by Tessa Radley
A muscled arm slid under her back, the other under her knees. She felt her stomach lurch as he hoisted her up. “Rico!” She clutched at his shoulders. “What are you doing?”
“It must have been almost as long a time for you as for me if you need to ask that.” He raised a brow at her and headed for the stairs. “I’m taking you somewhere more comfortable.”
She slid her eyes away from his and bit her lip. By the time he reached the top of the stairs his heart drummed against her shoulder. Danielle suspected the rapid beat had more to do with anticipation than with exertion, and her own pulse quickened in response.
“I’d almost forgotten how good it feels to hold a woman. How soft you are,” Rico said breathily against the side of her throat causing another wave of shivers to ripple through her.
She nuzzled her cheek against his hair, took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come, half wishing that she was better equipped to deal with it. All too soon, he laid her on the bedcover. For an instant their eyes met. He must’ve seen something in hers that revealed how much she craved this, because he groaned, and followed her down. Then his arms were around her and his lips came down on hers.
Instantly she was transported to that swirling void where nothing mattered except the taste of Rico, the feel of his hard body against hers. None of the doubts or uncertainties that had plagued her only minutes before had a place here.
There was only heat, adrenaline…and Rico.
He eased the dress away and his hand smoothed across her bare stomach. Her muscles trembled under his touch. Intense splinters of sensation followed in the wake of his fingers. As they brushed the base of her breasts, she gasped. A moment later the last button sprang free. The dress fell away from her body, leaving her clad only in a set of matching lacy bra and briefs.
Silently Danielle thanked the fact that she always wore exquisitely feminine snowy white underwear. Then the feminine thought was forgotten as his hand cupped her breast and a spasm of desire shot through her. She squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on each movement he made, each reaction that followed, glorying in the way her body responded to his touch.
There was nothing wrong with her. She wasn’t frigid. The hurtful rumours that labelled her Ice Queen were untrue.
The realisation liberated her. She hungered to touch him, as he was touching her. She tugged at his cotton shirt, pulling it free from the waistband of his jeans. Rico lifted his upper body and, with one impatient shrug, whipped the shirt off.
Her breath caught at the sight of his bare chest with its dusting of dark hair. She lifted her fingers to trace the muscle definition of his pectorals, and he responded with a shudder that expanded the magnificent chest under her fingertips. Instantly she increased the pressure of her fingers, loving the feel of his skin, the tension that vibrated through his big body.
He sat up. She heard the rasp of his zipper, and apprehension blossomed inside her. He pushed his jeans down and kicked them away. Only a pair of black briefs remained. Her gaze rested on the betraying bulge. The apprehension escalated to a nervous anxiety. This was the point of no return. After his briefs came off there was no going back.
Before she could express her hesitation, he’d rolled back and swept her close, his lips claiming hers again. The feel of his nearly naked body against her bare skin caused shivers to ripple through her, until her teeth started to clatter from a combination of tightly leashed nerves and excitement.
He pulled back. “Cold?”
She swallowed and shook her head.
“Scared?”
“A little,” she answered honestly.
“Of me?” He lifted his hand away, his eyes troubled. “Why?”
There was no honest answer that she could give him.
Clumsily Danielle grabbed his hand and pressed his palm against her heart. “And excited, too,” she added quickly. It was true. Trepidation and anticipation warred inside her, her heartbeat quickening under the weight of his hand.
His gaze ignited. “You have no idea how that makes me feel.”
At his ragged comment, the first surge of confidence filled her. She could do this. It wasn’t going to be nearly as difficult as she’d anticipated.
His fingers slid along the upper curve of her breast, under the edge of lace. An instant later her bra gave way. Danielle arched up as he stroked her breast, a guttural sound breaking from her throat.
“I want to kiss you here.”
She nodded fervently, then tensed as his head lowered, expecting him to touch the painfully sensitive nipples. Instead, he tongued the underside of her breast, awakening undiscovered pleasure. She flung her head back and waited breathlessly for his next move. When it came, she shuddered and let out a wild keening sound.
“Oh, Rico!”
He lifted his head, his eyes smouldering. “Good?”
“Fantastic!”
She wanted to tell him not to stop, but shyness overwhelmed her. Seconds later his tongue trailed around the rosy tip and more of the unexpectedly intense pleasure shot through her.
The muscles in her abdomen contracted as she fought the wave of shivers that threatened to overtake her, the newness of it all dissolving her flesh into a substance resembling jelly. Adrenaline pounded through her, edged with nervous energy, and her heart raced.
Rico’s mouth traced down between her breasts, paused for a moment to plant a kiss over her belly button, then continued. His thumbs hooked under the sides of her panties, she felt them give. Excitement and apprehension pounded through her, and she waited for his next sensual assault.
But instead of stripping off her panties he paused, and raised his head. His fingers hovered above her belly.
She knew what he’d seen. Despairingly, she shut her eyes.
“These are from the accident, aren’t they?”
She stilled, but his fingertips mercifully failed to touch the ridged tissue. “Yes.” Her lashes lay against her cheeks, delicate crescent shaped shadows against her skin.
“I’m sorry,” he said brusquely.
“It was a long time ago.”
“But it still hurts.”
She suspected he wasn’t talking about the barely noticeable silvery lines, which were more pronounced to touch than to the eye. She thought about her mother, about her unfulfilled dreams, her longings that had died in the aftermath of the accident.
A pause. “Yes.”
He moved away.
She felt suddenly chilled. This was it. This was where he’d look at her with pity in his eyes and tell her that it was over.
“See this?”
Astonished, she stared at him. He hadn’t withdrawn, and although she couldn’t see his eyes, he didn’t sound like a man who was about to walk away. He was still here, lying full length beside her. Hope fluttered perilously within her.
“Here,” he said, pointing to his right side.
She bent over his stomach to look, her eyes lingering on the flat, muscled expanse of flesh. A mark, only a couple of inches long, marred the perfection of his smooth, tanned skin.
“You’ve got a scar, too.” But the small mark couldn’t be anywhere near as traumatic as the memories that impaired her.
“Glass. I got it the day your mother died.” The eyes that met hers were clouded. “I walked away with a couple of shards of glass in me. If your mother had been sitting where I was, that’s all she would’ve suffered.”
“Rico,” she said, shaken. “It was an accident. My mother died as a result of some drunk’s recklessness. Nothing you could’ve done would’ve prevented it.”
His hand stroked along her ribs, his touch so gentle that her throat thickened painfully.
“We switched seats, she wanted to sit in the front passenger seat. It should’ve been me that died. Instead I walked free and your mother died, Jim was severely injured and your emotional wounds affected you for years.”
It was a long time since she’d heard Jim Dembo’s name mentioned. Jim had been driving
that fateful day. He’d been injured, concussed. He’d never fully recovered from his injuries, never been able to work again.
She sighed; three lives affected by one man’s criminal carelessness. She glanced at Rico. It wasn’t only she, Jim and her mother who’d been affected. Rico, too, bore the mark of that day.
Hooking an arm around his shoulders, she said, “You feel responsible—guilty!”
He shifted his gaze, and she watched the dark tide of colour flush his skin. He remained silent. She set him at arm’s length and glared. “Now that is ridiculous. It’s not your fault.”
“Your mother died. You were trapped in that wreck for hours.” His voice grew hoarse, until he finally looked away. “Hell. For months afterwards you were as silent as a ghost.”
Memories of his gentle smiles, of how he’d gone out of his way to talk to her assailed her. And now she knew why.
Oh, no. Still holding him away, Danielle dropped her head. She’d mistaken his guilt and concern for something else, something that had made her listless, aching heart quicken at the sound of his longed-for voice.
She’d thought he’d noticed that she was growing up, becoming a woman.
All he’d been offering was compassion, a shoulder to cry on. Not love, not arms to hold her. It had been pity for a motherless girl. Pity because he had some stubborn notion that he was partly responsible for her mother’s tragic death.
She’d been a silly little fool.
But it was different now. This time he needed her. For an heir. Heck, did it really matter why he needed her? It was enough that he did. She forced her hands to relax, loosening her grip, she trailed her fingers down the inside of his elbow. “We’re talking too much.”
He gave her a sharp glance. “Should I kiss you instead?”
“Please,” she said huskily, and pulled him towards her.
His lips were gentle. And she responded like a blossom to the sun with the promise of a fruitful summer to come. Danielle sighed and lay back, barely noticing the brush of the Egyptian cotton against her back, aware only of Rico’s naked body lying against hers.
Slowly his hands resumed the long strokes over her body, fanning the flames that had subsided, until the heat built to an unbearable point. His leg glided over hers and the weight of his solid thigh made her wriggle.
“Too heavy?”
“No!” Couldn’t he understand? She wanted more. She wanted him to cover her, his whole weight plastered against her body. She tugged.
He slid over her, his skin smooth and warm against hers. Under his warm heaviness, she moaned. This was what she craved. He fitted against her like he belonged. Like she’d come home.
It was at once comforting and arousing.
She could feel his erection straining against her. Restlessly she parted her legs, and he shifted, jigsawing against her, their underwear providing the only barrier. She moved, and he butted her in response. Again she drove her hips upward, and this time he groaned in response.
“You’re killing me. Slowly but surely, you’re killing me,” he muttered against the curve of her neck.
Danielle twisted wildly against him, not sure where this was going, but comfortable that her body seemed to know what it was doing.
His mouth opened on the soft skin of her neck. Her breath stopped as wave after wave of sensation coursed across her nape. Another wriggle, and then a thrill shot through her as his lower body pressed inexorably against hers.
For a moment he pulled away, his hands smoothing down her legs. Then he was back, and for the first time his complete nakedness met her soft moistness, their briefs gone.
For a fleeting instant panic engulfed her.
What if she was making a mistake? Then a calm sense of purpose descended on her. She wanted this. She wanted Rico.
She let him nudge her thighs apart, until his length rested intimately against her. He shifted. Then his slick fingers were against her, touching her. Embarrassment shocked through her. But it gave way to heat as a sensation she’d never experienced quivered through the sensitised skin.
Hesitantly she let him have more access.
He took it. Pulses of excitement centred around her core, as she built towards some driving completion she’d never experienced. She thrashed under him, not sure what to do to reach the burning summit she sought.
“Slow down, we’ll get there.”
She shoved her hand down, curled it around him. His chest rose against her. She heard his gasp.
“Slowly! I haven’t done this in a while.” It sounded like he was gritting his teeth. Joy overwhelmed her. He did want her. She was giving him the same pleasure that streaked like silver flames through her.
Awkwardly she moved her hand up and down, felt the pressure as his hips pressed down. Delicately she bit the side of his neck, tasted the dewy salt on his skin and licked gently. His big body shuddered.
The blunt pressure increased. She felt her body give, felt him slip through the gateway. Her breath caught in surprise. He was big, stretching her tight.
Rico’s mouth closed over her parted lips, the kiss desperate and hungry.
Even as he kissed her, Rico felt her hesitation. She’d stopped those little rocking moves that had driven him wild. She seemed to be waiting.
Did she want him to hurry up? Immediately, he sank deep into her. Underneath him she jerked. Perhaps she was hotter than he realised. He sped up; she gasped under his mouth, but her hips remained still. Confusion tore at him. He pulled his head up. “Am I hurting you?”
The lake-gray eyes were uncertain, a little bewildered. No sign of her usual cool confidence. She gave her head a little shake.
He frowned.
“I’m fine. Don’t stop.”
He started to pull out of her. To try something different.
“No!” Her arms closed around him, tugging him back. “Please, don’t stop. I couldn’t bear it if you left me now.”
Rico slid home and gave a harsh groan as her knees parted and twined up around him, increasing the fit. “Oh, no. I can’t hold back anymore.”
His body went into overdrive, even as he fought for control, tried to slow down, to prolong the pleasure. But it was too late.
Burying his face against her neck, he murmured incoherently and then frantically kissed the soft skin with raw hunger. The beat of his blood roared in his ears, and he gritted his teeth as he battled to hold off the waves of gratification.
“Aah!” He squeezed his eyes shut as satisfaction claimed him in spurts of pleasure. “I’m sorry,” he choked. “Next time will be for you, I promise.”
“Next time?”
He raised his head. She was quite still under him, her eyes puzzled.
“Shouldn’t be long. You make me feel like a kid again.”
“Now?”
He stared at her, trying to put his finger on exactly what was bothering him. “Maybe not right now.” He gave a lopsided smile. “I’m not a super hero, but given the effect you have on me, I don’t doubt it will be soon.”
She smiled back—a little wavering—but a smile nonetheless. A muscle near his heart contracted. “Or I can finish you now, if you don’t want to wait?”
“Finish me?”
He frowned. Was this for real? Had no man ever given her an orgasm?
“Hey, what kind of men do you associate with?”
Caution glinted in her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Haven’t you ever…you know…” He shrugged, felt his face start to burn.
Her gaze flickered. Then her mouth firmed. “No, I’ve never…you know…”
At the stilted way she parroted his words back at him a wave of gentle affection swept over him. He’d sort that out. Teach her what being a woman was about.
More strongly she added. “This was the first time.”
The first time? Her words yanked him back. She had to be talking about orgasms, meaning that she’d never had one before. She couldn’t possibly mean…
He stare
d disbelievingly into her cool, pale face. He remembered her hesitation. The waiting, the soft butterfly touches, the clumsy hands, the shivering. Hardly the actions of an experienced woman who knew the score.
Horror engulfed him as the puzzle crystallised. It had been her first time.
Danielle Sinclair had been a virgin.
Eight
“I didn’t know.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, Rico sounded as if she’d accused him of some crime. Regret and remorse radiated from every line of his naked body. “I honestly didn’t know.”
“You couldn’t have known. I never told you,” Danielle said in her most composed voice, almost wishing she could regret what they’d shared. It would’ve made his humiliating reaction easier to cope with. But she couldn’t. In fact, she could barely wait for it to happen all over again, that tug of longing…the heat…and the splendid shimmering pleasure. She suspected there was a lot more still to discover, and she had no doubt that Rico would know exactly what to teach her.
His head shot up. “Why?”
“Why what?” She answered his question with another.
“Don’t play word games with me, damn it! Okay, so you’d found it hard to tell me something so intimate. But what I can’t understand…” He shook his head, clearly at a loss. Then, meeting her gaze, he said, “You’re how old?”
“Twenty-two,” she answered promptly.
“I know that,” he growled.
At his irritation, she fought the small smile that threatened. “But you asked.”
“It was a rhetorical question. Believe me, I know how old my wife is!”
He’d called her his wife. For the first time since he’d pulled away, her spirits lifted. She stretched, her limbs still tingled, and the sheet slipped, revealing the curve of her breast.
He glared at her. “How does a twenty-two-year-old get to stay a virgin in today’s society?”
“Is that also a rhetorical question?” she asked demurely.
“No,” he said. “This time I want an answer.”
“Lack of opportunity.”
“Lack of opportunity?” He looked flummoxed. “That’s all you can come up with?”
