm on her back until he could take her pink-tipped breast into his mouth. He clasped her hips and gently pushed her down until he immersed himself completely in her inviting heat. She straightened and tilted her head back, her eyes closed, her lips trembling. Rio sensed she was on the verge of another orgasm. He wasn’t very far behind.
Beyond that point, Rio stopped thinking, stopped considering anything but the raw passion that blocked everything from his brain as a climax ripped through him, took him beyond the realm of conscious thought where nothing existed but Joanna’s own climax pulling him deeper inside her body, deeper into mindlessness.
After a time, Joanna wilted against his chest and her breath came out in ragged gasps to match his own. Rio held her tightly, reveling in the clean rain-shower scent emanating from her silky hair and soft skin, the taste of her still lingering on his tongue and lips. He experienced every brisk beat of her heart against his chest and each lingering pulsation where they were still joined. But as the sensations began to subside, awareness struck him like a fist in the face.
Joanna Blake was more than he’d ever imagined her to be as a lover, even in his most untamed dreams. Regardless of what she’d done to his body, done to his mind, it couldn’t compare to the havoc she was creating in his heart. She had set free something in him that he’d never expected, something far removed from physical gratification, and he knew in an elemental way he would never be the same from this point forward.
He also recognized that she needed more than sex. She needed a man who could love her well, day in and day out. A steady secure man who didn’t mind giving up his freedom to settle into a normal routine. He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to open himself up to the possibility of a lifelong commitment, even if Joanna was the only woman who’d ever come close to rousing those feelings within him. Feelings he was too damn afraid to acknowledge.
With so many concerns hanging over his head, Rio began to regret giving in to base urges. He admittedly enjoyed sex hot and hard and fast if the situation called for it. And yes, Joanna had willingly participated, but she hadn’t exactly asked him, at least not verbally.
But this was more than sex. More than he cared to deal with at the moment. He had to come to terms with the fact that he’d started it, something he’d sworn not to do, and he’d finished it without regard to what she needed—slow, tender, considerate lovemaking in a comfortable bed, not on a bathroom floor, especially not the first time.
Right now he had to get away from her so he could think. So he could sufficiently chastise himself for the loss of control. He didn’t like losing control.
As much as he wanted to take Joanna to his bed, to say to hell with work and make love to her all day long, he wouldn’t. Not if he intended to face the harsh reality of the situation—she deserved better than him.
Slowly Rio rolled her aside, breaking all intimate contact, leaving him feeling oddly bereft. He came to his feet and started toward the door, his limbs heavy with satisfaction, his head and heart burdened with guilt.
Without retrieving his clothes, without even a glance back, he muttered, “I’m sorry.”
Seven
Sorry?
Joanna could only stare mutely at Rio’s strong back as he left the room, left her lying naked on the floor with her mouth agape and her body still shaking from their lovemaking.
Lovemaking? Not hardly, she thought. Sex would be a more accurate description. Wicked, fast, incredible sex. Except for one thing. When Rio had slid inside her body, he’d managed to work his way further into her heart. And she hated that, hated that she’d left herself so open, so vulnerable to a man who had promised her nothing beyond a place to live and a vow that they would be lovers. Now they were lovers, and he was sorry.
Snatching her robe from the floor, Joanna shrugged it on and secured the belt at her waist so tightly she thought she might cut off the circulation from her neck to her ribs. With determined steps, she walked into his bedroom to find him stretched out on his back on the bed beneath a sheet—a black satin sheet that sheltered only his groin and left leg, leaving
his chest exposed as well as the rigid plane of his abdomen. His other leg, bent at the knee, revealed the distinct, solid muscle defining his calf and thigh, both covered in a fine veneer of dark, masculine hair.
Joanna forced her gaze to Rio’s face where he had an arm draped over his eyes, his dark hair a near match to the sleek black pillow. Even now, even though she could probably spit nails because of his sudden departure, desire shot back to life, threatening to urge her forward into his bed, into his arms to invite him back inside her body.
With all the strength she could muster, Joanna hugged her arms to her middle in order to resist him. But she refused to leave until she’d said her piece. “Do you mind explaining what that was all about?”
“You know what that was all about.” His voice sounded coarse, either from the lack of sleep or an abundance of regret.
“I’m not talking about the sex, Rio. I’m talking about you running away with nothing more than some lame apology.”
He dropped his arm from his eyes yet failed to look at anything but the ceiling. “I apologize again. I should never have allowed that to happen.”
She should never have let him into her life, much less into her heart. “You weren’t exactly alone in there. And if you’ll recall, I didn’t stop you.”
“You didn’t ask me, either.”
Frustration brought fire to Joanna’s cheeks. “Was I supposed to say, ‘Rio, take me now’? I think it was more than obvious that I wanted it to happen.”
He turned to his side to face her, his elbow bent and his palm providing support for his jaw. The sheet slipped lower, revealing a glimpse of the mat of dark hair below his navel and the jaguar. Only a microinch more, and Joanna would be able to see everything that made Rio Madrid undeniably male. Moments ago, she had gained personal, intimate knowledge of that part of him, and she’d been anything but disappointed. Her pulse sprinted with the remembrance of how glorious it had felt to have him fill her completely. She wanted to relive it again. Here. Now.
Joanna clenched her jaw, angered by her sudden lack of self-discipline. What on earth was wrong with her? She was supposed to be mad at him, furious even. She wasn’t supposed to want him, but regretfully she still did.
He settled his golden gaze on her eyes. “You deserve more than a quick roll, Joanna.”
“I deserve some honesty, Rio. Some respect.”
“It’s because I respect you that I’m feeling pretty damn guilty at the moment.” He rolled onto his back and sent one large palm slowly down his chest, bringing it to rest over the jaguar below his belly, as if he and that powerful symbol were truly one. “If I hadn’t left when I did, I ran the risk of losing control again.”
Joanna’s mood brightened somewhat, knowing that he hadn’t been disappointed by the experience. Knowing he had wanted her as much as she’d wanted him, at least from a physical standpoint. “And what exactly is wrong with losing control? Does that make you too human?”
“It makes me less of a man because I didn’t stop to consider what you need. But when I watched you bathing, touching yourself in the shower, I couldn’t think beyond what I wanted—to finally be inside you even if it meant taking you on a bathroom floor.” He released a humorless laugh. “Not one of my finer moments.”
Joanna would have to argue that, but she wouldn’t do anything to nourish his ego. “Why can’t we just chalk it up to pure animal lust?” The words sounded hollow, even to her own ears. It hadn’t been that simple, at least not for her.
Rio sent a glance her way before returning his sullen gaze back to the ceiling. “In my experience, I’ve learned that women are brave beyond all bounds, stronger than most men in many instances. They deserve to be treated with the utmost respect.” He turned his head toward her. “You’re a single mother, Joanna. You have a responsibility to your son as well as to yourself. You don’t need to be involved with someone like me.”
“Then you’re saying you’re not worthy?”
“I’m saying that I probably can’t give you what you need beyond sex. Do you really want to settle for only that?”
Joanna didn’t know what she wanted at the moment. She only knew that when she was with him, no matter what the circumstance, she experienced some sort of spiritual connection. That in itself was ill advised, something that had become painfully obvious the moment Rio had admitted that he could offer her nothing more than a little sexual satisfaction. A quick roll now and then.
Weary and exhausted, she saw no reason to continue a conversation that would get them nowhere, at least not now. She needed to go to work, fulfill her responsibilities, leave Rio to his remorse while she dealt with her own. She had to learn to accept him for who he was—a man who wanted no ties, a man very much like her ex-husband in that regard though that’s where the similarity ended. Still, she couldn’t make those same mistakes again, not when it came to her threadbare heart and her son’s welfare.
Tipping up her chin, shoring up her frame, she dropped her hands to her sides and fisted the robe in a death grip. “Now that you’ve cleared everything up, I’ll get ready for work. We can forget this ever happened.” She would never forget. Ever.
As she turned away, he caught her hand, jolting her, unnerving her, but she didn’t dare face him.
“I wish things were different, Joanna, and maybe someday you’ll understand.” His voice held a trace of sadness, of regret. “But right now, you only have to understand one thing. I can’t remember ever wanting a woman as much as I want you.” When his warm lips slid over her wrist, a flash of memory, sharp as a needle stick, bolted into Joanna’s brain—the memory of his mouth caressing her thoroughly. Every part of her.
It would be so effortless to give into those memories, to go to him and experience each one again. To accept the fact that he could give her everything she desired when it came to lovemaking, yet he couldn’t give her love.
In the silence of the room, with her hand still steadfastly wrapped in his hand, her life reluctantly meshed with his life, she secretly admitted that a part of her needed his love.
Pulling from his grasp, Joanna rushed back to her room, away from him. As she had that first night in the ballroom, she instinctively knew that she might never escape the hold he had on her, no matter how far or how fast she ran.
Rio had opted to drive to the hospital on the bike this morning in hopes that some cold air might clear his head. It hadn’t. Now in the process of making morning rounds, the mental fog cluttering his mind wouldn’t dissipate, even after two cups of espresso he’d made at home and one mudlike cup of coffee he’d managed to gulp down in the doctors’ lounge.
Exhaustion wasn’t hindering his thought processes; Joanna was. He couldn’t halt the guilt trip he seemed determined to take. He couldn’t shake what had happened between them earlier. Nor could he stop thinking he wanted it to happen again.
Right now he had to quit considering everything but his duty to his patients.
He strode down the hospital corridor running on autopilot. When he arrived at his destination, he snapped the chart from outside the door and pushed his way into the room. The woman whose baby he’d delivered only a few hours ago looked up from the bed expectantly.
Though she appeared thoroughly worn out, she managed a bright grin. “Good morning, Dr. Madrid.”
He returned a courteous smile that felt much too forced. “How are you doing, Mrs. Rutherford?”
“I’m doing great, but I’d be even better if they’d bring me my baby.”
Rio glanced at the empty crib near the bed. “Have you seen him since the delivery?”
“No, but the nurse told me that right after they had him bathed and dressed, they’d bring him right in.”
“How long ago was that?”
She glanced at the wall clock. “About two hours ago, I think. I drifted off. I do hope they bring him soon because my husband’s coming back before he has to leave for work. He’s bringing our daughter.”
Rio dropped the chart on
the bedside table and said, “I’ll be right back.”
Returning to the hallway, he dashed to the nurses’ station and found the charge nurse charting at the desk. “Sara, do you know why the Rutherford baby hasn’t been brought to his mother?”
The woman looked up and shrugged. “Sorry. I didn’t know he hadn’t been. She’s not my patient. We’ve been swamped since the shift change.”
Rio was swamped by sudden anger. But he reined in his temper knowing she didn’t warrant his frustration. “The mother is breast-feeding,” he said, taking the edge from his voice. “Mind calling the nursery to find out what’s going on?”
“Sure, Dr. Madrid. Anything else?”
“Nope, that’s it.”
Her gray eyes narrowed and she frowned. “Rough night?”
Rough morning. “Just the usual.”
She closed the chart and gave him her full attention. “Well, I hope you get some rest this weekend. We’ve got a full moon on Monday. You know what that means.”
Yeah, he knew what full moons meant. All hell breaking loose in the baby department. He thought about his mother, in part because Sara reminded him somewhat of her—kind eyes and a worldly wisdom—but anytime he considered the moon, he thought of her. She’d wholeheartedly believed in the powers of the universe, legends learned from her Mayan heritage, but most of all she believed in the infinite power of love. And she’d loved Rio’s stepfather, though God only knew why. The man had been anything but lovable.
He sent Sara a brief smile and a muttered, “Thanks,” then headed away.
An unexpected sadness settled over Rio as he walked the quiet corridor. An overwhelming feeling of loss, but he considered that it only had to do in part with his mother, and more to do with losing Joanna. That realization made him take a mental step back. You couldn’t lose something you’ve never really had, he decided. And he couldn’t have Joanna, not beyond what they had shared this morning.
