“Why are you calling him a loser?” she challenged. Anything to salvage a little dignity from this man who knew too much. “Dennis is a very successful financial advisor. Works with clients in the Fortune 500—”
Rio raised her chin between his hands so she had to look at him. His expression was a mixture of disgust and…concern. He was worried about her. Too kind—too much a gentleman—to ask for details.
“Lola,” he rasped.
His eyes shone with a light so piercing she had to look away.
“Lola, when we were downstairs watching those security tapes of him, do you have any idea why I stopped them so abruptly?”
She swallowed hard. Shook her head.
“In the next few seconds, that blonde must’ve said something that provoked him, because he—Dennis Fletcher lost his cool and took a swing at her!” he said with a harsh sigh. “Did he hit you, Lola? Because if he did, so help me—”
“I—I told him if he ever—”
Oh, who was she fooling? That Eight of Swords—the “fear” card—illustrated the way she’d blindfolded herself and built her own prison, when it came to dealing with conflict.
“I knew better than to make him mad,” she murmured.
Color rose in the Spaniard’s cheeks. But instead of lecturing her, Rio exhaled. Looked at the spread again.
“Those negative influences are in your past, mi vida—passing out of your life into this.”
His finger landed on The Lovers, so ecstatically caught up in their moonlit revelry. “And I say we make it come true. Right this minute.”
“But—what about—what’re you—?”
Rio’s seductive smile gave her a rush better than nicotine or melted chocolate or cheesy pizza. “The advantage of being Chief of Security is knowing how and where to catch some private time, away from the passengers,” he whispered, his voice ripe with promise. “My favorite way to relax is with a dip in the spa’s pool, after it’s closed. Care to join me?”
A midnight swim? The sensual challenge in Rio’s tawny eyes sent her senses spinning. “That sounds wonderful. Let me get my suit, and—”
“No, no,” he murmured, teasing her with his wicked grin. “No suit. Naked is the only way to swim.”
25
The look on Aric’s face was priceless when she and Rio came out of the bedroom together. And the security agent was ready for him.
“Once again you’ve failed to provide adequate protection for Miss Wright,” he lectured. “Her balcony door was wide open! You didn’t even think to check the suite for intruders when you entered—which is crucial, since we don’t know who returned her cell phone and purse.”
Cabana Boy kept his retort to himself, although he was eyeing Rio’s unbuttoned, untucked shirt.
“Ah, no response. Which is exactly what you’ll have if Skorpio or Odette comes sniffing around,” De Silva said pointedly. “Unless, of course, you’d like me to tell the captain about this latest mistake. Don’t wait up.”
Rio took her arm, and down the hall they hurried, giggling like kids. When the elevator door closed, they kissed like teenagers at home with no parents, descending deeper into the realms of sensual pleasure.
Was falling for Rio—because he could read her cards and her needs—really any safer than letting Captain Scandalous, Kingsley, and Cabana Boy toy with her?
But they were all just escapes from the reality that Fletch had left her with, weren’t they? When the cruise ended, she’d return to Real Life alone, but with her credit and reputation intact. No harm done.
Then DeSilva pulled her hard against his bare chest. His hand spanned the back of her head as he kissed her with such passionate abandon, Lola couldn’t remember if they were going up or down. And she didn’t care, as long as those lips didn’t leave hers.
His hand closed around hers again, tight, as they hurried down the dimly lit corridor, past those ornate double doors to the Goddess Spa. It paid to play with a man who had a master key!
Like thieves in the night, they stole into the glass-domed enclosure, where the only light came from the red EXIT signs and the two spotlights under the dark aqua water. One entire side of the pool was a waterfall, which filled the solarium with a hushed, continuous whisper, like the call of the sea.
Still clinging to his fingers, Lola gazed at the beautiful pool, surrounded by shining white tile and chaises with colorful floral-print pads. This was living! Had Fletch not run off—had she not given over her week to Captain Scandalous—she would’ve come here to indulge herself in these serene, herbal-scented waters. Would’ve treated herself to Miss Christy’s massage without being humiliated by Odette’s idea of—
“You’re having doubts, Lola mia? I assure you the doors are locked. We’re totally alone.”
Lola gazed up into a face so ripe with desire, on a man so ready to wipe away her pain with his pleasure, she went blank for a moment. Couldn’t think of one single reason she wasn’t the luckiest woman in the world right now.
“I—I’ve never gone swimming in the altogether before,” she confessed.
“Then who better to introduce you to such total freedom?” he whispered. “This is an honor, indeed.”
His zipper sang a slow, sensual song as he lowered it.
“And since you were the one exposed when we enjoyed that champagne on your balcony,” he continued, “I’ll bare myself first this time. You might change your mind, and go back upstairs to Aric.”
Lola held her breath. DeSilva sounded so playful, like he couldn’t wait to be with her, even after—
“I…I thought you left Whispers this evening because that uh, dance routine might’ve turned you off to—”
“I left Whispers,” he said, his tawny eyes afire, “because I was ready to shove Skandalis out of the way, Lola mia. You were the most amazing woman I’d ever seen up there.”
Her jaw dropped. She moved her mouth to protest, but he laid a finger across her lips.
“Don’t argue with a man who’s determined to pleasure you, Lola. You deserve pleasure—and love,” he added wistfully. “You deserve the best of that, too.”
His khakis slid down his long, lean thighs and he stepped out of them. Folded them loosely over the nearest wicker chair. The Spaniard’s body was a luscious golden brown all over, and while he wasn’t overtly muscular, DeSilva had the lean, deceptive strength of a tiger when he strolled over to fetch them a couple of towels.
Smiling, enticing her to follow, Rio then walked to the edge of the pool. With his back to her, he slipped his hands down the sides of his black bikini briefs…gave her quite a nice shot of his ass as he lowered them.
He slipped something into the crotch, and playfully shot them at her like a rubber band.
Lola’s laughter echoed in the glassed enclosure, high and girlish. She was so caught up in snatching those bikinis from the air that she missed DeSilva’s dive into the pool. So clean and quiet it was, the surface barely rippled. Then he swam like a slender, golden sea lion beneath the water’s aqua surface.
When he bobbed up in front of her, grinning and tossing water back from his face, she could only stare. The ship’s security agent resembled one of those native cliff divers who searched exotic waters for pearls.
He rested his shapely arms on the edge, grinning up at her.
That slash of mustache looked even more wicked, now that it was wet. He was a very sexy bandito, about to steal her—
What? What was Rio DeSilva after, really?
She reached into his bikinis and pulled out a foil packet. And while Lola had always regarded condoms as a necessary inconvenience, this one told her exactly what he wanted. Its subtle message went beyond penetration: like his edgy smile, it bespoke possession.
“Your turn, Lola mia,” he whispered, extending his hand. “The water’s perfect. Like warm, liquid silk against my bare skin. But cool enough to feel refreshing.”
With a final glance around, Lola lowered her jeans. “You just want to see if
my Very Cherry nipples’ll stick out when I hit the water.”
“And what do you want to see, my little mermaid?”
She tossed her jeans on top of his khakis, and then her blouse. She almost left her panties on, to feel the exhilaration of him pulling them off.
Was she silly, acting this coy? After all, he’d seen her the other night…had lapped champagne from the most sensitive crevice of her body.
And that silver packet in her hand spelled everything out, didn’t it?
Rio DeSilva looked ready to swallow her whole. Lean and predatory, even though he’d made no attempt to hustle her, the way Skandalis had.
Following his example, Lola turned and mooned him a good one as she tugged her skivvies past her thighs and calves. When they ringed her ankles, she waved at him from between her parted legs.
His lips twitched. “Lola,” he said in a low growl.
She went wet without getting near the water.
That primal way he said her name unlocked a gate to some erotic frontier. While she’d gotten secret thrills from the games Captain Scandalous played, this man spoke her body’s language. This drop-dead gorgeous lover made no bones about how badly he wanted her, and how he intended to have her.
Now.
At last.
Lola walked to the steps at the shallow end. Paraded herself like some hot, tropical temptress who fully intended for the water to steam when she stepped in. She stood with one hand on her hip and the other on the silver railing, watching his reaction to her grand entry.
By the time she was knee-deep, DeSilva had slipped beneath the water, like a heat-seeking torpedo.
By the time her bush was submerged, Rio resurfaced. Shook his wet hair back and then stepped between her legs without giving her any say about it.
He moved into her—grabbing her backside—and then hoisted her high, so her hips landed against his shoulders. His moan echoed around them, and when his lips found the skin of her belly, Lola’s head fell back. Thrusting out her chest with wanton abandon, she realized he’d pulled her into the same pose as The Lovers card in her Tarot deck.
This man didn’t miss a trick.
This man was too damn good, and she needed to take him seriously.
Rio was backing deeper into the water, still nuzzling her. It felt so different, the way he kissed her there—like he couldn’t get enough of that fleshy ridge she couldn’t lose, even when she got skinny. When Fletch had touched her tummy, she sensed he was sending a message about excess flab—
Forget him, OK? her thoughts prodded.
As Rio DeSilva massaged her with his mouth, the scrape of his mustache and light stubble awakened new sensations. Something told her she was in for a lot of those—
Like being dropped! And then caught against him again, face to face.
God, he looked hungry. For her.
Lola wound her arms around his wet neck, reveling in the slick heat of his skin against hers as she kissed him deeply. He thrust his tongue between her teeth, initiating penetration…possession on the first level. He coaxed her legs around his body without breaking the kiss, and walked them through the warm water, waist high.
With every step, his erection rubbed her in just the right place. Rio stopped, long enough to undulate suggestively, while his hot mouth sought out a hotter response.
He deftly turned her in the water. Lola gasped with the loss of lip contact, grasping the edge of the pool to steady herself…to give her hips more leverage when his hands explored her inner thighs. His cock was prodding her backside, a constant reminder of what he intended to do—of how slowly and purposefully he would claim her until she lost all pretense of being Lola Wright, Independent Woman.
“Lola…Lola mia,” he murmured against her ear.
Guiding her legs so they wrapped loosely around his, he began to sidle sideways. “Do you like this, querida? I want it to be like nothing you’ve ever known before, our loving.”
Lola moaned. He was caressing her breasts now, leaving her so very open beneath the water, wondering when that cock would make its move. It felt firm and insistent, and in no huge hurry to end this playful exchange.
“Hold on.”
His hands spanned the front of her ribcage and slowly descended, pressing into her flesh to prolong his caress. When his fingers dipped below her waist to ruffle her muff, she giggled and squirmed back against him.
DeSilva groaned and rubbed more insistently. “Put the foil crimp between my teeth,” he suggested. “Let’s open that little package and play with what’s inside.”
Reaching over her shoulder with it, Lola could only stare: the white, even edge of Rio’s teeth, bared beneath his curled lip, looked so damned animal she nearly spasmed.
His eyes locked into hers and he tugged, silently suggesting she do the same. The condom was a hot hibiscus pink, and when it appeared in the opening, she plucked it from the foil.
“Now take it underwater. I’m going to thrust between your legs so we can put it on. Together.”
Again his eyes wouldn’t let her go. As though hypnotized by his novel suggestion, her hand followed his directions while her heart thudded wildly.
He slid lower behind her, his gaze shifting to the way her lips formed an O when his shaft parted her nether lips to rub firmly against her clit…out and back, as he matched the motions to his breathing.
And she was taking every breath with him, too mesmerized not to. When his hand found hers, he guided it to his tip. Closed his eyes and exhaled with slow ecstasy as their fingers worked the sheath over the warm, hard length of him. Instinct told her to hold on, to stroke it until the little ridge rested against his sac.
For a few moments he gloried in her touch, his long lashes quivering with the effort to control himself. His fingers found her needy spot then, and like a key sliding into a well-oiled lock, they entered her open hole to explore. Their writhing escalated to a dizzying height before he cupped her hard and held absolutely still.
“Do you like it when water shoots against you there?”
Lola blinked, woozy with want. “I—I have no idea.”
“Then it’s time we found out.”
Rio inched sideways along the side of the pool, letting her bob in his arms as he approached the jet where the warm water shot in. The current pulsing against her thigh made anticipation ripen inside her, just thinking about how that rolling force would feel against her pussy.
“We’ll start high,” he murmured, “to let you get used to the feel of it. If it’s too much, you can always ask for me, querida.”
The sensation of that billowing warmer water shooting against her belly made Lola’s eyes widen. She gasped, but then relaxed in Rio’s loose hug as her body grew accustomed to the whirling, tight current. It pummeled her, yet it was also a massage. And when she moved to see how it felt on different parts of her exposed body, curiosity got the better of her.
She raised up. Held her breath as the jet of water shot against her mound. God, this was like nothing else she’d ever—
When it hit her clit, she cried out.
Lola dropped down again to remove herself from that intense pressure; sucked air to regain her sanity. Rio was rubbing against her backside, breathing faster as their bodies slid in rhythm.
“Do you want me inside you?” he pleaded. “Take your time, Lola mia, and—”
She found the warm, rounded tip of him with her fingers. Letting the water bear her weight, Lola slid herself down the entire length of him in one smooth move.
Their moans rose to the domed ceiling, like those of mating wolves in the night. Rio pumped her slowly, bracing his forearms against the rim on either side of her. Lola curled against him as though they’d done this dozens of times, letting his up meet her down…positioning herself so he hit all the right spots inside her.
“God, this is so, so—”
“We could finish this way,” he rasped, “or if you want to really shoot the moon, go for that jet again. I’ll feel it,
too, while I’m inside you. We’ll—”
Her body took his dare. No other lover had ever suggested such brazen stimulation—maybe fearing it would eclipse his own power over her.
But Rio DeSilva had never been into power games. He truly pursued her pleasure before his own.
Lola inched lower, gripping him inside her, feeling his chest harden against her back as he, too, awaited the intense stimulation. The jet shot at her belly now…at the indention between her pelvic bones, just above her mound…and then Rio brought his knees up against the back of hers, bending her legs to his.
Was it like the sudden adrenaline surge of a roller coaster? Or like shooting straight up into mindless bliss? All Lola knew was that they were moving together, forward and back against that flume of water, and that such intense pleasure might make her insane.
But then, sanity had always been highly overrated, hadn’t it?
Their screams ricocheted around the glass dome above them, yet she was unaware of making any sound. Her eyes squeezed shut and her head fell back to bump against Rio’s shoulder. His stubble brushed her cheek when he grimaced, panting with the effort to control himself. The low grunt that began in his belly worked its way up into a keening cry, which sent her even higher, into a soul-shattering climax.
They collapsed against the side of the pool, away from the rush of that water jet. Rio’s head rested on her shoulder and his hands grabbed for hers on the cool tiles in front of them.
“Lola mia!” he wheezed. Only this time it was a declaration of triumph, rather than just an endearment.
“You got that right,” she rasped back.
Because no matter what happened after this cruise ended, part of her would always be Rio’s. Any man who came later would have a damn hard time topping this trick!
“If I hurt you, or if—if the jet was too intense—”
“Is there a limit to pleasure?” she queried breathlessly. “Is there such a thing as too much fun? Or too much love? Or coming too hard?”
His body shook with laughter. “Excellent questions, mi vida. And I hope you’ll want to love me again and again to find the answers.”
All Night Long Page 22
