She wanted him. Really wanted him, like she had never wanted before. What was so wrong with that? It had been so very long since she had felt such need, such heat. Maybe she never had. He deepened the kiss, and a heavier fog of desire built, threatening to consume her.
No, she had never felt this kind of arousal before. It was as if a magnetic force pulled her to him, making her yearn to feel his body next to hers.
And they had only just begun.
His power to make her ache in places he didn’t touch was nothing short of amazing. This was new. This was incredible. This couldn’t be missed.
To hell with her conservative, good-girl lifestyle. For once in her life, she wanted to let go and feel. If her ex-husband had made her feel these things…she shoved the thought away. Thinking of him, her past, might mess with her head and rattle her confidence and cool the desire her Zorro was so effectively building.
Instead, she sank into the kiss, sliding her palms up his back. Giving into the need to be closer to him, she pressed her chest to his, her nipples aching sweetly as they brushed against him.
He held her close, touching her face, her hair, her neck. Gentle caresses etched with sensuality and tenderness. This was not a man who acted as if he wanted only sex.
He was a man intent on making love.
And she was intent on experiencing all he had to offer.
He pulled back slightly, softly wiping the wetness from her bottom lip with his thumb and then taking her hand in his. “Come, mi Hermosa, you are going to catch cold. We must get you out of those wet clothes.”
Heart racing at mega speed, she let him lead her across the room. When they were in the bathroom, standing at the sink, he turned her to face the mirror. He stood so close to her, she could feel his hardness pressing against her bottom.
What would he do next? Nervous anticipation laced with excitement had her trembling ever so slightly. Not knowing what to expect from him should have frightened her. Instead, it seemed to heighten the excitement.
Using the towel, which he still held in one hand, he began drying her hair. “I noticed your hair back at the bar.”
Her eyes lifted, locking with his in the mirror. “You did?”
“I noticed a lot of things,” he said, tossing the towel on the counter.
Her eyes widened. “Like?”
One of his hands spread wide on her stomach. “There is loneliness in your eyes.”
“I choose to be alone,” she said defensively.
His hand inched its way upward and then stopped. “I have no doubt.” He studied her lips as if he wanted to kiss her and then slowly raised his eyes back to hers. “But not tonight.”
She digested his words. He was right. Not tonight. Tonight she wanted to be with him. But she didn’t have the courage to say it out loud.
His hand began inching upward again. She could feel anticipation building in her stomach and in the tingling between her legs. Where was that hand of his going?
Courage. She repeated the word several times in her mind, even as she fought through her sensual fog. “No,” she said softly. “Not tonight.”
Jessica wondered if he knew how much it had cost her to say those words. To admit she wanted to be here. How much she had to overcome to stay. Here. With him.
Somehow, she thought he might. His body knew hers in ways no one ever had. Could he read her so easily through and through?
His mouth settled at her temple, pressing lightly as his hand moved up the line of buttons on her shirt.
He unbuttoned it slowly, using both hands and then sliding the wet material off her shoulders. Tossing it on the counter, as he had the towel, he looked at her in the mirror.
Jessica stood facing her own reflection in a lacy black bra. She was covered, but not. Her attention shifted to him. She watched him in the mirror. His hands and eyes moved over her shoulders. The darkness of his skin against hers stirred something inside her.
“Such fair skin,” he murmured and then lifted his eyes to hers, clearly thinking the same thing she was. Their differences aroused him as well. Holding her gaze, he reached for the clasp at her back and unhooked her bra.
Nervously, her hands went to cover her breasts, holding the material in place. His hands slid up her back, warming her skin with their caress, as they returned to her shoulders. “It’s your choice,” he said.
Nerves and old fears were haunting her. Her ex-husband’s harsh words about her sexual performance, and even her body, were like demons in her head. But she wanted this man. He made her feel sexy and adventurous.
And she wanted to be all that and more.
Wanted it with all her heart and soul. The ghost of the past was destroying her, and she wanted them gone. “No,” Jessica said, though her voice quivered. “I don’t want a shirt. I want this.” Her hands dropped, and she shrugged out of the bra. Moments later it lay with her shirt.
She didn’t look in the mirror, averting her eyes downward, as she took a deep breath to calm her nerves. She could feel him looking at her.
“You are truly lovely.” His fingers ran down her neck, but still she didn’t look up. “Such full, beautiful breasts. And your nipples…” He stopped speaking, and she looked into the mirror, locking eyes with him. She could see the depths of his arousal in his eyes.
He looked down at her nipples. “They are very aroused, are they not?” He looked back up at her. “Because you are cold or because you are thinking about what I might do to them?”
She wasn’t used to talking about this type of thing. Her ex’s words raced through her head. Boring, sexless. “I’m…not cold.”
One of his hands ran the length of her hair, and his lips nuzzled the sensitive spot behind her ear. “Meaning, you are thinking of what I might do to you?”
Her lashes fluttered. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Open your eyes, mi Hermosa.” She forced herself to comply, meeting his gaze. “Now. Tell me what you want me to do to you. Wht is your desire?”
Three
Tell him what she wanted him to do? She’d never told a man what to do during lovemaking. She clenched her teeth at the words and corrected herself. This was sex. Just sex. The thought of telling this man what she desired, both scared and excited her. She swallowed and wet her lips. “I…I don’t know.”
His eyes narrowed in reprimand. Bringing his mouth to her ear, he nipped her earlobe ever so gently. “Yes, you do. Tell me.”
Their eyes locked in the mirror yet again. His face was still low, cheek pressed to hers. She could smell him, enticingly male with a hint of spice. Her senses were so alive she could still taste him, even though it had been long minutes since they kissed.
There were so many things she could do with this man. “I want…”
“You want what?” he asked as his hands moved back to her stomach. “Tell me. You want what?” He repeated the words.
“Touch me.” Jessica’s voice was barely audible.
“I am touching you.”
“No.” She swallowed, no, gulped. “Touch my…breasts.”
He didn’t so much as hesitate. His hands cupped her breasts, taking their weight and ever so softly kneading. But he didn’t touch her nipples, and she knew it was on purpose. He was teasing her and it was working. Her nipples ached, begging for relief. For satisfaction.
“Like this?” he asked.
“No.” He started to move his hands, but she covered them with her own. “I mean yes, but…”
His brows inched up in the mirror. “Tell me what you want.”
She took a deep breath. What she wanted was the courage to be bold and spicy and everything a sexy woman would be with a man like this. “Touch my nipples.”
He murmured something in Spanish, kissing her neck and then lightly pinching her nipples between his fingers. She moaned as a rush of sensation washed over her.