a short-lived second before his tongue hungrily invaded the hot purse of the sweetest silken mouth he’d ever tasted. He devoured it like a pauper at a banquet.
Arching her body to get closer, she feathered soft little gasps of pleasure over him, and as he pressed her deep down into the mattress she matched every groan and feverish demand he was meting out with equal ardour. Her small hands urgently pushed at his sweater, in search of the warm hard flesh underneath, and she tangled her long bare legs with his still jean-clad ones.
Rodrigo was left in no doubt that they were of a single mind. Sweeping the counterpane aside so he could join her in bed, he shucked off his expensive Italian loafers, jettisoned his sweater, and repositioned himself on top of her. Then he feverishly manoeuvred Jenny’s simple white nightgown up over her pale thighs until his palms located her firmly defined satin hipbones. Stilling for just a moment, he unzipped his fly.
It was as if he’d left his mind at the door. Pure, undiluted primal desire was what was driving him—desire sharpened into dizzying focus by Jenny’s seductive hot mouth brushing against his over and over. Her hands were moulding themselves to his jean-clad rear as she impelled him urgently towards her.
‘You have bewitched me without even trying,’ he breathed against her ear, and then, freeing himself, he inserted his hard aching shaft deeply between her slender thighs in a long shattering thrust. Secluded by the semi-dark, they stared back at each other in mutual wonderment.
If this was a dream then Jenny wanted it to go on for ever…It was true she had been lost in the most delicious sensual fantasy about Rodrigo when she’d sensed him lift her up from the couch. The warm, woody scent of him along with the colossal strength in his arms had made that fantasy blossom into the most vividly detailed erotic sequence she could have imagined.
Then she had opened her eyes, felt his warm breath on her face, and been so transfixed by the most tempting magnetic sea of ebony silk that she hadn’t had a prayer of resisting.
She could fool herself by pretending she was delirious because of her illness, or that as a result of her fever she wasn’t yet in her right mind—but both would be a lie. Jenny knew exactly what she was doing—and why. She wanted Rodrigo more than she’d ever wanted him. Two years apart hadn’t quelled that desire.
The Spaniard had intoxicated her senses from the moment he’d stepped up to her at the Savoy and so charmingly asked to know her name and if she’d like to have dinner with him. And when he’d stepped into Lily’s guesthouse from out of the rain and then come to her rescue when she’d fallen ill—well…she was so drunk on whatever magic he’d conjured up that she could barely think straight. Even in the throes of raging fever she’d ached to be loved by him once more. Now she had her wish.
Although Rodrigo’s kisses were greedily burning, he gulped at her as if he was drinking from the rejuvenating crystal waters of a life-giving well—as if every taste of her was too precious to spill even a drop. Moving deeply inside her, his magnificently taut male body rocked Jenny to the furthest reaches of her soul. He’d helped take care of her when illness had struck her down, even postponing his meeting. He had never done that before. Now, incredibly, he was meeting another great need. A need to be held and loved by him once again—a need that she’d feared would never be met again.
Rodrigo had talked about maintaining distance as friends…Surely he couldn’t want to put distance between them a second time after a union as profoundly magnetic and unforgettable as this?
Cupping her hands round his arrow-straight hips, Jenny took him even deeper, locking her legs round his hard-muscled back. ‘Is this good for you?’ she breathed, catching a glimmer of surprise in his eyes.
‘Is this good ? You underestimate your powers of
Arching her body to get closer, she feathered soft little gasps of pleasure over him, and as he pressed her deep down into the mattress she matched every groan and feverish demand he was meting out with equal ardour. Her small hands urgently pushed at his sweater, in search of the warm hard flesh underneath, and she tangled her long bare legs with his still jean-clad ones.
Rodrigo was left in no doubt that they were of a single mind. Sweeping the counterpane aside so he could join her in bed, he shucked off his expensive Italian loafers, jettisoned his sweater, and repositioned himself on top of her. Then he feverishly manoeuvred Jenny’s simple white nightgown up over her pale thighs until his palms located her firmly defined satin hipbones. Stilling for just a moment, he unzipped his fly.
It was as if he’d left his mind at the door. Pure, undiluted primal desire was what was driving him—desire sharpened into dizzying focus by Jenny’s seductive hot mouth brushing against his over and over. Her hands were moulding themselves to his jean-clad rear as she impelled him urgently towards her.
‘You have bewitched me without even trying,’ he breathed against her ear, and then, freeing himself, he inserted his hard aching shaft deeply between her slender thighs in a long shattering thrust. Secluded by the semi-dark, they stared back at each other in mutual wonderment.
If this was a dream then Jenny wanted it to go on for ever…It was true she had been lost in the most delicious sensual fantasy about Rodrigo when she’d sensed him lift her up from the couch. The warm, woody scent of him along with the colossal strength in his arms had made that fantasy blossom into the most vividly detailed erotic sequence she could have imagined.
Then she had opened her eyes, felt his warm breath on her face, and been so transfixed by the most tempting magnetic sea of ebony silk that she hadn’t had a prayer of resisting.
She could fool herself by pretending she was delirious because of her illness, or that as a result of her fever she wasn’t yet in her right mind—but both would be a lie. Jenny knew exactly what she was doing—and why. She wanted Rodrigo more than she’d ever wanted him. Two years apart hadn’t quelled that desire.
The Spaniard had intoxicated her senses from the moment he’d stepped up to her at the Savoy and so charmingly asked to know her name and if she’d like to have dinner with him. And when he’d stepped into Lily’s guesthouse from out of the rain and then come to her rescue when she’d fallen ill—well…she was so drunk on whatever magic he’d conjured up that she could barely think straight. Even in the throes of raging fever she’d ached to be loved by him once more. Now she had her wish.
Although Rodrigo’s kisses were greedily burning, he gulped at her as if he was drinking from the rejuvenating crystal waters of a life-giving well—as if every taste of her was too precious to spill even a drop. Moving deeply inside her, his magnificently taut male body rocked Jenny to the furthest reaches of her soul. He’d helped take care of her when illness had struck her down, even postponing his meeting. He had never done that before. Now, incredibly, he was meeting another great need. A need to be held and loved by him once again—a need that she’d feared would never be met again.
Rodrigo had talked about maintaining distance as friends…Surely he couldn’t want to put distance between them a second time after a union as profoundly magnetic and unforgettable as this?
Cupping her hands round his arrow-straight hips, Jenny took him even deeper, locking her legs round his hard-muscled back. ‘Is this good for you?’ she breathed, catching a glimmer of surprise in his eyes.
‘Is this good ? You underestimate your powers of
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