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Between her legs she was burning up, the ache she’d been feeling for two years growing more acute with each passing second, with the tantalising promise of fulfilment. As if reading her mind, Rico pulled her even closer, his big hands spreading around her buttocks to lift her against him slightly, so that she could feel his arousal more fully.
And all the while their mouths clung, and a desperation was building in the kiss, as if they’d both suddenly realised the depth of the passion they’d been missing for two years. Gypsy strained higher, her hands going to Rico’s head, where her fingers tangled in silky strands, keeping his head against hers. Not allowing him to escape…
With another guttural moan, Rico impatiently found and pushed up Gypsy’s T-shirt, smoothed his hand up over her waist and belly to cup her breast. With a gasp she couldn’t hold back she tore her mouth away
from Rico’s and looked up—dazed, dizzy.
At that moment a little squeak came from the baby monitor. They both tensed and froze. The red mist of arousal cleared from Gypsy’s brain and the present moment came back. She was plastered to Rico’s front, all over him like a clinging vine. And his hand cupped her lace-covered breast intimately.
No other sound came from the monitor, but Gypsy used the impetus to push roughly away from Rico, who stood there looking dishevelled and utterly gorgeous, cheeks flushed, eyes so dark they looked black in the dim lighting. More buttons on his shirt had been opened. Horror gripped her. Had she done that?
She backed away and hit the window, was glad of the support. She felt as though she might just slide down it and land in a heap of sprawled limbs. ‘I don’t know…’ she began shakily ‘…that was…’
‘That,’ Rico said grimly, sounding utterly composed, ‘was something we will return to—without interruption.’
Gypsy shook her head, and quivered as Rico strode forward and caged her in, putting his hands either side of her head on the thick glass.
‘We’ve just proved that this desire has not died. If I were to seduce you right here and now I could have your legs around my waist and take you right against this window.’
The carnality of his words made Gypsy blush brick-red, even as the image in her mind strangled any denial she might make. She just shook her head again—pathetically.
Rico brought a finger to her cheek and trailed it slowly and sensuously down over her jaw, and lower, to the V of her T-shirt which rested just above her cleavage. His eyes met hers. ‘You won’t be going anywhere, Gypsy. Not until I say so.’ A chill entered his voice. ‘And if you do, I’ll find you. So you see, no matter where you go, I’ll simply bring you back. You and Lola are mine now, and I always claim what’s mine.’
At that moment the monitor sprang to life again, and Gypsy jumped. A plaintive wail sounded. ‘Mama…’
‘I hate you, Rico.’
He smiled, and it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘I hate you too, Gypsy. But conveniently enough our desire seems to exist in spite of our mutual antipathy.’
Gypsy finally managed to bring her hands up to knock Rico’s down, and on extremely wobbly legs, feeling perilously close to tears, she left the room to tend to Lola.
Chapter Seven
RICO sat heavily on the couch once Gypsy had left. In truth his legs felt profoundly unsteady. His heart was racing and, despite the coolness he’d just projected, the taste of Gypsy, the feel of her, the scent of her, had all acted like the most powerful aphrodisiac. If they’d not been interrupted by Lola just now, he wouldn’t have been far from freeing himself from his confining clothes, pulling off her jeans and surging up and into her moist heat against the window he’d just taunted her with. He burned with a need he’d only felt once before—the night he’d met her.
He reeled at realising how quickly passion had blazed—literally within minutes of arriving in the door from work. But something about the way she’d told him that she intended to leave had unleashed a wave of possessiveness and desire inside him so strong that it still astounded him.
Through the baby monitor he heard Lola’s cries abate, and Gypsy saying in a voice that sounded suspiciously husky, ‘What is it, sweetie? You woke up?’
Even at that Rico tensed all over again, and cursed volubly. And then the monitor went suddenly silent, as if Gypsy had realised he might hear them and had turned it off, and he had to restrain himself from going down to the room and demanding irrationally that she put it back on.
That Friday morning Gypsy got the call which meant the inevitable end of life and freedom as she and Lola had known it. In a curt voice Rico wasted no time in informing her that he had the paternity test results and they were positive.
You could have saved your precious money, Gypsy wanted to hurl at him but didn’t. She merely listened to him tell her that he’d be home soon to talk to her, and put down the phone.
While Mrs Wakefield gave Lola some lunch, Gypsy paced the floor of the living room. Every nerve in her body was coiled tight, and had been ever since that kiss three nights ago. Since then she’d done everything possible to avoid being alone with Rico—much to his evident and mocking amusement. His steel-grey eyes followed her with heavy-lidded intent whenever they were together—which hadn’t been that often, as he’d been working till late most days, confirming for her that he would fall into a predictable pattern of work. Even that hadn’t induced feelings of recrimination, only something suspiciously like disappointment.
Her motivation had changed from an intense desire to get away from Rico and his autocracy to the treacherous desire for her own self-protection. She was already so vulnerable to him, and now she was even more vulnerable. Because clearly her mind had absolutely no control over her body. And her body wanted Rico so badly that she dreamt of it when she slept and craved it when she was awake.
She hated that she could be so weak, that even knowing Rico was intent on controlling them she could still desire him so badly.
Just then she heard the unmistakable sound of his return, and went to see him standing at the door of the kitchen, taking in the sight of Lola happily chirruping away with Mrs Wakefield, causing a circle of destruction around her highchair. He had a look on his face that made Gypsy’s heart twist, and then he said, sounding suspiciously gruff, ‘Mrs Wakefield, I’d like to introduce you to my daughter—Lola.’
Mrs Wakefield smiled affectionately. ‘Well, I could have told you that the minute I saw her. She’s the image of you.’
As if just becoming aware of Gypsy’s presence Rico turned his head, and all that warmth was gone in a flash. She shivered. He hated her. He really hated her now that he had incontrovertible proof that he was Lola’s father.
He turned back to Mrs Wakefield and asked, ‘Would you mind taking Lola for a walk when you’ve finished here? I have some things to discuss with Gypsy.’
