Ramon fell into step beside them. “Mariah, if you come to your senses and get tired of this ass, give me a call. You have my number.”
She opened her mouth to disagree. She didn’t have his number.
“She’s not calling you. Ever.” Rico shot each clipped word at Ramon like bullets from a gun.
Ramon grinned. “I'll let Mariah decide that.”
Mariah smiled graciously at him. “Thank you, Ramon.”
“My pleasure, baby. Don’t forget lunch. I'll call you.”
Mariah glanced back at him, puzzled. They hadn’t made lunch plans.
Rico marched faster and dragged her along with him.
She was in deep shit.
Chapter 18—The Heat
“What is wrong with you?” Mariah snapped. Her green eyes flashed with indignation as Rico hauled her into the back seat of the limo with very little finesse. She landed on the seat with a thud. Her dress hiked up to the point of being indecent.
Even in his fury, he enjoyed the view. She yanked down the skirt and cast a quick glance toward the driver. The divider between them prevented the man from seeing anything.
Rico stared straight ahead and said nothing as the sleek limo pulled away from the party. A muscle twitched in his jaw, betraying his anger. Actually, anger was an understatement. He seethed inside. Back in the dark recesses of his mind, he knew he was being unreasonable. But she was his, dammit. She shouldn’t let that little punk fondle her like that.
“Where are we going?” Mariah asked as she tugged on her dress.
“My house.” He gritted his teeth so hard his head hurt. How could she act so cool? She’d been perfect all night, so perfect it was as if she didn’t need him. He wanted to throw something, rage at her, penetrate her calm shell. Instead, he put his arm around her and pulled her closer. His movements were angry and stiff and possessive rather than affectionate.
“Drop me off at a hotel.” Mariah pouted.
“Your luggage is at my house.” Rico made a momentous effort to keep his voice level.
“I’ll do without it. I can buy what I need or the hotel can supply it.” Mariah stared straight ahead.
“I don’t think so, bella.” No way in hell was he sleeping without her tonight. Not after looking at her in that dress, hearing her delightful laugh, and dancing close to her. Not after she charmed his friends and family until they were bigger fans of her than him. Not after seeing her eyes flash different shades of green when he hauled her out of the party. Especially, not after watching her dance in that revealing dress with his worthless brother. Shit, they’d practically had sex on the dance floor. Okay, maybe he was blowing that out of proportion. Regardless, that punk should know better than to be messing with Rico’s woman.
He was not sleeping alone tonight.
He’d bodily carry her into his house—and his bedroom—if that was what it took. He’d brand her with his body, stamp her as his. He’d be the only man she’d ever want after tonight. He’d make her as desperate for him as he was for her.
“I’m not staying in your house.”
He faked a cocky smile. “What’s the matter, baby? Afraid you’ll find me irresistible?” He needled her, allowing a smug, superior tone to creep into his voice.
Mariah’s eyes scanned the length of his body. “In those pants? What do you think?”
Rico laughed at her forthrightness, but anger still simmered below the surface. “I was hoping they’d have that effect on you.”
Mariah rubbed his thigh. “What am I going to do with you?” She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder.
“I could think of several things for starters.” His anger fizzled with her touch, and he found it difficult to stay mad at this woman. He’d been an ass and tried to pick a fight with her. Yet, she responded with affection. God, she drove him batshit crazy.
“I know you can. Please, Rico, take me to a hotel. I can’t do this. I can’t have sex with someone to have sex. I told you that I’m not good with casual sex. I get emotionally involved, and I’m still recovering.”
If he had a vote, she’d never recover. Her attempt to appeal to his basic sense of decency wouldn’t work either. He didn’t feel very decent tonight.
“I know a lot of women just jump in bed without any emotional ties. That’s not me. I wish it was, because I really would like nothing better than to go home with you tonight.”
“Then prove it to me, because it appeared you wanted to go home with Ramon. The guy was salivating at the thought of having you.” He clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on her, mad all over again.
Educating her had been one of the most pleasurable experiences of his life. It was his private pleasure, no one else’s but his. He was determined to keep it that way. How much he meant that surprised him. He didn’t want any other man to have her. Over his dead body would Ramon ever know the pleasure of feeling her sexy body underneath him. That little display tonight wouldn’t happen again.
“Rico, honestly, I just danced with him. He sang your song beautifully. I felt I owed him a dance. I had no idea you’d take it so seriously.”
“You never want to owe a guy like that anything, Mariah.”
“I was having a little fun. It didn’t mean anything. I don’t have a date with him for lunch, and I don’t have his phone number. I wanted to dance with you, but you left me alone.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I have no idea why I’m explaining my actions to you. It’s really none of your business.”
“Do you think he’s attractive?”
“Well, yeah, what woman wouldn’t? He looks just like you. But he’s much too young, and I don’t want to be with him.”
“Prove it. Tonight, Mariah. It has to be tonight.” He felt insecure and vulnerable and out of sorts. He’d sworn long ago that no one would ever put him in that position again, especially not a woman.
So what was he really pissed about? The fact that she’d been rubbing up against Ramon or that she gained enough confidence by the end of the evening that she hadn’t seemed to need him? He needed her to need him.
The limo wound up the steep road, taking them closer to home. Rico’s Malibu estate was perched high on the hillside with an expansive view of the surrounding countryside and the Pacific Ocean. The limo drove through the iron gates and parked under the Mediterranean mansion’s portico.
Rico glanced at Mariah. She looked confused and flustered. Good. She placed a hand on his arm. His entire body stiffened involuntarily under her touch.
“Tell me one thing. Is Rico Sanchez as good a lover as Rodrigo Perez?”
“Better.” His voice resonated with confidence he didn’t feel. He wasn’t leaving any room for an argument. Holding her hand, he helped her out of the limo and led her to the massive front door.
In the islands, Rico as Rodrigo had made love to her within her comfort zone. He’d strove to give her an enjoyable experience and to build her confidence. Rico’s intentions weren’t quite so honorable this time. He’d expand her limits. See what she could handle. Stretch her comfort zone even if it made her a little uneasy at first. He’d bungled things so badly where she was concerned, he’d assess the damage by testing the depths of her desire for him.
Would she give him everything if he asked for it? Would she give him a family, be faithful to him, and not betray him? Those questions seared through his mind like a wildfire across dry grass.
He frowned and wondered how he’d gotten into this so deeply.
* * *
Rico towed Mariah up the dark sweeping staircase, not bothering to turn on lights. She stumbled a few times, but he steadied her. Despite her feeble protests, she wanted to spend the night in bed with him.
Adios, and kiss her heart goodbye. The darn thing leapt right into his arms and snuggled down for the duration. Her head stood back and cursed her foolish heart. A lot of good it did, though. The man molded her like putty in his hands, and her power to resist evaporated in the warm California night.
The day’s events overwhelmed her. How much more could one girl take? She needed comfort and reassurance, yet the stiffness in his body indicated he wasn’t done being mad at her. He owed her an apology, several, in fact. Yet, she couldn’t muster enough self-righteous indignation to fight with him. He’d turned the tables on her, and she’d let him do it. Tomorrow when she recovered, she’d put him in his place.
He’d reacted like a jealous lover when he found her dancing with Ramon. In order to be jealous, a person needed to care.
Rico carried her into the huge master suite, impressive with the old Spanish antiques and dark rich colors. The room radiated masculinity and provided a comfortable refuge from the world. Rico put her down inside the door and kissed her tenderly on the lips. He broke the kiss and held her at arm’s length.
“Don’t move,” he ordered her gently.
He left her standing in the middle of the room. He took his time lighting candles which he magically found in the darkness of the unlit room. Mariah watched him, apprehensive but filled with anticipation. She’d break down that wall between the two of them if it took all night. Rico Sanchez would pay for all he’d put her through. He’d pay with the one thing that he never gave away—his heart. She wouldn’t take anything less.
After lighting several dozen candles, he dropped into a big overstuffed chair and removed his boots and socks. Unbuttoning his shirt, he pulled it off, carelessly throwing it on the floor, and sat back in a deceptively lazy manner.
Mariah stood in the middle of the room. Her gaze wandered down the length of him. Even in the candlelight, the tanned skin on his bare chest glowed golden. A trail of dark hair disappeared at the waistband of his pants. The unmistakable bulge below his waist drew her attention. Her body, trained by the master of seduction himself, reacted to his obvious arousal. Watching her, Rico stretched his long legs, opening them in a wide V to reward her with a better view. A wetness spread between her legs as her senses jumped to do his bidding.
The man smiled a knowing smile. Her eyes shifted downward again. She wanted her legs entwined with his. She wanted his chest hair tickling her breasts. She wanted him driving deep inside her. Oh God. She wanted so much more.
He cleared his throat. She averted her eyes to his face. He raised an eyebrow. She’d been caught red-handed thinking dirty thoughts about him.
“Mariah,” he said in a low, sexy voice with that accent that made her tremble. She started to take a step toward him.
He held a hand up to indicate he wanted her to stop. Bewildered, she stopped several feet from him.
“Strip for me, baby,” he ordered in a husky whisper. His brown eyes took a slow detour over her body on their way to meet her eyes. “Por favor.” His voice was now tender after seeing her discomfort.
“I—can’t.” Mariah pleaded with him.
“Yes, you can. When you enter this room, you leave your inhibitions outside that door.” His voice held an edge to it she’d never heard before. “Do this for me, Rye. Do this for Rico. You stripped for me when you thought I was just Rodrigo. Now, strip for me.” His eyes gleamed with anticipation and something else that gave her hope.
They locked eyes in a silent battle of wills. Mariah-putty-in-his-hands-Baker looked away first. She took a deep breath, feeling shy, self-conscious, and pissed. A smart woman would have walked out the door and never looked back. She couldn’t. Her feet weren’t interested in leaving.
Mariah slipped her fingers under the straps on her dress. Sliding them off her shoulders, she stopped before exposing her breasts. She glanced up at him through lowered lashes. Desire smoldered in his eyes, but not a smidgen of mercy. He nodded and made a downward motion with his hand, indicating he expected her to continue. With trembling fingers, she peeled the tight dress down past her erect nipples until it encircled her slim waist.
She heard Rico’s sharp inhalation as he gazed at her bare skin. Without looking up, she tugged the dress down past her hips and her thighs. She shook it off her legs, letting it drop to the floor. A scrap of lace and her spiked heels remained on her body as Mariah’s last stand.
He smiled appreciatively when she looked at him with an unspoken question in her eyes.
“Everything.” His voice caressed her. No woman could refuse him, least of all this woman. She spied on him through the curtain of her hair. Her fingers hooked on either sides of her underwear. He swallowed as she removed those little panties and stood before him in all her naked beauty.
“No, leave those,” he insisted when she started to take off her heels. She straightened “Don’t move. Let me enjoy the way the light plays on your body.”
Mariah stood still for an eternity as he studied her in the candlelight.
“Are you cold?” He must have noticed her trembling body and tight nipples.
She merely stared at him. Cold was the last thing she felt, and he knew it. His smile turned predatory.
“By the end of the night, you’ll forget Ramon’s name.”
“Rico....”
He interrupted her. “Turn around for me, bella. Slowly.”
She froze for a moment. Gathering her courage, she turned around. Not the least bit graceful, she executed a jerky 360 then turned back to face him. Her breasts rose and fell with each uneasy breath that she took. Rico licked his lips. She’d make him sorry for tormenting her like this, and what a sweet payback it would be.
Abruptly, he rose to his feet, speaking to her gently in Spanish and English. He approached her carefully as if afraid she’d bolt and run at any moment. She caught some of the words: Beautiful, my love, beautiful. Mine, only mine....
She didn’t move when he stopped inches from her. He cupped her chin in his hand and kissed her eyelids. His lips grazed hers but didn't linger. His bare chest rubbed against her breasts in a slow, sensuous motion. He placed his hands on her hips and slowly moved her backwards until the backs of her thighs bumped into the bed. He eased her down onto the mattress and stood back to admire her.
Mariah lay sprawled on the bed. She stared up at him. He didn’t look like her scruffy Rodrigo. No stubble on this man’s face. This Rico was a smooth, polished, well-dressed man who knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it. It was like sleeping with a stranger who wasn’t a stranger. She wanted to know this part of him, and yet she didn’t. Tonight he was Rico Sanchez. She saw it in his eyes and in the way he treated her, tested her.
He demanded she participate in what was happening. His expectations seemed to keep expanding, yet she’d met those expectations all night. She’d seen the proud and pleased looks that came her way from him throughout the evening. Then she’d seen the possessiveness flash in his eyes. When she’d danced with Ramon, possession turned to anger and something else. Was it hurt and betrayal she’d seen written across his face?
Rico kneeled on the mattress. Placing his hands under her arms, he slid her body upward until the pillows cradled her head. He spread her legs wide and knelt between her knees, taking in the sight of her. His eyes traveled down her body, past her small waist and hips and across her flat stomach and appeared to stick at a certain point between her legs. She couldn’t hide how much she wanted him. He moaned softly and looked up to meet her gaze.
She had him now.
“On your back, amigo. You’re still dressed.”
Much to her surprise, he complied, watching her with half-lidded eyes. She kissed a trail down his body, stroking him with her hands. “It's not fair that you still have your pants on. I want to see you.”
“Then do something about it.”
She’d do something about it a
ll right. She stuck her tongue in his navel, dragging a tortured groan from him. Her fingers slipped inside his pants. Using her teeth, she pulled down the zipper, taking her time.
“Dios,” His voice sounded strangled, like a man in pain; delicious, sweet, torturous pain. His cock sprang free from his tight pants. She sat back on her haunches to strip the expensive material from his thighs and discarded his pants with a flourish.
Mariah bent down on her hands and knees, purposely giving him a view of her butt in the air and her breasts rubbing against his inner thighs. Propping herself on one arm, she cupped his balls gently, stroking and caressing them. Rico swallowed, his breathing labored.
“No more,” he croaked. The next thing she knew, he flipped her on her back and hovered over her.
Her evil Gemini twin reared its horny head. She grinned wickedly. “What’s the matter, cowboy; can’t you take the heat?”
“No, I can’t.”
“The heat is right here.” He nudged her legs further apart with his knees and slipped a hand between their lower bodies. He teased just the right spot and was rewarded with a throaty whimper. As if satisfied she was ready for him, he poised his hard, throbbing cock at her warm, wet entrance.
“Have you had anyone since me?” His voice sounded strained from the effort to get the words out between his clenched teeth.
She stared at him and shook her head.
“Not even the football player?”
“No, not even the football player.”
If he only knew it’d been him and only him since she’d first met him.
* * *
The look in Mariah’s eyes made Rico’s heart race. How had he ever doubted her feelings for him? It was written so clearly on her face and in her expressive eyes.
She loved him.
Mariah moved underneath him, teasing him. He pinned her body with his so she couldn’t torment him and seize control. She arched her hips and ground them into his aching erection. Her strength surprised him. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist to position his body where she wanted it.
Save the Last Dance Page 24