Page 28 of Bad Rio

Chapter Twelve

Rio had assumed thatwhen and if the time came that Becca capitulated to him, the sex would be hot, furious, and fast. He didn’t anticipate long, slow, luxurious lovemaking.

Yet he found he wanted to take his time, enjoy her every soughed breath, watch the sensuality brighten her velvet brown eyes, feel her every physical response to him. He wanted this to be as good for her as he knew it would be for him. While he’d always been a solicitous lover, he’d never really cared deeply about his partner’s satisfaction.

This felt different. They’d barely escaped certain death. Those flying bullets had come too close. Yet they were still alive, still breathing, their hearts still beating in their chests. He wanted—no, heneeded—to connect with her in the most primal way, through sexual release. He needed that with Becca.

When she reached for him, he detected a slight shiver in her and he said, “Lie back. Let me warm you.”

Before he touched any erogenous zones, he wanted her body warmed and relaxed. So, he took the time to massage and rub her shoulders, her waist, her hips and legs.

She complied, her dark eyes watching his every move.

Finally, beneath the quilts, they were both warmed. Lying beside her, he threaded his fingers through her hair, held her still for his kiss. At first, he merely touched his lips to hers. He wanted to map their shape and texture, and with only his mouth’s most tender touch, he felt her lips form a smile.

Pulling back, he smiled into her eyes. “I want you, Becca.Allof you.”

Her pretty eyes grew heavy-lidded and sultry. “You want all I can give?”

“Yes.” He breathed the word, again moving their mouths close together with only the barest of gaps between them.

“I will,” she started, but when he touched his tongue to her Cupid’s bow, she gasped. “I will give, Rio,” she got out, “all of myself to you.”

He needed no further encouragement. Taking both her wrists in one hand, he drew them up and held them firmly over her head on the bedcovers. She gasped.

Still holding her, he deepened the kiss. His tongue swept into her mouth, demanding now. Hers responded in kind. When he released her wrists, she dug her fingers into his shoulders. Needing to feel her hands on his bare flesh, in one motion he pulled off his t-shirt. Becca moaned, and squeezed his biceps.

Rio rose on one elbow to watch her face. He touched the hem of the t-shirt she still wore, the one she’d borrowed from his bag. Lifting it a few inches, he let his knuckles drag across her flat stomach.

“You know I want to see you, see your breasts,” he whispered into her ear. “After you gave me a glimpse this morning, I’ve been salivating, hungry for more.”

Her eyes lit. She nodded. The need shining in their depths called to him in a siren’s song. He could no more stop himself from touching her than Greek sailors could keep from throwing themselves atop fatal rocks.

Lifting the shirt another inch, he allowed his knuckles to skim over her flesh. “And I want to kiss them, and taste them,” he said.

Delighting him, she squirmed. “Yes,” she breathed. “Oh, yes.” She made a little gasp.

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