drew the tip of her finger into his mouth and sucked, hard.
Lust curled through her again. ‘Rico.’ The word felt as if it were poured through sand.
And then they were kissing each other, hot, hard, open-mouthed. He scooped her onto his lap and slid his hands under her jacket; she could feel the warmth of his palms against her skin through the soft cotton of her shirt. Then he tugged her shirt out of her waistband and they were skin to skin. His fingertips moved in tiny circles against her skin, arousing her further. Slowly, slowly, he moved his hands from her back to her midriff, and then upwards so he could cup her breasts. She ached for his touch.
As if he read her mind, he moved one hand so he could unbutton her shirt, then stripped her jacket and shirt off at the same time.
‘Your skin’s so soft.’ He traced the lacy edge of her bra. ‘And I need to see you.’
‘Yes.’ She wanted this as much as he did. Needed it. He might be a liar, a man she could never trust, but he made her body sing.
He unsnapped her bra with one hand, slid the straps down, then tossed the lacy garment away. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back as he kissed his way down her throat—hot, open-mouthed kisses, swirling his tongue against her skin. Her hands slid back into his hair, urging him on.
He opened his mouth over one nipple and sucked; a bolt of pure pleasure lanced through her. But it wasn’t enough. She knew he could give her more, and she wanted everything he could offer. Every touch, every caress, every taste.
When he released her, she dipped her head and kissed him.
He was shaking when he broke the kiss. ‘Ella, if we don’t stop now …’
‘If we do stop,’ she said, ‘I think I might implode.’
‘Me, too.’ His eyes were very dark, and his accent was more pronounced.
She slid off his lap and got to her feet, expecting him to lead her through to his bedroom. But, to her shock, when he stood up, he scooped her into his arms and carried her through to his bed.
‘Caveman tendencies?’
‘Absolutely. And that means I want your hair down. Spread across my pillow. While I’m buried inside you.’
Oh, God, the pictures that put in her head.
That silenced her, and he laughed. ‘Careful what you wish for, Ella bellezza.’
His smile gave her the courage to say what she was thinking. ‘Right now I wish,’ she said, ‘that you weren’t wearing quite so much.’
He set her down on her feet. ‘OK, I’m in your hands. Do what you will.’
Her hands were trembling slightly as she undid the buttons of his shirt. Then she had to deal with his tie. It had been years since she’d dated a man who wore a tie—Michael had always gone for the casual college professor look—and this one felt like silk. Designer. ‘Help?’ she asked.
He dealt with the tie and his top button, and shrugged his jacket off. ‘Better?’
‘Rico, that needs hanging up.’ His jacket had felt soft and smooth, and she’d bet it cost a small fortune.
‘I don’t care. I just need you to take the rest of my clothes off. Preferably in the next five seconds. And you can lose your skirt, first.’
She lifted her chin. ‘Bossing me about, are you?’
He spread his hands and gave her the sexiest grin she’d ever seen. ‘Just making a suggestion. Which you can choose to accept … or not.’
‘So this thing between us—it’s equal.’
‘It’s equal.’ He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘So will you just stop talking and kiss me?’
‘A request. Polite. Ish,’ she said. ‘There’s a word missing.’
He looked pained. ‘Ella. Please.’
‘Much better.’ She kissed him.
Between them, they managed to get rid of the rest of their clothes, and he took the pins out of her hair. And then he lifted her up and laid her on the huge, wide bed. The mattress was firm, but the pillows were soft and deep. She drew her hand down his side, moulding her palm to the shape of his body; in return, he traced the curve of her hip and her buttocks.
‘Your move,’ he said, his voice deepening.
She drew one finger down his sternum and smiled.
He copied her.
She slid her hand across his midriff. Rico did the same to her, then slid his hand up to brush the under curve of her breasts. Ella closed her eyes. ‘Oh, yes. More,’ she whispered.
He slid his hand between her thighs to cup her sex; she wriggled, needing him closer.
At last, he drew one fingertip along her sex, teasing her until she was near to clenching her fists with frustration; her breath escaped as he pushed one finger inside her. She tipped her head back against the pillows as his thumb found her clitoris and teased it.
‘You like that?’ he whispered.
‘Yes.’ She dragged in a breath. ‘But I want more.’
‘Me, too.’
Ella felt the mattress dip and realised he was no longer beside her. She opened her eyes. ‘Rico?’
‘Condom,’ he said, rummaging for his wallet and retrieving a foil packet. He ripped the packet open and rolled the latex over his shaft; the bed dipped again as he knelt between her thighs. And then at last he gently eased into her. He held still, letting her body adjust to the feel of his, then stole a kiss. ‘Perfect. Just how I wanted to see you, Ella bellezza,’ he said huskily. ‘Your hair spread over my pillow, and me inside you.’
Then he began to move; he took it slowly at first, stoking her desire to fever point. Then it was as if something snapped his control and he moved faster, harder, building the pressure until finally her climax splintered through her. As her body tightened round his she could feel him tense as he reached his own release.
Finally, he eased out of her, and kissed her tenderly. ‘Don’t go anywhere,’ he whispered as he headed for the en suite.
Alone in his bedroom, Ella felt awkward. They were supposed to be talking, sorting things out between them, and yet they’d ended up in bed. And she felt like a tart.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked when he came back.
She told him.
He sighed, sat on the end of the bed and took her hand. ‘First of all, you’re not a tart. I didn’t exactly have a lot of control, either. I was with you all the way. So don’t beat yourself up about it.’
‘I guess.’
He drew her hand to
