‘Are you going to lecture me,’ she challenged huskily, ‘or kiss me?’
* * *
Ramon slid his mouth over Emily’s and drank in her sweet taste like a man savouring his first sip of water after days trapped in a merciless desert.
Except his deprivation and thirst had lasted for weeks, not days, and this last week had proven by far the most torturous.
Four nights of sleeping in her spare room. Four nights of doing the right thing. Four nights of struggling to dampen the hot embers of desire that constantly threatened to burst into flame and incinerate his restraint, along with his questionable attempts at chivalry.
And the mornings... The mornings were their own special brand of hell. Each time she was sick, a gut-wrenching combination of powerlessness and disgust tore at him. Self-disgust because, even as he carried her back to bed after a bout of illness, his body stirred with an untimely lust he had no ability to switch off.
Last night in Paris had offered no reprieve. And not only because of the constant, gnawing concern about her welfare that he knew in some part of his brain was irrational and extreme. He’d stayed in the same suite they’d shared seven weeks before and realised too late his mistake. Every inch of the place, from the living room, to the bed, to the shower, had teased hot, erotic images from his memory until desire had pounded through him so relentlessly he’d had to rely on his hand to achieve a degree of release.
Flying back today, he’d been as grimly and ruthlessly determined as ever to keep his lust banked and his hands to himself—and then he’d walked in and found her standing in her underwear in the kitchen, with her glorious mane of hair flowing loose over her shoulders and her finger in her mouth like some provocative magazine centrefold.
God forgive him.
He was only human.
Her hands in his hair, her soft body moulded to his, she moaned against his lips, a low, needy sound that ramped up the heat in his body and assured him that she was a willing, enthusiastic participant. Reluctantly, he dragged his mouth from hers. If he didn’t press pause he’d end up taking her right there against the kitchen bench, or on the floor. He gathered her into his arms, strode from the kitchen and halted in the hallway.
Intuiting his quandary, she whispered in his ear. ‘My room.’
Seconds later he lowered her onto her bed and ripped off her scant attire in between pressing hot, urgent kisses to her mouth and throat. When he had her completely naked, he groaned. Her creamy skin was smooth and flawless, her breasts as perfect as he remembered, perhaps even a little fuller. He drew one of her rosy nipples into his mouth and she arched up, drove her hands into his hair and encouraged him with little mewls of delight that intensified the throb of his desire.
She tugged at his shirt, her fingers fumbling with a button. ‘Not fair,’ she panted. ‘I’m the only one naked.’
To which he gave a low chuckle, reluctantly left her side and quickly dispensed with his clothing. Naked, he returned, straddling her legs so he could admire the view while tracing the curves of her body with his hands.
Her stomach was flat, no sign of the life growing inside her evident as yet. But knowing it was there—knowing they’d created it together—flooded him with a fierce sense of possessiveness far more potent than any fear he’d wrestled with in recent days.
The child inside her was his.
She was his.
He leaned over and kissed Emily’s stomach, glancing up as she lifted her head. Their gazes locked and it seemed in those few seconds, with only the sounds of their breathing and the drum of his heartbeat filling his ears, as if something unspoken and powerful passed between them. He dragged his gaze from hers before the strange pressure in his chest could intensify, then went lower, down to the sweet, feminine centre of her body. Gently, he parted her and found her wet and swollen. He slipped his finger inside her, loving the way she
panted and writhed.
‘Come for me, mi belleza,’ he commanded, then licked once, and she climaxed almost immediately.
‘Ramon!’
Gasping his name, she dove her fingers into his hair, gripping his scalp as he sucked and licked, extending her orgasm until her keen cries of pleasure became soft whimpers and her whole body went limp. He rose up between her legs, his body taut with tension, his muscles trembling from the effort required to contain his need. He was afraid that, if he plunged into her now, he’d lose control and take her too hard and fast. Dios. Was it possible to hurt the baby?
He rolled onto his back and took her with him so that she sat astride him. Grasping her hips, he positioned her above his erection. This way she’d have control. She seemed to understand because she reached down, wrapped her fingers around his aching shaft and guided the tip to her entrance. For a second he tensed, automatically thinking, Condom, then realised they didn’t need one. He closed his eyes and couldn’t stop a rough cry ripping from his throat as she sank onto him, encasing him in a sheath of silken heat.
Teeth gritted, he kept his pelvis as still as possible, allowing Emily to set the pace and decide how deep to take him. She began to move, her tight, wet heat sliding up and down his shaft, and Ramon’s consciousness narrowed until there was nothing but her sitting atop him, her face contorted with pleasure as she wantonly rode him.
Nothing else filled his head.
No concerns.
No fears.
Just their stunning, mind-blowing chemistry and the shattering pinnacle of a climax more powerful than any he’d ever experienced.
* * *