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‘You seem distracted,’ Dante commented when the first dance ended.
‘Nothing could be further from the truth,’ she assured him. ‘I’m wide awake.’
‘And firing on all cylinders,’ he observed, bringing her with him as the band started playing again.
She should have stopped at that point, excused herself politely and left the floor. Instead, she warned, ‘Behave yourself or I’ll make you sit down to rest that leg.’
‘I love that you’re so masterful,’ Dante mocked in a husky whisper, bringing his mouth very close to hers.
‘And I love that you accept my authority,’ Jess countered with a half teasing smile. She couldn’t be serious all the time. ‘At one point I thought I’d have trouble with you.’
‘You will,’ Dante promised, drawing her closer still.
* * *
Dancing with Jess was like seizing hold of a red-hot brand and asking to be consumed by it. Any lingering thought he might have had that they could rewind to achieve their previously careful and polite relationship was now implausible, impossible; it just couldn’t happen. It only took millimetres of subtle shift in their bodies to tell him Jess felt the same. There was no need for grandiose gestures or unnecessary words between them. Coming together like this was enough. No woman had ever felt so right in his arms or been so receptive. There were a lot of beautiful women at the wedding but there was only one Jess. Who made him laugh as she did? Who had the wit to exchange banter that could be funny but was never cruel?
‘This is better than I thought,’ she whispered, surprising him with her boldness, and yet not really surprising him at all.
‘Better still,’ she murmured when he drew her close.
Jess’s duties as bridesmaid were the only obstacles he faced. She had a keen eye for detail and noticed everything, which meant leaving his side on a number of occasions to help the wait staff or to answer a guest’s query. Nothing was too much trouble for Jess. Apart from dancing with him, apparently. By now they should be somewhere else, but he hadn’t bargained on dancing with a Girl Scout.
God bless the Scouts, he reflected, shaking his head with amusement as Jess embarked on yet another mission. He might as well go rest his leg.
* * *
The party went on late into the night. When Maria teased Jess into joining her in dancing on the table, Jess laughed. ‘I hope you know I’ve got two left feet.’
‘Too late now,’ Maria told her as the bridegroom, Manuel, lifted Jess and deposited her next to his bride. Guests had gathered to watch the spectacle, which meant Jess couldn’t let her new friend down.
‘Lift your gown like this,’ Maria instructed as she picked up the hem of her wedding dress to strut a few dramatic flamenco steps. ‘Arch your back and stamp your feet in time to the music. Clap your hands like this.’
Having been forced to borrow shoes that were becoming increasingly uncomfortable, Jess confined herself to a series of poses and enthusiastic shouts of ‘Olé!’ Carried away by the excellence of Maria’s dancing, she acted on a wave of enthusiasm, so when the music ended and Maria jumped into her bridegroom’s arms, Jess jumped too—straight into the arms of Dante Acosta, who’d been standing watching with a look she found impossible to interpret. Catching her with no effort at all, he carried her away through the crowd.
So much for her resolve to keep Dante at arm’s length, Jess mused, excitement mounting. This was a night to remember, and whatever came next she was more than ready for it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE HUNGER TO be alone with Jess had been burning a hole through his head throughout the entire wedding. He could think of nothing else but being alone with her, but once they were inside the ranch house he reined in the wolf. Lowering Jess to her feet, he stood in the shadows staring down. ‘Another drink?’
‘I haven’t had a drink yet. Bridesmaid duties,’ she reminded him. ‘Clear head and all that?’
‘Keeping a clear head is always wise.’
‘With you around,’ she agreed cheekily.
Angling her chin to stare up at him with that same playful, challenging look in her eyes, she plumbed some deep, untapped well inside him. This couldn’t end here. It wouldn’t end here. They continued to stare at each other until the tension snapped, he seized her hand and they headed for the stairs—ran, rushed, with no sign of his injury now. Jess was the woman who’d broken through his reserve, and they were both laughing. It felt good after so long of having nothing to laugh about. Humour was a healing balm, and it was a glorious irony to want Jess so badly and yet be laughing so much that they couldn’t get there fast enough. Tears of laughter were streaming down Jess’s face as she finally dropped down on the stairs. He joined her and when eventually she fell silent that silence was charged with sexual energy. Who needed a bed?
‘May I?’ she asked, her voice hoarse with laughter.
‘Do I have a choice, señorita?’ he asked as she reached for his belt.
‘None at all.’
Those were the last few moments of calm. The next saw them tearing at each other’s clothes. Several of the tiny buttons down the back of the bridesmaid’s dress bounced down the stairs and skittered across the floor in the hallway.
To hell with this! He had no intention of making love to Jess on a staircase.
‘Dante! Give your leg a break,’ she protested as he swung her into his arms.
‘Why? If I injure it again, you’ll have to stay on.’
‘Dante, I can’t do that. You know I can’t—’
That was the last sensible conversation they had. It was as if an atomic force had consumed them both. Crashing into his room, he rocked back against the door, slamming it behind them. Lowering Jess to her feet, he wrenched off his jacket and tossed it on a chair as Jess slipped off her dress with catlike grace. Tugging his shirt free, Jess started work on his zip. At the same time they were kissing wildly, lips, teeth clashing in a dance as old as time. Animal sounds of need escaped their throats until finally he cupped Jess’s face in his hands and silenced her with kisses that were deep and long.
‘You’re overdressed,’ she complained when they came up for air.
‘So are you,’ he growled as he viewed her flimsy thong.
Cocking her head to one side, Jess smiled a witchy smile. ‘Do you like it?’
His groin tightened to the point of pain. ‘Depends on how easily it rips.’
‘Why don’t you try it and see?’ she suggested.
It ripped.
* * *
When Dante touched her she was his—right away, no hesitation. Fears and consequences were instantly banished to a place so deep in her mind she doubted they’d ever break free. This was right. This was how it should be. Falling back on the bed, she pulled him down on top of her. Guiding his hand, she directed him shamelessly. Not that Dante needed much direction. Moving her hand away, he continued to pleasure her in more ways than she knew existed.
‘Don’t,’ she begged when he pulled away. She needed this—needed Dante. The world she had previously inhabited made no sense now. Without emotion, sensation or risk, it was empty, as everything else was without Dante.
‘There are rules,’ he informed her in a husky whisper.
‘What? Like you make me wait? You leave me frustrated?’
‘I make you show me what you want,’ he added to her list.
‘I can’t do that.’
‘Why not?’ Dante enquired with his mouth very close to hers.
Jess’s heart thumped wildly. Surely Dante couldn’t mean she should touch herself in front of him?
‘You’re not shy,’ he observed in a clinical tone, ‘and we both know how hungry you are.’
‘Just as I know you’re teasing me.’
‘Am I?’
Emotion churned wildly inside her. All her adult life she’d had di
sappointing sexual encounters, and these had left Jess with the firm belief that the pleasure everyone talked about must be overrated. So what did she want Dante to do about it? Prove her wrong? Prove her so wrong she’d be in a worse state than before—wanting him with no possibility of ever having him? She’d end up as chaste as a nun.
‘I feel as if I’ve lost you,’ he remarked, staring down. ‘If you’ve changed your mind—’
‘I haven’t changed my mind.’ This was what she wanted. At least she’d have something to think back on.
She shivered with pleasure as Dante ran one slightly roughened palm down the length of her back. ‘You’re beautiful. Why make such a deal out of denying yourself pleasure?’
She was wedded to her career? That was a flimsy excuse. She wouldn’t be the first professional to cross the line, nor would she be the last.
Dante had spoiled her for all other men when she was just seventeen. Being older made the risk greater. Making love with Dante would reopen that wound and leave her worse off than before. So she was a coward, Jess concluded, destined to live out her life without knowing if sexual pleasure was even possible.
