Lily lifted her head from Rico’s chest. “When you say I’m beautiful, you mean my voice?”
“Any man with eyes can see you’re stunning, Lily. But...” He shrugged. “Pretty does not mean so much to me. I have been loved too many times for this face alone. In the end, the love is as lasting as this face will be. What is in a person’s heart is what counts. And in your heart, Lilita, is beautiful music.”
Lily trailed her fingers down his cheek. The night stubble scraped her skin and made her shiver. She’d once dreamed of a man who could see the woman she wanted to be. Rico had seen the woman still trapped within her soul.
He captured her fingers, pressing a burning kiss to the center of her palm.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
His dark head tilted. “¿Que?”
“That I said you were useless. You’re the best manager I’ve ever seen.”
He shrugged off her praise as if embarrassed. “You do not need to apologize for what you believed as the truth. I had no skills past the knife and a certain flare as a lover. I have learned much from Yvonne, the girls, and you. Do not feel bad. You are not the only one who sees me as a child who cannot grow up.”
She slipped her free hand behind his head and drew his mouth even closer. “I don’t see you as a child. I never did.”
“Gracias,” he murmured, right before his lips touched hers.
Whoever had taught him to kiss had done their job well. He gave, took, advanced, retreated, soft to hard, gentle over rough. Seduction. Kissing Rico was addictive and could quickly become as necessary as breakfast, as right as anything Lily had ever known.
Her knees weak, she wished she could sink onto the plank stage and pull him with her, but she wasn’t so far gone she didn’t realize how dangerous that would be. His arms came about her back and pulled her close so she did not have to struggle to stay afoot.
As his body had only moments ago, his tongue now danced with hers. He tasted of coffee and whiskey, shiny morning, dark of night. Her skin tingled cool as her blood ran hot. Her breasts seemed to swell against the low-cut neckline of her gown, and her nipples hardened and scraped against her corset. Lower, deeper, her body softened and wept for his. This from a single kiss that went on and on.
“Upstairs,” she managed when they came up for air.
He leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. The dark sweep of his lashes across his high cheekbones made him look young and innocent, as sweet as sin must be.
“Lilita, we should not.”
“Should,” she countered. “Now.”
He laughed, a tight, pained sound. “You wish to kill me.” His eyes opened, and humor shone in their depths. “I would die happy, si?”
“I hope so.” She brushed his hair away from his face, which took on a bewildered look, as if he did not know what to make of her gentleness. Her heart ached for the man who’d been used nearly as much as she had. “I hurt you before, and I didn’t mean to. I want you. You want me. Can’t we just have this?”
“What is this?” His expression, so earnest and intense, begged for the truth, or as much truth as she could give.
“Don’t touch me so I’ll sing. I won’t let you so I can eat.”
“Ah, Lily.”
“Shh.” She put her fingers against his lips. “Promise?”
He linked their hands together. “Si. Don’t touch me because of this.” He put a finger to his cheek. “I won’t let you because I’m so lonely I could die of it. Promise?”
“Oui,” she whispered. “Rico, I have never been with anyone because I wanted to be, but I want to be with you.”
A tenderness came over his face that touched her as deeply as the awe in his voice. “You honor me.”
No one had ever looked at her like that before. “We owe each other nothing. We expect nothing from each other beyond this. I want to laugh and make love and live.”
“I am very good at all three.”
“Teach me to be, too. Teach me something good.”
“You have come to the right man.”
“I think I’ve known that for a while now.”
“Upstairs?”
The weight on her chest—of survival, responsibility, fear—lifted. A sudden lightness of being put a skip in her step as she kicked off her shoes and jumped off the stage.
“I’ll race you,” she threw over her shoulder, and hurried up the stairs.
To her room she ran. Her own terms, her own place. Despite her lead, he was right on her heels as she sped through the door.
Breathless, flushed, excited, she spun about at the foot of the bed. The door clicked shut. He flicked the lock.
Expecting him to come barreling across the room, tumble her onto the bed, and get down to business, she was surprised when he stayed right where he was, shrugging free of his vest and letting the garment slide down his arms to the floor.
His long, dark fingers, stark against the white cotton, with seductive lassitude he unbuttoned his shirt. A shrug of each lean, well-formed shoulder and the white shirt joined the vest at his feet.
Lily’s heart had slowed from her run, but she still breathed as heavily as if she’d just gone up the stairs three times with her corset laced too tightly. She’d thought this man dangerous with a knife? He was ever so much more dangerous with a shirt—and without.
His bronzed skin glistened in the lamplight that flickered from the bedside table. Lily licked her lips, imagining how he might taste. That she would soon know only made her all the more breathless.
Those nimble fingers moved to the buttons on his trousers. Releasing the first, then the second, he revealed that beneath the tight black material lay only him. Or perhaps lay was not the right word. The sight of his arousal straining beneath the confining buttons made her itch to set him free.
He drew one finger along his own length then pointed at her. “Now you.”
The whisper swirled about the room. “D-don’t you want to undress me?”
His smile was as languid as his hands. “Half the fun, Lilita, is the watching.”
Perhaps. But she did not think she could undress half as erotically as he had, and she did not want to disappoint.
Her uncertainty must have shown, for he made a tsking sound. “It does not matter how you reveal yourself, only that you do. The first step in this act we have decided to undertake begins with trust. I trust you enough to show myself as I am. Show me yourself. I will not hurt you.”
In his eyes she saw both vulnerability and strength. She reached for the pins in her hair.
He held up his hand. “Leave the hair for me. As I have left something for you.”
He winked, and she couldn’t help but smile despite her nervousness. How could a woman like her, who had taken her first lover at fifteen in order to survive, feel as if she’d never done this before? Because she had never done this.
She released the buttons on the back of her dress and pulled the ivory silk down her arms.
“Slowly,” he breathed.
Once freed, the weight of the garment swished past her hips, pooling about her feet. She stepped over the pile and kicked it beneath the bed, something she’d never do on a normal night. But nothing about this night had been normal.
Only her corset, garters, and stockings remained. “No chemise?” he asked. “Such a rebel.”
“It spoiled the line of the dress.”
“I am so glad.” He motioned for her to continue. “The stockings, por favor?”
Removing the derringer was always a trick. With Rico watching her so intently, Lily fumbled. His hands covered hers. How could he appear both gentle and fierce at the same time?
“Let me,” he murmured. “Before you blow off your pretty toe.”
He released the weapon then stepped back. But when she bent to unroll the stockings, her corset sliced into her belly, and she took a sharp breath.
“What is it?”
“I can’t bend in the corset.”
&n
bsp; “Such silly clothes women wear.”
“You won’t get an argument from me.”
“Let me,” he repeated.
He knelt in front of her, and as his fingers brushed her thigh, as his breath brushed her where she was pretty hot already, arousal ripped through her. She clutched his shoulders.
“Perhaps slow is not the best idea.”
She could only shrug helplessly, uncertain of what she wanted or how she wanted it, because she could no longer think at all.
Smoothing his palms down first one leg, then the other, he tossed her stockings after the dress. But instead of gaining his feet, he put his mouth where his fingers had been—lips along her knee, a wet slide of tongue to the inside of her thigh, then an openmouthed suckle where her leg joined her hip. No one on earth had ever kissed her there.
“Can’t breathe.” Her voice was not her own.
“Hush, bambina. I will make it all right.”
He removed her corset as if he removed them every day. Most likely he did, but she would not think of that now, could not think of anything but his kissing her in all the places she’d never been kissed before.
Weak and dizzy, when he pushed her back on the bed, she went. She was completely naked, while he still wore his pants. But as she tugged at the waistband, he stilled her searching fingers. “Not yet. Fast for you, then slow for me.”
She had no idea what he meant until his lips closed on the tip of her breast, and he drew in, tongue pushing on the underside, suckling, making her need... more.
He was everywhere at once, mouth here, fingers there, the brush of his chin hard, the drift of his hair so soft. His teeth along her hipbone made her arch, and when he fastened his mouth where everything screamed for him, she stopped breathing.
She started again with a French curse, and he laughed against her skin. Something wonderful lay just beyond a peak she could see very clearly behind her closed eyelids.
When she would have thrashed, his large hands closed over her hips, and his smart mouth worked witchcraft, bringing her to a gasping, shuddering climax—another place she had never been before.
He slid up the bed and lay at her side, holding her hand as she came back from the fall. When she opened her eyes, he watched her, and she was surprised to discover she didn’t mind.
“What was that?” she asked.
“Didn’t you want me to teach you something good?”
“I think I missed part of the lesson.”
He removed the remaining pins from her hair, brushing the rest of them off the bed. “Shall we run through it more slowly this time?”
She placed her fingers on the third button of his trousers. “If you can manage.”
“I thought I was the best manager you’d ever seen.”
She freed buttons three, four, and five, then tossed his trousers to keep company with her dress.
* * *
Rico had never been nervous in a woman’s company. Why now, when he’d gained entrance to a bed he’d wanted far longer than he’d wanted any other, did he tremble?
Because he’d claimed incredible prowess and now he must produce? He had no one to blame but himself. Braggarts were often called upon to live up to their big mouths, or other parts, as the case might be.
Lily’s hand closed around him, and he jumped. “Shh,” she murmured against his chest. “Let me soothe that ego.”
Incredibly, he laughed. She joined in, her chuckles spouting tiny bursts of air against his sensitive skin. The lightness in her eyes made him happy. He’d rarely seen anything but worry there.
“I’ve never laughed like this,” she said.
“You should more often.”
“I never thought sex was very funny.”
“I suspect most men would not be too happy to have their lover laugh.”
“You don’t seem to mind.”
“I do not think you are laughing at me.”
“And if I was?”
He rolled her body flush with his. “I would make you stop.”
She arched, pressing his arousal to her stomach. “I don’t feel like laughing so much anymore.”
His smile was one of satisfaction as he lowered his mouth to hers. Why had he said they would go slow for him? He didn’t think he could wait. Not after tasting her, touching her, hearing her laughter, experiencing her every response as if it were his own.
One of the reasons he was very good at sex was that he cared as much, if not more, about his partner’s pleasure as his own. To be honest, men needed very little in the way of stimulation to find release. Women were another matter. Discovering what caused a female to writhe and beg beneath him made his own fulfillment that much deeper.
He wanted to make Lily’s time with him memorable. From the way she’d behaved before, the surprise on her face, the wonder in her voice, she had never been with a man the way she was now with him. For Lily, men had never given, only taken. Men like those gave all the rest a very bad name.
Knowing he was the first to show her such magic made him gentler than usual, as if she were a virgin in body as well as soul. He would not take her inner innocence by rushing or blundering or thinking of himself when this was about her. He would be her first in a way no one else could ever be, and he wanted the memory to be as beautiful for her as it already was for him.
He always took a long, long time to ascertain each and every one of a woman’s favorite, secret places. He would take even longer with Lily.
He spread her black hair like a fan across the white sheets. She reached for him again, but he circled each of her wrists with his own, then pinned her arms next to her head.
“What are you doing?”
He glanced quickly into her face. She wasn’t frightened, only confused. “I like to look as well as touch.”
Using one hand to hold her wrists, he ran his other down the length of her. “So soft,” he marveled. “So white and smooth. All curves and sweet-smelling skin.”
His palm swept up her belly, cupped the weight of each breast, lifted one to his mouth for a taste, then another. He learned her body all over again; he did not release her until her breath was as ragged as her voice when she moaned his name. Her fingers fluttered over his back, tickling, teasing; his own breathing harshened.
He’d been hard for an hour. Hell, he’d been hard for weeks. His control was excellent, but it was slipping.
He ached to bury himself within her body, hold himself there while her soft folds squeezed him, then milked him dry. Instead, he brushed his swollen length against her, taunting them both with what was yet to come.
Rolling her atop him, he filled his hands with her breasts. Her hair curtained them, brushed against his chest, made him grit his teeth against the pulse in his groin. She was lost in the sensation. Her hands kneaded his shoulders; her body tightened along his. He grasped her hips and lifted her onto his length.
Her eyes flew open. “Oh, my.”
She’d never done this, either? If he hadn’t been focused on keeping himself in control until she found fulfillment, he might have taken time to curse the idiots of the world. When a woman rode a man, controlling the pace and the depth of their joining, it was one of the most pleasurable experiences to be found. He’d heard some men did not like to be dominated in that way, but he wasn’t one of them.
He let her take command, do what she wished with him. Quickly, she found her rhythm; he made it his, then theirs. He wanted to watch her face as she came apart, so he twisted her hair around his wrist to keep the riotous curls from obscuring his vision. Her breath hitched; her pace became frenzied.
“Look at me,” he said.
She was lost; she did not hear him. Clasping her hips, he stilled her movements until her eyes focused on him.
He raised his body, changing the angle, deepening the thrust, and she clasped his shoulders, face-to-face, body-to-body, soul-to-soul, for a single instant.
“Rico,” she said, the word as sharp as a curse.
�
�Not yet,” he muttered. “Wait.” He thrust. “Wait.” Again, he arched.
Her body convulsed. “Now,” she demanded.
He could no longer stop himself from completion. As he emptied himself into her, the waves of pleasure spurred hers on and on, so that when they were both spent, they could do nothing but tumble limply back on the bed, a tangle of limbs, hair, and sheets. Her fingers twined with his, and he found her staring at him.
“Thank you,” she whispered, and his stomach fluttered.
He didn’t want her gratitude. He wasn’t sure what he wanted anymore.
“For what?”
“For showing me something better than good. I’ll never forget this. Or you.”
She already spoke as if this were the last time. He knew that wasn’t what he wanted.
“You asked if we could just have this. We can. For as long as you want.”
“As long as I want?” Her lips curved, but the smile didn’t meet her eyes.
“Si.”
She brushed the hair from his face with a tender gesture. “I know how this works. Men leave when a better offer comes along.”
“Where would I go? What better offer can there be for a man like me than this town, this place, and a woman like you?”
“I understand the way life is.”
“You didn’t understand the way sex was, and I taught you differently. If you give me a chance, I’ll show you I’m not a man who leaves.”
She didn’t look convinced. “So what are you saying? You love me? You want to be together forever?”
Though her words were sarcastic and sharp, he thought he saw a shadow of hope deep in her eyes. He could have her right where he wanted her if he told her that he loved her. But he wasn’t sure what love was, and he found that though he’d lied to countless women in his life, he could not lie to this one.
“I’m not sure if I love you, Lily.”
She blinked as if he’d surprised her. She’d expected the lie. “Love is only a word, Rico. Something men use to get what they want. I’ve known that all my life. I appreciate that you didn’t use the tired old lie with me.”
He didn’t think he’d ever met a woman who didn’t believe in love. Of course, he’d never met a woman who would pick up a snake wearing only her corset, either.
Rico (The Rock Creek Six Book 3) Page 13