Page 12 of The Virgin’s Dance with the Devil (The Martinelli Wedding #3)

He kissed her again, then tugged the sides of her bikini bottoms back up. She raised her bottom to help, thinking she must have done the same for him to pull them down. She had no recollection of doing that. Her only recollection was being carried on a tide of the most unimaginable pleasure.

The bottoms back in place, he smoothed her dress over her thighs. She saw his strong, tanned throat move before he lay on his back and expelled a long breath.

“Are you okay?” she asked, turning to him and tentatively placing a hand on his chest. He felt so solid. She could feel the strong beat of his heart beneath her palm.

Eyes fixed on hers, he smiled. “I’m never better than when I’m with you.”

Her heart swelling all over again, she returned the smile and, because she couldn’t not, stretched her neck to kiss him.

He sighed and gathered her to him so her cheek rested above his heart. The beats were making music with the waves of the sea lapping on the shore.

They could be the only two people in the whole world, she thought dazedly, and wrapped her arm tightly around him. There was an inexplicable bone-deep need to wrap the whole of herself around him. With barely conscious thought, she hooked her leg over his and wished she could crawl into his skin.

She heard him expel another long breath. Concerned, she lifted her head again. His eyes were closed, his features tight, as if he were concentrating hard, and suddenly she remembered that brief feel of his arousal against her abdomen .

He’d selflessly given her the greatest gift of her life without asking or expecting anything in return.

“Is it true what the boys used to say at school, that their testicles would explode if a girl refused to put out?” she asked shakily.

He laughed, a touch of pain laced with the humour. “No, that’s just what randy boys say when hoping to make a girl feel guilty.”

Her voice dropped. “So you don’t want me to…?” She couldn’t bring herself to say it.

He laughed again and speared his fingers into her hair. “You don’t owe me anything. We have all the time in the world, my angel.”

She relaxed into him, listening again to the strong beat of his heart, her own heart feeling like it was trying to burst out of her body into his.

Smoothing the flat of her hand over his chest, she thought again how different the texture of his skin was to hers, almost as if it were knitted more tightly, and as she thought this, a compulsion formed to touch lower and try to give him a little of the pleasure he’d given her.

It was a compulsion that made the air catch in her lungs and her heart thump.

Could she…? Could she really do that …?

Hardly breathing, she tentatively brushed her fingers over Rico’s skin. When she reached his belly button, his breath seemed to stop too.

Moving at a snail-like pace, her hesitant fingers slipped down the line of fine, dark hair. By the time she reached the waistband of his shorts, she was trembling again, frightened of what she was doing but more frightened of how much she wanted to do what she was doing.

She summoned all her courage and dipped her fingers beneath the waistband.

She’d barely slipped more than the tips in when he covered her hand to stop her going any further. “You don’t owe me anything,” he repeated hoarsely.

“I want to,” she whispered, and was certain he must feel the heat of her blush burning through to his heart.

After the longest time, the hand covering hers loosened.

She’d dipped her fingers only another centimetre when she met the tip of his arousal.

She sucked in a breath and swallowed, a flutter of sensation pulsing back to life between her legs.

Slowly, her hand crept down its length until she reached the base. Rico didn’t move so much as a muscle… but his arousal moved, a pulse rippling beneath the smooth, warm, hard exterior. She wrapped her fingers around it… tried to. He was so big they couldn’t go all the way round.

“Show me how,” she whispered.

He groaned lowly. “Marisa…”

“Please? I want to.”

He joined her hand beneath the lining of his shorts and gently covered it again. Guiding her, he slowly drew her clasping hand up and down his length, pressing tighter at the base where a thick vein pulsed strongly.

“Am I doing it right?” she asked in a hushed tone after he’d let go of her hand.

He mumbled something unintelligible and speared his fingers deeper in her hair.

Instinct had her tightening her hold. His groan of pleasure emboldened her. The pulse between her legs started to burn, and she quickened her strokes. His breaths quickened too. “Marisa,” he choked, “Let me go. I can’t hold it.”

But instinct acted for her again, and instead of obeying, she tightened her grip and quickened her strokes even more.

In moments, his whole body had gone rigid, the pads of his fingers digging tightly into her skull, and then he jerked and, with a groan that came from deep in his throat, spurted hot semen all over her hand.

For the longest time, neither of them moved nor said anything. Marisa had loosened her grip, but didn’t let go, feeling his erection slowly deflate. Rico’s breathing was heavy, the weighty beats of his heart a rapid thud against her ear.

Eventually, he swallowed. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Her heart sinking, she pulled her hand onto his washboard stomach and lifted herself to gaze down at him. “Did I do it wrong?”

The hand that had been buried in her hair palmed her cheek, his stare intense. “Wrong…? Marisa, that felt incredible.”

“Then why…?”

Face contorting, he closed his eyes briefly. “I don’t want you ever feeling that you have to do something.”

Her heart rose into her throat. “But I love you.” And as she spoke the words, something lightened in her heart.

Eyes flickering, his features contorted again.

She brought her face down to his. “I love you, Rico,” she repeated softly. “And I wanted to do that.”

Rico had been told by more women than he could remember that they loved him. This was the only time he’d believed it, and it took everything he had not to say the words back to her. He wanted to say them. Worse, there was a part of his rotten heart that believed it.

Unable to lie to her face, he did the next best thing and pulled her down for a kiss, losing himself in the soft passion of her mouth, and tried to forget that he was going to break this beautiful, loving woman’s heart.

He hadn’t been lying when he’d said what she’d done to him had felt incredible. What he hadn’t shared was just how incredible it had felt. A simple, inexperienced hand job that had blown his mind .

She blew his mind.

It had felt like being touched for the very first time.

When they broke apart, her face glowed with happiness. And then she smiled widely and raised the hand that had blown his mind. “I don’t suppose you could pass me one of those napkins, could you?”

The laughter that burst out of him was a welcome relief after the intensity of what they’d just shared, and he kissed her again, hard and demanding. “For you, I would do anything.”

And in that moment, he even believed it.