“Are you saying you’ve changed your mind?”
“Yes.” It was little more than a whisper.
“What if you change your mind again?” He still hadn’t moved from where he leaned against the refrigerator. He couldn’t. Every muscle, every nerve had frozen as soon as he’d understood what she was saying.
“That’s what I came to tell you.” She moved slowly to stand in front of him. “I’m not running scared anymore.” It didn’t begin to explain what had sent her running in the first place, but it was all she could give him. When he still stood motionless, she might have lost her resolve if she hadn’t seen and correctly interpreted the look in his eyes. The intensity she saw there told her that he was far from unmoved. She was beckoned closer, tempted to reckless abandon by the glittering promise she read in his gaze.
Madeline stepped nearer, until they were standing toe-to-toe. Slowly she reached out with her cold bottle and pressed its coolness against the bare skin of one of his shoulders. Then she moved it slowly down his chest, the bottle gliding easily with the cool condensation that had formed on the outside. She traced an imaginary line around one of his nipples and then rubbed the tip of the bottle against the taut nub. A muscle jumped in his chest, rewarding her efforts and tempting her to further indulgences. “The question is,” she murmured huskily, her eyes entranced by the sight of the cool drops leaving temptingly moist paths across his stomach, “whether you feel the same way.” Her voice almost disappeared. “Whether you still want me.”
“If you’re having any doubts about that, I’d suggest you hug me real tight,” he muttered. “I just want you to be sure this time. I don’t want to find out later that you, ah, Maddy…” His breath hissed in as her mouth followed the trail the bottle had left, across his chest, and lower.
When her tongue scooped up the drop of moisture the bottle had left in his navel, his urge to speak left him. Lightning quick, one hand set his own bottle on the counter next to him and the other arm snaked around her waist and pulled her closer. Close enough for her to tell for herself just what effect she had on him.
She wasn’t given much opportunity to enjoy his reaction. His mouth came down on hers with all the frustrated passion he’d been forced to keep hidden.
His kiss was hard and deep, but she relished the demand it made. There was a reassurance in the fierceness of his need for her, a fierceness that was fully reciprocated. He pressed her lips apart and entered her mouth with a smooth, sure sweep of his tongue, and she welcomed the intimate invasion. Her lips twisted under his, making her own demands. She could feel her usual caution slip, and the unfamiliar freedom was frighteningly beady. She would have liked more time to explore it, to test the boundaries of the dizzying experience. But then his mouth went to the spot below her ear that he had found on their other night together, and she shivered helplessly. Tantalizing, openmouthed kisses were pressed up and down the delicate cord of her neck, and at the same time she could feel him take the bottle from her hand. She wasn’t even aware when he took the barrette from her hair. She dimly recognized the absence of her jacket and the cooler air touching her bare skin as her blouse was unbuttoned and tossed on the center island.
His hands dropped to her waist, smoothing over the pale pink teddy she’d worn beneath her clothes. How a woman could be so full of contrasts, so prim and tailored on the outside and all satin and lace beneath, Cruz didn’t know, but he gave a fervent prayer of thanks for it. Maddy had a penchant for filmy underthings, and damned if he wasn’t developing a yen for them himself.
He rubbed his lips over hers, waiting until they opened for him before sealing her mouth with his own. At the same time he dispensed with her slacks and shoes. An inner voice was reminding him to go slowly, to take it easy, but apparently that voice had no direct impact on his hands. They slipped up the back of the teddy and cupped the firm bottom beneath, bringing her fully against him.
Madeline gasped at the feel of the solid ridge behind his zipper, held in check by the worn denim. His hard chest was pressed against hers, separated only by the silky barrier of her lingerie, and she rubbed her breasts against him, exciting both of them.
Cruz knew he was rushing this, knew he should be questioning her change of heart. But slowing down was beyond him. He was a man of hot-blooded desires, kept firmly in check most of the time. He had to wield an iron control over his own appetites; in his profession, one impulsive move could get him killed. But he had no defenses erected against the way she wanted him, didn’t wish for any. His need for this woman was immediate and violent. Her touch was no more gentle. Her hands were clenched on his shoulders, the nails stabbing slightly, and he welcomed the slight twinge of pain they brought.
He reached out to push a strap down her satiny shoulder, and stayed to cup the firm warm breast his action freed. His thumb passed over the velvety nipple once, twice, before his mouth replaced his hand.
Madeline’s back arched at his sudden move, unconsciously pressing closer to his mouth. He suckled strongly from her, and her senses swam. Without lifting his head, he backed her to the counter, then boosted her up on its edge.
By the time her eyes fluttered open, dazed by the sudden movement, she was stretched out on the surface, and Cruz was lying next to her. She met his fervent kiss, and the strangeness of their surroundings whirled from her consciousness, to be filled instead with him. The pleasure wasn’t slow and insidious this time, it was hot and all consuming. His actions reflected her own agony of need, and sharpened it. His mouth drew her nipples into taut beads of sensual torment, then lashed them gently with his tongue.
Her hands rushed over his bare torso, delighting in the smooth warm skin covering tight muscles. They went to his zipper, and he obligingly lifted away to allow her access. Her hands freed his sex, heavy and throbbing, and cupped it. Cruz pushed into them, muttering something in Spanish. He endured her teasing, curious fingers for only short moments before he moved away.
Madeline wanted to protest the move, but before she was able to, his wicked mouth was back, and it was doing delightful things to her breasts and stomach. Her arms urged him upward, unable to tolerate more teasing. Her passion was honed to razor sharpness, the desire so strong that the anticipation was almost painful.
And then the anticipation was over. Cruz plunged into her with one long, deep thrust that drove the breath from her body, even as her legs climbed his waist to hold him in the most intimate caress of all. The solidness of his possession was enough to bring a tiny spark of vivid satisfaction, but not for long. In the next second she craved even more, and her hips arched beneath his.
Cruz correctly read her need and he gave full rein to his own frantic desire. Sliding his hands beneath her bottom, he raised her to meet each of his thrusts, each deeper and wilder than the last.
Each movement increased her pleasure sharply, until suddenly the culmination hit her and swept her off the precipice. Cruz felt her climax, and it was enough to trigger his own as the pleasure careened through him. He jerked under the force of it, spilling his hot seed into her. The eddies went on and on, until finally he collapsed, gasping harshly.
He hadn’t protected her, the first time he could remember such a lapse. Even when he’d lost his virginity at the age of sixteen, or later, when the girls had become bolder, inviting him to test his rampant sexuality, not once had he failed to protect his partner. But instead of regret, he was filled with a fierce sense of pleasure. The image of Maddy, naked as she was now, belly round with his child, was too satisfying a picture.
It could have been minutes or hours before either of them moved. Then she gave a little gasp, and he became aware for the first time that he was crushing her with his weight. He moved to the side, throwing a leg over her to keep her close to him. He rubbed his face in her thick loose hair, tangled now from his hands.
Pressing a kiss to her earlobe, he whispered lazily, “I guess my mother was right when she helped me design this kitchen. You can’t ever have too much counter space.”
She nipped at his collarbone, satisfied at his flinch of pain. “You’re a wicked man, Martinez.”
A satisfied smile tilted his lips as he gazed down on her. “You’re about to see just how wicked I can be, given the right incentive.”
An hour later, lolling in the bathtub with him, Madeline was inclined to agree that he could be very wicked indeed. He had lured her into taking an innocent shower with him, one that had turned out to be not so innocent after all. Their second bout of lovemaking had left her sapped of strength, utterly boneless. Her hair had been soaked as they’d forgotten everything but the savage arousal that stole over them so effortlessly. Cruz bad insisted on washing her hair for her, and even now, sitting between his legs in the tub, back propped against his chest, her head was on his shoulder, and his hands were still massaging the shampoo rhythmically into her hair.
Her eyes were shut in sybaritic pleasure. There was something extremely arousing in the delight Cruz seemed to take in touching her. He was an utter sensualist; he reacted to the world around him through his sense of touch. She’d noticed that about him early on. And, if truth be known, at the same time she’d wondered what it would feel
