Page 6 of The Virgin’s Dance with the Devil (The Martinelli Wedding #3)

With the barman saying he’d bring their drinks to them, Rico grabbed an armful of towels and led the way to one of the free Bali beds. Marisa pretended not to notice the couple who’d braved the cold of the sea and were waist-deep in it, eating each other’ s faces off.

The Bali bed he chose was at the front of the beach, and he laid the towels on it, side by side.

“Did you want to take a dip?” he asked after throwing himself onto the left side and hooking his arms behind his head.

She shook her head quickly. No way was she stripping down to her bikini in front of him. She felt self-conscious enough with what she was wearing.

Perching herself on the edge of the right-hand side, she put her beach bag on her lap, keeping her feet on the sand and her gaze fixed on a yacht bobbing in the distance. “Where are all the individual sun loungers?”

“There aren’t any. This cove is only for adults.”

“That doesn’t explain why there’s no individual sun loungers.”

She heard his soft chuckle. “It’s an unwritten rule that this cove is for lovers. That’s why each Bali bed has a bell – when the drapes are closed, the bar staff know not to approach unless the bell is rung.”

She jumped straight to her feet, held her beach bag to her chest, and faced him accusingly. “Then I shall go back.”

“We can go back if you want, but this is the perfect place for us to hang out together. Look around you – the other couples here have closed their drapes.”

“We’re not a couple.”

How adorable she looked when her cheeks went so scarlet, Rico mused. “But we have a friendship you want to keep private. There is another beach we can access, but it’s much busier than this one. Here, we have privacy to spend time together without you worrying about who’s going to spot us.”

Rico could have kissed the barman for choosing that moment to bring their cocktails to them.

Marisa took hers with whispered thanks, then, when he’d gone, perched herself back on the edge of the bed and took a long sip.

“Okay,” she said, not looking at him. “I’ll stay for a little while, but we keep the drapes open. ”

He patted the space beside him. “Then stretch yourself out and relax. I don’t bite.”

She turned her head to him and smiled wryly. “Unless I want you to, I know.”

He grinned. “Any time you want me to, just say the word.”

“If you’re going to make comments like that, I’m going,” she threatened, but the light that had returned to her eye negated it.

He laughed. “I’ll try to behave.”

“Good.”

He patted the space again.

Eyes narrowed with suspicious bemusement, she chucked her beach bag at his belly without spilling a drop of her cocktail.

Laughing even harder, he rolled onto his side and cuddled the bag that was heavier than it looked while she swung her golden legs onto the bed and propped herself against the headrest, hooking her ankles together.

Rico laughed again, just for the hell of it.

He was lying on a Bali bed under blue skies, shrouded in a warmth that felt more like summer than spring, had a cocktail on the small carved side table beside him and the most beautiful woman in Italy as his company.

In that moment, life felt fantastic, and he could forget the growing headache of Niccolo’s English lover.

When there were further developments, his team would call him.

Only then would he decide what needed to be done.

For all her bookish good-girl ways, Marisa was fun to be around. Being with her filled him with an energy that zinged in every cell of his body.

“What books did you bring with you?” she asked after taking another long sip of her cocktail.

He made sure to pitch his voice as regretful. “I was in such a rush to get here and see you that I forgot.”

Her answering, “Idiot,” was good-natured. Then her eyes lit up, and she put her cocktail down on her side table. “Give me my bag.”

“Only if you let me cuddle you instead.”

She pulled an unimpressed face and held her hand out. “Give.”

He sighed. “Okay, okay,” and passed it to her.

She put it on her lap and rummaged through it before pulling out a thick, dog-eared paperback. “Here, you can borrow this.”

“I couldn’t possibly,” he said with perfectly feigned regret.

“Honestly, it’s fine. I’ve brought five books with me. I was going to start this one again, but it doesn’t matter – I’ve read it probably ten times already.”

He raised an eyebrow before looking down at the book she’d thrust in his hand. “The Time Traveler’s Wife?”

“Have you read it?”

“No.” The last book Rico had read had been a set piece of literature when he was at school.

It had been as big a waste of his time and energy as all the other books he’d been forced to read during his school years.

But, of course, Marisa thought he was nearly as big a reader as she was, so definitely not something to confess.

“You will love it,” she enthused. “Please, read it – I’d love to hear your thoughts.”

“I’ll start it tonight.” Or, rather, find a detailed synopsis and memorise it.

She beamed and reached for her cocktail. She finished what was left of it in one impressively long swallow.

“Another?” he asked.

She beamed again.

Had there ever been such a perfect afternoon, Marisa wondered.

After a second pina colada each, Rico had ordered them mojitos, which the barman had delivered with a plate of caprese paninis and chips for them to share.

She hadn’t even realised she was hungry until she’d taken her first bite, and she’d happily devoured the rest of her portion.

It felt so good to eat with Rico without a clock ticking down and knowing she didn’t have to run back to work.

Now, she was stretched out contentedly with her head propped on a towel Rico had rolled for her, watching the gentle waves breaking on the deserted beach.

Best of all, Rico lay stretched out beside her, but where her stare was on the sea, he was lying on his side, gazing at her.

It was getting harder to resist rolling over to face him.

She longed to. Really longed to. Longed to soak in every last millimetre of his face, and maybe if that was all she wanted then she would do it, but she had a strong awareness of his hand flat on the tiny space of mattress separating them and an even stronger awareness that the hand she’d draped over her stomach was only inches away from it.

She thought back to the schoolboy whose awareness of her had piqued her awareness of him.

Before she’d felt compelled to bust his balls with her knee, they’d gone to the cinema to watch the latest superhero film.

She’d been bored out of her skull and had debated holding his hand more to relieve the boredom than out of a wish to hold it.

There had been no itch in her fingers, no longing to just touch him.

No secret wish for him to take her hand.

Her heart hadn’t thrashed so powerfully that it had sent ripples into her belly.

“What are you thinking?”

She closed her eyes and smiled, knowing the heat rising on her cheeks at Rico’s question would be showing on her skin. “About a date I had when I was fifteen.”

“You’ve been on a date?” he teased.

She laughed. She was pretty sure Rico had guessed from everything she’d shared during their lunches and in her letters that she was a virgin. “Just the one.”

His head moved a fraction closer to her. “It didn’t go well?”

“He thought buying me a tub of ice cream meant I was going to put out for him.”

He lifted his head. The intensity of his stare compelled her to turn her face to meet the deep-set, piercing blue eyes. A groove had appeared in his forehead. “He forced himself on you?”

“He tried.” Her laugh was more rueful than humorous. “He didn’t get very far. He stuck his tongue in my mouth and it was the most disgusting thing ever, and he squeezed my breast like it was one of those stress-relief balls… and I’ve no idea why I’m telling you this.”

“Because I’m your friend and you can tell me anything.”

She smiled and unthinkingly rolled onto her side to face him properly. “He didn’t get much further than that. When he tried to stick his hand up my skirt, I bit his tongue and kneed him in the balls.”

He winced and laughed in one painful sound. “Good for you.”

“It’s funny, but I look back on it now and I feel sorry for him. He was a clumsy schoolboy. I could probably have stopped him by just pushing him away and saying no.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“His tongue in my mouth was just…” She made a gagging sound that made his face briefly crease with amusement before the lines around his eyes smoothed out and the intensity came back into his stare, an intensity with such hypnotism she couldn’t have looked away if she’d wanted to .

For the longest time, they just gazed at each other. Marisa’s heart was swelling so hard she swore she could feel it push against her ribs.

He inched his face even closer, so close the tips of their noses were almost touching.

“I’m sorry your first kiss was such a bad one,” he said lowly.

His warm breath whispered against her skin…

she could smell the mint and rum of his mojito.

The tips of his fingers brushed the tips of hers, and suddenly her heart wasn’t just swelling but pounding hard enough to stop her breathing, drums thrashing a beat in her head.

His fingers sliding slowly between hers, Rico’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Have you kissed anyone since?”

Swallowing a mouth suddenly filled with moisture, she gave the lightest shake of her head.

The tips of their noses touched. Their fingers locked together. The drum beat in Marisa’s head and her chest became a cacophony of hot noise as Rico tilted his head and his lips gently pressed against hers.

Closing her eyes, the world whooshed away under a flood of flickering sensation.

After forever passed where he did nothing but hold his lips chastely to hers and breathe her in, his mouth moved in an almost lazy caress, and he seductively coaxed her lips apart.

His silken tongue slowly brushed against hers, shocking her with the electrical thrill of it, and then the world and everyone in it disappeared.

Helpless to do anything but follow his tender ministrations, Marisa’s entire being sank into Rico.

His darkly exotic taste filled her as much as the sensation of his mouth on hers, and as she breathed him in, a faint trace of warming oranges swirled with the musk of his skin and the darkness of his breath.

She had no recollection of their hands slipping apart until she softly moaned at the exquisite sensation of his fingers burrowing into her hair.

Pressed her fingers tighter into a warm cheek of a texture so utterly different to her own, she dragged the pads over it, dimly marvelling and thrilling at the thick stubble threatening to break the surface.

The kiss intensifying, she sank even deeper with it, leaving her dazed when he finally broke the fusion and drew back.

His hand still burrowed in her hair, his piercing stare capturing hers, he rubbed the tip of his nose to hers and huskily whispered, “How was that? Better?”

But she couldn’t speak. She was trembling, inside and out, and as the loud screech of a seagull flying over them penetrated her senses, the fog of Rico that had enveloped her lessened enough for her to fill with horror at what she’d just allowed to happen.

Dropping her hand from his cheek as if it had been scalded, she grabbed his wrist to pull his hand from her hair and scrambled upright.

“What did you do that for?” she choked, unable to look at him. “You know that isn’t what I want.”

There was a long moment of silence before the mattress moved, and then every cell in her body clenched as he hooked an arm around her waist to pull her back to rest against his hard chest, spreading his legs out on either side of her, gently but effectively trapping her.

He pressed a kiss into the top of her head and held his mouth there. Slowly, slowly, the heat of his breath seeping into her skull had the effect of relaxing her, and when she closed her eyes, she became aware of the beat of his heart pounding against her back.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, clutching at the muscular arm holding her waist so securely. She’d let him kiss her. She’d kissed him back. It wasn’t fair to blame him for how he made her feel .

His mouth moved against her head. “Don’t be. I told you, I will be anything you want me to be.”

Her voice dropped even lower. “I didn’t mean to lead you on.”

“You didn’t.” His breath swirled through the strands of her hair. “I will take whatever you can give me, but I will never pressure you into anything you don’t want to do.” His arms tightened around her. “Just holding you like this feels incredible.”

Fighting back tears at the impossibility of their feelings, she twisted into him, pressing her cheek against his heart.

The urge to lift her face to his and seek another of his kisses was growing so strong that if his phone hadn’t suddenly rung out, she couldn’t put her hand on her heart and say she wouldn’t have done it.

She felt him stiffen and then suck in a long breath. “I need to take this.”