Rounding a corner, she caught sight of the press coach again and began to jog. Her breath hitched in her throat as she stopped to listen. Was that a twig snapping behind her? Her heart was hammering so violently it was hard to tell. Focusing her gaze on the press coach, with its halo of aerials and satellite dishes, she fumbled for the key, wanting to have it ready in her hand—and cried out with shock as a man’s hand seized her wrist.
His other hand snatched hold of her camera. Reacting purely on instinct, she launched a stinging roundhouse kick—only to have her ankle captured in an iron grip.
‘Good, but not good enough,’ Kruz Acosta ground out.
Rammed up hard against the motorcoach, with Kruz’s head in her face, it was hard for Romy to disagree. In the unforgiving flesh, Kruz made the evidence of her camera lens seem pallid and insubstantial. He was hard like rock, and so close she could see the flecks of gold in his fierce black eyes, as well as the cynical twist on his mouth. While their gazes were locked he brought her camera strap down, inch by taunting inch, until finally he removed it from her arm and placed it on the ground behind him.
‘No,’ he said softly when she glanced at it.
She still made a lunge, which he countered effortlessly. Flipping her to the ground, he stood back. Rolling away, she sprang up, assuming a defensive position with her hands clenched into angry fists, and demanded that he give it up.
Kruz Acosta merely raised a brow.
‘I said—’
‘I heard what you said,’ he said quietly.
He was even more devastating at short range. She rubbed her arm as she stared balefully. He hadn’t hurt her. He had branded her with his touch.
A shocked cry sprang from her lips when he seized hold of her again. His reach was phenomenal. His grip like steel. He made no allowance for the fact that she was half his size, so now every inch of her was rammed up tight against him, and when she fought him he just laughed, saying, ‘Is that all you’ve got?’
She staggered as Kruz thrust her away. She felt humiliated as well as angry. Now he’d had a chance to take a better look at her he wasn’t impressed. And why would he be?
‘How does a member of the paparazzi get in here?’
Kruz was playing with her, she suspected. ‘I’m not paparazzi. I’m on the staff at ROCK!’
‘My apologies.’ He made her a mocking bow. ‘So you’re a fully paid-up member of the paparazzi. With your own executive office, I presume?’
‘I have a very nice office, as it happens,’ she lied. He was making her feel hot and self-conscious. She was used to being in control. It was going too far to say that amongst photojournalists she was accorded a certain respect, but she certainly wasn’t used to being talked down to by men.
‘So as well as being an infamous photojournalist and an executive at ROCK! magazine,’ Kruz mocked, ‘I now discover that the infamous Romy Winner is an expert kick-boxer.’
Her cheeks flushed red. Not so expert, since he’d blocked her first move.
‘I suppose kick-boxing is a useful skill when it comes to gate-crashing events you haven’t been invited to?’ Kruz suggested.
‘It’s one of my interests—and just as well with men like you around—’
‘Men like me?’ he said, holding her angry stare. ‘Perhaps you and I should get on the mat in the gym sometime.’
‘Over my dead body,’ she fired back.
His look suggested he expected her to blink, or flinch, or even lower her gaze in submission. She did none of those things, though she did find herself staring at his lips. Kruz had the most amazing mouth—hard, yet sensual—and she couldn’t help wondering what it would feel like to be kissed by him, though she had a pretty good idea...
An idea that was ridiculous! It wouldn’t happen this side of hell. Kruz was one of the beautiful people—the type she liked to look at through her lens much as a wildlife photographer might observe a tiger, without having the slightest intention of touching it. Instead of drooling over him like some lovesick teenager it was time to put him straight.
‘Kick-boxing is great for fending off unwanted advances—’
‘Don’t flatter yourself, Romy.’
Kruz’s eyes had turned cold and she shivered involuntarily. There was no chance of getting her camera back now. He was good, economical with his movements, and he was fast.
Who knew what he was like as a lover...?
Thankfully she would never find out. All that mattered now was getting her camera back.
Darting round him, she tried to snatch it—and was totally unprepared for Kruz whipping the leather jacket from her shoulders. Underneath it she was wearing a simple white vest. No bra. She hardly needed one. Her cheeks fired up when he took full inventory of her chest. She could imagine the kind of breasts Kruz liked, and perversely wished she had big bouncing breasts to thrust in his face—if only to make a better job of showing her contempt than her embarrassingly desperate nipples were doing right now, poking through her flimsy top to signal their sheer, agonising frustration.
‘Still want to take me on?’ he drawled provocatively.
‘I’m sure I could make some sort of dent in your ego,’ she countered, crossing her arms over her chest. She circled round him. ‘All I want is my property back.’ She glanced at the camera, lying just a tantalising distance away.
‘So what’s on this camera that you’re so keen for me not to see?’ He picked it up. ‘You can collect it in the morning, when I’ve had a chance to evaluate your photographs.’
‘It’s my work, and I need to edit it—’
‘Your unauthorised work,’ he corrected her.
There was no point trying to reason with this man. Action was the only option.
One moment she was diving for the camera, and the next Kruz had tumbled her to the ground.
‘Now, what shall I do with you?’ he murmured, his warm, minty breath brushing her face.
With Kruz pinning her to the ground, one powerful thigh planted either side of her body, her options were limited—until he yanked her onto a soft bed of grass at the side of the cinder path. Then they became boundless. The grass felt like damp ribbons beneath her skin, and she could smell the rising sap where she had crushed it. Overlaying that was the heat of a powerful, highly sexed, highly aroused man.
She should try to escape. She should put up some sort of token struggle, at least. She should remember her martial arts training and search for a weakness in Kruz to exploit.
She did none of those things. And as for that potential weakness—as it turned out it was one they shared.
As she reached up to push him away Kruz swooped down. Ravishing her mouth was a purposeful exercise, and one at which he excelled. For a moment she was too stunned to do anything, and then the sensation of being possessed, entered, controlled and plundered, even if it was only her mouth, by a man with whom she had been having fantasy sex for quite a few hours, sent her wild with excitement. She even groaned a complaint when he pulled away, and was relieved to find it was only to remove his jacket.
For such a big man Kruz went about his business with purpose and speed. His natural athleticism, she supposed, feeling her body heat, pulse and melt at the thought of being thoroughly pleasured by him. Growing up with a pillow over her head to shut out the violence at home had left her a stranger to romance and tenderness. Given a choice, she preferred to observe life through her camera lens, but when an opportunity for pleasure presented itself she seized it, enjoyed it, and moved on. She wasn’t about to turn down this opportunity.
Pleasure with no curb or reason? Pleasure without thought of consequence?
Correct, she informed her inner critic firmly. Even the leisurely way Kruz was folding his jacket and putting it aside was like foreplay. He was so sexy. His powerful body was sexy—his hands were sexy�
�the wide spread of his shoulders was sexy—his shadowy face was sexy.
Kruz’s confidence in her unquestioning acceptance of everything that was about to happen was so damn sexy she could lose control right now.
A life spent living vicariously through a camera lens was ultimately unsatisfactory, while this unexpected encounter was proving to be anything but. A rush of lust and longing gripped her as he held her stare. The look they exchanged spoke about need and fulfilment. It was explicit and potent. She broke the moment of stillness. Ripping off his shirt, she sent buttons flying everywhere. Yanking the fabric from the waistband of his pants, she tossed it away, exclaiming with happy shock as bespoke tailoring yielded to hard, tanned flesh. This was everything she had ever dreamed of and more. Liberally embellished with tattoos and scars, Kruz’s torso was outstanding. She could hardly breathe for excitement when he found the button on her jeans and quickly dealt with it. He quickly got them down. In comparison, her own fingers felt fat and useless as she struggled with the buckle on his belt.
‘Let me help you.’
Kruz held her gaze with a mocking look as he made this suggestion. It was all the aphrodisiac she needed. She cried out with excitement when his thumbs slipped beneath the elastic on her flimsy briefs to ease them down her hips. His big hands blazed a trail of fire everywhere they touched. She couldn’t bear the wait when he paused to protect them both, but it was a badly needed wake-up call. The fact that this man had thought of it before she had went some way to reminding her how far she’d travelled from the safe shores she called home.
Her body overruled the last-minute qualms. Her body was one hundred per cent in favour of what was coming. Even her tiny breasts felt swollen and heavy, while her nipples were cheekily pert and obscenely hard, and the carnal pulse throbbing insistently between her legs demanded satisfaction.
Kruz had awakened such an appetite inside her she wouldn’t be human if she didn’t want to discover what sex could be like with someone who really knew what he was doing. She was about to find out. When Kruz stretched his length against her she could feel his huge erection, heavy and hard against her leg. And that look in his eyes—that slumberous, confident look. It told her exactly what he intended to do with her and just how much she was going to enjoy it. And, in case she was in any doubt, he now spelled out his intentions in a few succinct words.
She gasped with excitement. With hardly any experience of dating, and even less of foreplay, she was happy to hear that nothing was about to change.
CHAPTER TWO
SHE EXCLAIMED WITH shock when Kruz eased inside her. She was ready. That wasn’t the problem. Kruz was the problem. He was huge.
Built to scale.
She should have known.
Her breath came in short, shocked whimpers, pain and pleasure combined. It was a relief when he took his time and didn’t rush her. She began to relax.
This was good... Yes, better than good...
Releasing the shaking breath from her lungs, she silently thanked him for giving her the chance to explore such incredible sensation at her leisure. Leisure? The brief plateau lasted no more than a few seconds, then she was clambering all over him as a force swept them into a world where moving deeper, harder, rougher, fast and furious, was more than an imperative: it was essential to life.
‘You okay?’ Kruz asked, coming down briefly to register concern as she screamed wildly and let go.
It seemed for ever before she could answer him, and then she wasn’t sure she said anything that made sense.
‘A little better, at least?’ he suggested with amusement when she quietened.
‘Not that much better,’ she argued, blatantly asking for more.
Taking his weight on his arms, Kruz stared down at her.
It didn’t get much better than this, Romy registered groggily, lost in pleasure the instant he began to move. She loved his hard, confident mouth. She loved the feeling of being full and ready to be sated. She even loved her grassy bed, complete with night sounds: cicadas chirruping and an owl somewhere in the distance hooting softly. Kruz’s clean, musky scent was in her nostrils, and when she turned her head, groaning in extremes of pleasure, her bed of grass added a piquant tang to an already intoxicating mix. She was floating on sensation, hardly daring to move in case she fell too soon. She didn’t want it to end, but Kruz was too experienced and made it really hard to hold on. Moving persuasively from side to side, he pushed her little by little, closer to the edge.
‘Good?’ he said, staring down, mocking her with his confident smile.
‘Very good,’ she managed on a shaking breath.
And then he did something that lifted her onto an even higher plane of sensation. Slowly withdrawing, he left her trembling and uncertain, before slowly thrusting into her again. Whatever she had imagined before was eclipsed by this intensity of feeling. It was like the first time all over again, except now she was so much more receptive and aroused. She couldn’t hold back, and shrieked as she fell, shouting his name as powerful spasms gripped her.
When she finally relaxed what she realised was her pincer grip on Kruz’s arms, she realised she had probably bruised him. He was holding her just as firmly, but with more care. She loved his firm grip on her buttocks, his slightly callused hands rough on her soft skin.
‘I can’t,’ she protested as he began to move again. ‘I truly can’t.’
‘There’s no such word as can’t,’ he whispered.
Incredibly, he was right. It didn’t seem possible that she had anything left, but when Kruz stared deep into her eyes it was as if he was instructing her that she must give herself up to sensation. There was no reason to disobey and she tumbled promptly, laughing and crying with surprise as she fell again.
It turned out to be just the start of her lessons in advanced lovemaking. Pressing her knees back, Kruz stared down. Now she discovered that she loved to watch him watching her. Lifting herself up, she folded her arms behind her head so she had a better view. Nothing existed outside this extreme pleasure. Kruz had placed himself at her disposal, and to reward him she pressed her legs as wide as they would go. He demanded all her concentration as he worked steadily and effectively on the task in hand.
‘You really should try holding on once in a while,’ he said, smiling against her mouth.
‘Why?’ she whispered back.
‘Try it and you’ll find out,’ he said.
‘Will you teach me?’ Her heart drummed at the thought.
‘Perhaps,’ Kruz murmured.
He wasn’t joking, Romy discovered as Kruz led her through a lengthy session of tease and withdraw until her body was screaming for release.
‘Greedy girl,’ he murmured with approval. ‘Again?’ he suggested, when finally he allowed her to let go.
Bracing her hands against his chest, she smiled into his eyes. For a hectic hook-up this was turning into a lengthy encounter, and she hadn’t got a single complaint. Kruz was addictive. The pleasure he conjured was amazing. But—
‘What?’ he said as she turned her head away from him.
‘Nothing.’ She dismissed the niggle hiding deep in her subconscious.
‘You think too much,’ he said.
‘Agreed,’ she replied, dragging in a fast breath as he began to move again.
Kruz didn’t need to ask if she wanted more; the answer was obvious to both of them. Gripping his iron buttocks, she urged him on as he set up a drugging beat. Tightening her legs around his waist, she moved with him—harder—faster—giving as good as she got, and through it all Kruz maintained
eye contact, which was probably the biggest turn-on of all, because he could see where she was so quickly going. Holding her firmly in place, he kept her in position beneath him, and when the storm rose he judged each thrust to perfection. Pushing her knees apart, he made sure they both had an excellent view, and now even he was unable to hold on, and roared with pleasure as he gave in to violent release.
She went with him, falling gratefully into a vortex of sensation from which there was no escape. It was only when she came to that she realised fantasy had in no way prepared her for reality—her fantasies were wholly selfish, and Kruz had woken something inside her that made her care for him just a little bit. It was a shame he didn’t feel the same. Now he was sated she sensed a core of ice growing around him. It frightened her, because she was feeling emotional for the first time with a man. And now he was pulling back—emotionally, physically.
No wonder that niggle of unease had gripped her, Romy reflected. She was playing well out of her league. As if to prove this, Kruz was already on his feet, pulling on his clothes. He buckled his belt as if it were just another day at the office. She might have laughed under other circumstances when he was forced to tug the edges of his shirt together where she had ripped the buttons off. He did no more than hide the evidence of her desperation beneath his tie. How could he be so chillingly unfazed by all this? Her unease grew at the thought that what had just happened between them had made a dangerously strong impression on her, while it appeared to have washed over Kruz.
Taming the Last AcostaItalian Boss, Proud Miss Prim Page 2