Postcards From Rio: Master of Her Innocence / To Play with Fire / A Taste of Desire

She felt the jolt of surprise that ran through him, but he responded instantly and opened his mouth to welcome the gentle probing of her tongue. He was content to follow her lead, and as she continued kissing him she felt the terrible tension that gripped his muscles gradually lessen.

‘Is it working?’ She finally had to stop and allow them both to breathe.

‘I’m not sure,’ he said thickly. ‘You’d better try again.’

He did not look quite so pale, she thought as she stood on tiptoe so that she could reach his mouth. This time he took control and deepened the kiss until Clare’s senses were swamped by the taste of him, the scent of his aftershave, the feel of his strong arms sliding around her waist to pull her even closer to him—so close that she could not mistake the hard ridge of his arousal.

‘Something’s definitely working,’ he drawled, sounding more like the laid-back Diego she knew—and did not love. Of course not. It was just a silly saying that had slipped into her mind.

The lift suddenly lurched and then continued its ascent. Clare sprang away from him, hot-faced with embarrassment that in trying to distract him from his phobia she had aroused him, and herself, she acknowledged ruefully as she glanced down at the outline of her nipples jutting beneath her dress.

Moments later the doors opened directly into the penthouse and she heard Diego exhale heavily as he followed her out of the lift. As they walked in silence along the hallway leading to their respective bedrooms she did not know what to think, or what was going to happen next. But she knew with sudden clarity what she wanted to happen. Becky had warned her that Diego was a heartbreaker, but Clare had no intention of letting him anywhere near her heart.

Disappointment swooped in her stomach when he walked straight past the door to his suite without trying to persuade her to sleep with him. Maybe he did not desire her as much as she’d thought.

Her room was next to his. He halted outside the door and casually swung the jacket that he was carrying over his shoulder. But there was nothing casual about the smouldering intensity in his eyes, and his voice was a rough growl that grazed her skin and sent a quiver of excitement down her spine. ‘Are you going to invite me in?’

‘Yes.’ Simple, direct. She was tired of playing games. ‘But there is a condition.’

His brows rose in silent query.

‘I won’t pay off my debt with sex and after tonight I will still owe you a million dollars. I’m inviting you into my bed because I want you. But I won’t be your mistress. You will be my...’ she had been going to say lover, but reminded herself that love was not involved ‘...stud.’

He gave a husky laugh that evoked a coiling sensation low in her pelvis. ‘You are something else, Clare.’ There was a curious note that she almost thought was admiration in his voice. He opened her bedroom door, placed his hand at the small of her back and pushed her into the room. ‘Be careful what you wish for, querida.’ He slid his hand down and caressed her bottom, his touch burning her through her dress. ‘You want a stud and, as you can feel—’ he pressed up against her so that his erection nudged the cleft between her buttocks and their clothes were a frustrating barrier ‘—I am very willing to oblige.’

* * *

Diego knew he was going to have to cool things down. He was fiercely tempted to drag Clare’s dress up to her waist, pull her knickers down and bend her over the end of the bed so that he could take her hard and fast, the way his body was aching to do. Adrenaline was still pumping through his veins from when they had been trapped in the lift, but his urgent need to make love to her was more than a primal urge to have sex.

Deus, she had been so sweet when she had kissed him to distract him from his stupid, irrational fear. If she knew the truth of why he hated confined spaces, maybe she would understand that his gut-churning terror of being confined was not irrational. But he had never told any of his mistresses that he had been to prison, so why would he tell Clare?

He realised she was watching him with a faint uncertainty in her eyes that made him dismiss his thoughts and focus all his attention on her. She’d said she wanted a stud, but her only experience of sex was when he had taken her virginity. What she needed from him was patience and tenderness. It occurred to him that he would enjoy teaching her the many and varied pathways of pleasure that she had never experienced with any other man. Diego frowned. This possessive feeling was a new experience for him and not one that he wanted to think about too deeply.

He threaded his fingers into her hair that felt like silk against his skin and lowered his head to claim her lips in a kiss that started out as gentle. But her eager response stoked the fire inside him so that he thrust his tongue into her mouth in an erotic imitation of thrusting his throbbing arousal into her.

She tugged open his shirt buttons and ran her hands feverishly over his bare chest. He gave a half-laugh, half-groan. ‘How can I make love to you slowly and gently when you are so damned hot?’

Clare curled her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers, pressing her curvaceous body up against him so that Diego could feel the hard points of her nipples scrape across his chest. ‘I don’t want slow and gentle. I don’t mind if you are rough,’ she whispered against his lips. ‘I just want you now, now.’

‘Deus, you will be the death of me, anjinho.’ He ran her zip down her spine and tugged the gold dress. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her bare breasts spilled into his hands, firm and plump like ripe peaches, and utterly delectable when he kissed the creamy mounds, before he closed his lips around one pouting nipple and then the other.

Her soft moans of delight nearly drove him over the edge, and when she fumbled with the zip on his trousers and her fingers brushed across his arousal he knew he had to take control. He swiftly dragged her dress over her hips so that it slid to the floor, leaving her in just a tiny gold thong and high-heeled strappy gold sandals. Diego knelt and removed her shoes and then scooped her up and deposited her on the bed, but he resisted her attempt to pull him down on top of her.

He stood at the end of the bed and pushed her thighs apart. ‘I’ll explain how this is going to work, querida. I am going to kiss every inch of your body, and I mean everywhere,’ he warned her softly. ‘Now lie back.’

* * *

He could not actually mean everywhere, Clare thought as she stretched out on top of the satin bedspread while Diego knelt above her and lowered his head to capture her mouth in a sensual kiss that added fuel to the flame of her desire. He trailed his lips over her throat and breasts, paying special attention to her nipples until she whimpered with pleasure. ‘Enough,’ she pleaded in a breathy voice she hardly recognised as her own.

‘I’ve barely begun,’ he told her as he moved down her body, kissing her stomach and the tops of her thighs. She trembled and instinctively tried to scissor her legs together, but he firmly held them open so that she was utterly exposed to him apart from a fragile strip of gold silk. He pushed her thong aside, and as Clare felt his silky hair brush against her inner thighs she suddenly realised that he really did intend to kiss every bit of her.