Page 11 of The Virgin’s Dance with the Devil (The Martinelli Wedding #3)

Chapter Six

Cocktails and food ordered, they grabbed some towels and chose the same Bali bed closest to the sea. As they were spreading the towels out, Marisa caught sight of the mammoth yacht sailing past their cove, close enough for her to see figures on it.

“Is that your father’s yacht?” she asked.

Rico narrowed his eyes to see more clearly, then broke into a grin. “It is. They won’t be back for hours.”

“They picked the right day for it,” she murmured as equal amounts of excitement and terror shot through her veins at how very isolated they were. Those feelings ramped up when Rico nonchalantly stripped off his t-shirt; ramped up and thickened her blood.

His body was incredible, smooth and muscular, the only hair on his torso running in a line beneath his navel to…

For a moment, she felt all giddy.

Climbing onto the bed, he stretched himself out and patted the space beside him with a smile that made her bones melt enough for her to want to bolt .

As if sensing her fear, he smiled and gently said, “Remember, my angel, I don’t bite.”

She couldn’t move her mouth to quip about him only biting if she wanted him to.

There was a growing part of her that wanted him to bite.

Making no effort to remove her sundress, her heart a loud drum in her ears, she got onto the bed and hugged her knees.

Their lunch arrived. This time, she barely managed half of what she’d eaten the day before. Rico had no such problem, devouring her leftovers as he eyed her speculatively.

After putting their plates on his side table, he lay himself onto his side facing her. “You look frightened.”

She pulled a tight smile and hugged her knees even tighter.

She jolted when he stroked a finger over her shoulder just below the spaghetti strap of her dress. “You know I would never hurt you, don’t you?”

How she longed to believe that.

Instinct told her she had nothing to fear physically from him, but it wasn’t physical fear tying her up in knots. It was everything else. The only thing stopping her from running away was the tied-back drapes. If he’d drawn them, she’d probably be back in Tuscany by now.

“You need to relax,” he said, pressing his mouth to the patch of skin his finger had just stroked. “Lie down with me.”

If Rico had thought divine intervention had won Marisa to him, the tension radiating from her told him a different story. When she finally lay down and he drew her stiff yet trembling body into his arms, he experienced a wave of tenderness of a kind he’d never have believed himself capable.

She was a twenty-five-year-old woman who’d only been kissed by two men, one of whom was himself. She’d done nothing more than kiss.

Her face was buried in his neck, but he could feel no breath coming from her mouth. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, her legs straight and unyielding against his. The hand pressing lightly against his back was a balled fist.

“Relax,” he murmured. “I just want to hold you.”

After a long moment, she turned her face a little and took a sharp, ragged breath.

He trailed his fingers lightly down her spine and felt her shiver.

The balled fingers slowly unfurled and timidly pressed against his skin, and now a shiver trailed up his spine.

He gently tiptoed his fingers up to her neck and threaded them through her silky hair. Heard her take another ragged breath.

Strangely, he was finding it hard to breathe too.

Her hand pressed deeper into his back and moved a little upwards before the pads gripped tighter, as if she were stopping herself.

“You can touch me,” he whispered. “Touch me wherever you like.”

Time hung suspended before her delicate fingers began a slow, tentative exploration of his lower back. Thrills of sensation threaded through his veins. When she found the waist band of his swim shorts, he closed his eyes and sucked in a breath.

Her fingers went no lower, but slowly, her rigid form relaxed, and when she drew her head back from his neck to gaze at him with glazed eyes, her body moved slightly too, allowing the ridge of his arousal to press into her abdomen. She froze, fear drawing a line in her forehead.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said softly, pulling his fingers from her hair to cover her cheek and bringing his mouth to hers. “I will never do anything you don’t want.”

Lips fusing, he breathed her sweet taste into his lungs, kissing her with the same lazy restraint he’d kissed her with before. His heart thumping, he gently parted her trembling lips and slid his tongue into the sweet, sweet depths. The stroke of her tongue against his was electrifying.

With the thrills of their fused mouths coursing through him, Rico skimmed his fingers down the side of her neck and the length of her arm, threaded their fingers, and slowly rolled her onto her back.

As much as he ached to position himself between her legs, he knew to do so would frighten her.

Instead, he stayed to the side of her and trailed tiny kisses over her face, slowly stroking back up her arm.

He put his mouth back to hers as he allowed himself the first tentative touch of her breast. She gave a short, shocked gasp into his mouth and stilled.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, brushing his lips over her cheek to the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “I won’t hurt you. Any time you want me to stop, all you have to do is say.”

Her breath this time was long and ragged.

He kissed her again, and when her tongue danced against his, he gently took the weight of her breast in his palm.

It was fuller than he’d expected, the nipple hard, and though he throbbed with need to feel it without the barrier of her black cotton dress and the bikini she wore beneath it, he could smell the fear tingeing her desire, sensed one false move would have her running back to the hotel.

Making sure not to crush her, giving her the room to push him away if she wanted, he skimmed further down, over her gently curved hip. It wasn’t just Marisa’s mouth that was trembling; her whole body was shaking.

Further down he skimmed, down her thigh, felt her jolt as his hand met silky smooth skin. Slipping his fingers beneath the cotton of her dress, he trailed upwards, slowly making his way to the heart of her femininity .

She was trembling harder than ever.

He lifted his head to look at her. She was breathing heavily, her beautiful face flushed. There was a wildness in her stare he’d never seen before. “I’m just going to touch you,” he murmured. “Nothing more. Don’t be afraid. I promise it will feel good.”

Eyes locked on his, her throat moved.

He tiptoed higher, closer and closer to her heat.

“Trust me, my angel,” he breathed, before capturing her mouth in another kiss.

He cupped her pubis lightly. Felt her jerk. But she didn’t push him away.

Working slowly, he pulled her bikini bottoms down to her thighs, then gently cupped her again without the barrier and for a moment needed to grit his teeth to temper a thrilling surge of lust. Her complete inexperience meant he should have expected the soft, downy hair between her legs, but he hadn’t, and finding it was like discovering sex for the very first time.

Finding her soaked and swollen with desire…

Keeping his control had never been more important. He’d never had to fight so hard to hold onto it.

He bowed his head to kiss her neck and gently rubbed her swollen nub.

Her low, hitched moan flooded straight into his loins.

Other than the tremors racking her, she didn’t move, letting him pleasure her, her deepening breaths the only real clue as to how much pleasure she was getting.

He didn’t think he had ever been so turned on.

Keeping his palm pressed against her nub, he slipped a finger inside her sticky heat.

She jerked again, her thighs clamping together.

“Do you want me to stop?” he whispered, lifting his head again .

Her eyes flew open and locked back onto his. Plump lips parted, she made the smallest shake of her head.

“Then open yourself for me, angel.”

Gazing deep into his eyes, her throat moved again before she cupped the back of his head and parted her thighs.

He slipped another finger into the sticky velvet. Her eyes pulsed. God, if she were to touch him now, he would come on the spot.

He’d never felt such urgency before, but he tempered it, gentle strokes of his fingers inside her virgin heat while keeping the pressure on her nub, all the while gazing into wide eyes that had melted with her desire.

He sensed from the quickening of her breaths and the way she slowly began to writhe against him that her peak was coming, but he refused to hurry it, as enthralled with her reactions as he’d ever been about anything, and when her neck arched and she tightened and contracted around his fingers with one long, almost surprised, “ohhhh,” he thought he’d never seen or felt anything as beautiful in the whole of his life.

Marisa felt like she was floating. Tingles of bliss saturated her, her heart a dull, distant roar.

The only thing keeping her anchored to the world was Rico, the man who’d just lifted her off it.

For the longest time, she gazed into his piercing blue eyes pulsing with an emotion that made her feel as if she were made of the most precious jewels.

He lowered his head to kiss her and moved his hand from the place not even her own hand had been before. Not like that.

“Are you okay?” he asked huskily.

She attempted a smile. “I don’t know.”

Rico had rocked the foundations of her world from the moment he’d taken her in his arms on the dancefloor all those months ago, and now it felt like he’d turned the whole world of her upside down.

“Your first orgasm?”

Cheeks burning at how gauche she must seem to him, she gave the tiniest of nods.