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His eyes flared in response, and Gypsy could see something hot in their depths. Even though it caused an answering quiver in her belly, she immediately regretted her rash words. He finally let her go and sat back, draining his wine glass before saying nonchalantly, ‘This will happen the way I want it, Gypsy, and it won’t be to prove a point. Provoke me all you want, but you’d better be ready for the fall-out.’
Gypsy threw down her napkin and left the room.
Rico curbed the urge to drag her back and plunder her mutinous mouth. Desire was a heavy ache within him, and far too many ambiguous emotions were roiling in his chest. As for what he’d said about forgiving her—he was very much aware that forgiveness was something that had stolen over him while he wasn’t even looking. He still felt regret for having missed out on Lola’s early months, but no more anger towards Gypsy—and that realisation was cataclysmic.
That night Gypsy slept fitfully. She’d checked on Lola after dinner, but had been too restless to go to sleep straight away. It had seemed crazy to stay confined to her bedroom just to avoid Rico. Remembering the pool and how enticing it had looked, and the fact that it was heated, had encouraged her to think she might exercise herself to exhaustion.
It was only when she had been on the brink of walking into the pool area that she’d heard a sound and seen powerful arms scissoring in and out of the water. Mesmerised, half hidden behind a big plant, Gypsy had watched with bated breath as Rico had stopped and floated lazily on his back.
He had been completely naked. His long sleek body illuminated only by the moonlight and a few dim spotlights. Nearly tripping in her haste to get away before he saw her, Gypsy had fled back up to her room, knowing that nothing would be able to eradicate that potent image from her brain.
Now she’d woken again, and flipped onto her back, sighing heavily. She thought she’d heard a mewl come from Lola, but wasn’t sure if it had been a dream or not. She got up to investigate, just in case.
At the doorway to Lola’s room Gypsy felt her breath stop when her eyes registered the sight before her. Rico was asleep on a chair in the corner, his long jean-clad legs spread out before him, wearing a worn T-shirt which he must have pulled on after his swim. Powerful arms cradled the sleeping form of Lola to his chest.
Lola’s legs were curled up and her thumb was in her mouth, her other hand curled trustingly on Rico’s chest. For a second Gypsy feared she might cry out, so intense was the emotion ripping through her.
Controlling herself with an effort, she could see that though Rico might be asleep he must be uncomfortable. On bare feet she padded over and, bending down, barely breathing, carefully started to put her hands underneath Lola to lift her up.
Immediately Rico’s hands tensed in an instinctively protective gesture, and his eyes snapped open. Silently Gypsy communicated with him, and willed down the response of her body to his proximity, suddenly very aware of her short nightdress.
Relaxing his hold, Rico let Gypsy lift Lola away. Her legs went weak as her hands felt the hard contours of Rico’s chest. Carefully she stepped back and placed Lola down into the cot, pulling a blanket over her, and prayed that Rico would be gone when she turned around.
But he wasn’t. He was sitting forward, elbows on his knees, looking at her with slumberous eyes. One lock of midnight-black hair had fallen over his forehead. Hot all over, Gypsy backed away to her bedroom and watched with widening eyes as Rico stood up and prowled towards her.
Taking her by the hand, he put a finger to her mouth before she could say anything and looked at Lola. Gypsy nodded and let him lead her out. Her heart palpitated at the thought that he’d come through her bedroom to get to Lola, having obviously heard the same cry she’d heard earlier.
Expecting him to let her go now they were out of Lola’s room, with the door pulled behind them, Gypsy tried to pull her hand away—but Rico wouldn’t let go. She looked up, and all she could see were two burning pools of stormy grey.
She knew that look. She ached for that look. She’d seen that look in dreams for two years. But even so she shook her head. The need to protect herself against this final capitulation was strong. She opened her mouth to speak, but Rico put his finger there again and came close, backing her against the wall and pressing close, so close that Gypsy couldn’t think. All she could see was that image of him naked in the pool. Heat exploded low in her belly.
His voice was low and sultry. ‘This is inevitable—as inevitable as it was that night two years ago. We’ve both been waiting for this…wanting this…’
Gypsy shook her head again, futilely, and Rico speared his hands through her hair either side of her face, his thumbs on her jaw.
‘You’re mine, Gypsy, and there will be no more waiting. Your body tells me what you refuse to.’
And he bent his head and kissed her passionately, tipping her head back so that he could stab deep with his tongue. Desire was instant and overwhelming. Gypsy didn’t have a hope. She was a bundle of vulnerabilities, and at every turn this man was only making her feel more vulnerable, giving her little to cling onto in the way of protection.
Feeling impotent, and angry at her weakness, Gypsy fought fire with fire. Stroking Rico’s tongue with hers, she exulted in his hitched breath as he recognised her capitulation.
Gypsy’s hands came to his T-shirt and snaked underneath. She needed to feel his chest. Moving her hands over him, she felt how his belly contracted when she scraped her nails over the smooth skin and moved higher, through the covering of hair, finding the blunt nipples.
Impatient to see him, she pulled at the T-shirt. He ripped it off completely. He bent down for a second, and Gypsy felt herself being lifted into his arms and carried to the bed before Rico put her down again, sliding her down his body so that her nightdress rode up over her thighs.
She tried to move back, but with his hands on her waist he wouldn’t let her budge. His eyes were burning down into hers. She couldn’t look away, and felt heat flood her cheeks when he rocked his hips against her and she could feel the thrust of his erection against his jeans and her belly.
Liquid heat seeped between her legs and Gypsy squirmed. Breathless, she reached up and wound her arms around his neck, searching for and finding his mouth, savouring the firm fullness of his lower lip. His big hands moved to her bottom, underneath her pants, which he pushed down as he caressed her, coming back up over the indent of her waist and pulling her nightdress upwards.
For a split second Gypsy hesitated, her pants around her thighs and her nightdress bunched up just under her breasts. And then, with a deep shaky breath, she lifted her arms and let Rico pull it up and off all the way. Dimly, she knew he would not deviate from his mission. And the clamour in her own pulse told her that, no matter what she might protest, she was as hungry for this as he was.
She felt her hair fall down over her shoulders, and watched as Rico reached out to twine the strands around his hand. She brought up her hands to cover her breasts and he smiled down at her wolfishly. ‘It’s a bit late for modesty, don’t you think?’
Gypsy bit her lip. Rico bent down and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. Shuddering, she let her head fall back, and she felt his hands come to her pants, pushing them down her legs completely.
She was barely aware of him taking something out of his jeans pocket before she heard the button snap and the zip come down. They were gone, and he stood before her naked and proud.
Unable to stop herself, she let her gaze drop almost greedily. A part of her balked at his size, despite having been with him before, but another part thrilled.
