‘Don’t.’
He gave her a hot, hard kiss, which dazzled her senses, and then he reared up, reached over and rummaged around in the drawer of his nightstand. Ogling his back, she heard the crinkle of a foil packet, the harsh hiss of breath, and then he came back to her, sliding her knickers down and off. She opened her legs wide and he settled between them, and as he crushed his mouth to hers he thrust into her with one long, hard stroke and the pleasure was so exquisite she nearly came right there and then.
Lodged deep inside her, he stilled, but she didn’t need time to adjust to him so she dug her fingers into the taut muscles of his buttocks to pull him in further and gave her hips a quick twist, which seemed to do the trick.
With a harsh groan he pulled out of her and then back in, and did it again and again, setting a rhythm that started off slow, drugging her with desire, but became harder and faster within seconds until her breath was coming in increasingly short, sharp pants. Her entire body was on fire and she could feel the tension coiling deep inside her, swelling and tightening, and just when she thought she couldn’t stand it any longer he kissed her hard, and suddenly she was flying apart, ecstasy exploding inside her like fireworks. With a great rough groan Rico thrust into her one last time, as deep as he could, and exploded, pulsating into her over and over again.
‘I thought you were supposed to be injured,’ she said once she’d regained enough breath to speak.
‘I believe I’ve made a miraculous recovery,’ he said, sounding as dazed as she was.
‘So it would seem,’ she said, feeling him twitch and harden inside her. ‘Which is a shame.’
‘Is it?’ he murmured, one dark eyebrow raised. ‘Why?’
‘I was going to offer to kiss you better.’
‘Well, you know, I’m not completely healed,’ he said with a slow, devastating smile.
‘Where do you hurt?’
‘Everywhere.’
CHAPTER TEN
THE ALARM THAT went off on the phone Rico had lent to Carla shattered the early-morning peace and jolted him out of the deepest sleep he’d had in years, which on the one hand was surprising when he usually slept fitfully, but on the other wasn’t, given that night had been making way for dawn by the time they had finally crashed out.
He’d never had a night like it, he thought, giving his eyes a quick rub and his body a stretch that made his muscles twinge. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the sight of Carla sidling up his stairs—his fantasy brought to life, only better—and then lying sprawled on his bed, a goddess of his very own in all her nearly naked perfection. Nor would he ever forget the scent and taste of her, spicy and sweet, or the wildness of her response.
For the briefest of moments it had struck him that he shouldn’t be sullying her perfection with all his flaws and the murky history of the things he’d done, but then she’d revealed how much she’d wanted him and his mind had gone blank. The minute he’d put his hands and mouth on her that had been that for rational thought. He’d been swamped with heat and desire and sensation and had had no sense of time.
Eventually, driven by hunger of an entirely different kind, he’d brought up the linguine from the night before, which they’d devoured before going for a late-night dip in the pool that had been less of a swim than a hot, wet tangle of limbs that had resulted in a lot of water being sloshed over the side.
He’d lost count of the number of orgasms he’d given and received. Even though he said it himself, for someone who’d recently had the kind of accident that required surgery and rehabilitation, his stamina had been impressive. But then, he’d had a powerful incentive. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed the sharp sensations that came with sex and the sweet oblivion that followed. How intensely he felt, how sensationally he came alive.
Not that he’d ever had sex like this. He’d never met anyone like Carla, who so easily matched his voracious demands and wasn’t afraid to make some of her own. He’d never experienced pleasure so great it blew the top of his head off.
It was a shame she was leaving. He wouldn’t mind some more, because instead of going away, as he’d idiotically assumed it would, his need for her had only got stronger. But she was leaving. And that was that.
Unless it wasn’t...
Maybe she didn’t have to go just yet, he thought, his pulse suddenly pounding, every muscle in his body tensing at the realisation that perhaps he could have more. Maybe she could stick around for a little while longer. Hadn’t she told him she’d arranged a week’s leave? Hadn’t she said she had no real plans? What if he asked her to stay? Not for ever, never that, but certainly until she had to return home to work.
If she said no, that would be that. After her revelations about her youth, there was no way in hell he’d try and manipulate her into changing her mind. He’d accept her decision with good grace, see her off and set about restarting his interrupted plan to get back to the life he’d had prior to his accident.
But he badly hoped she’d say yes, because he wasn’t ready to let her go.
* * *
With the echo of the alarm still ringing in her ears, Carla shifted and yawned, achingly aware of the devastatingly talented man lying beside her, who’d taken her to heaven and back several times over the course of yesterday afternoon and last night. She opened her eyes to find him propped up on an elbow, watching her with an expression that was as unfathomable as it was intense, and gave him an unstoppable smile.
‘Buon giorno,’ he said, his sleep-roughened voice sending shivers rippling through her and bringing with it a hot flurry of scorchingly vivid memories of everything they’d done together.
‘I don’t know about that,’ she murmured, feeling herself flush and stamping down hard on the regret that they wouldn’t be doing any of it again. ‘It’s horrendously early. But I should start packing. My flight leaves in less than two hours.’
‘Stay.’
At the huskily uttered word—not quite a suggestion, not quite a demand—Carla went very still. ‘What?’