wreaking havoc in her. She stroked the hard muscles of his chest, fascinated by the solid feel of them. She slid her hand upward to curl her fingers around his neck. His pulse throbbed in the palm of her hand.
Her upraised arm exposed her midriff. Ricardo placed a warm hand on the rise of her hip and then let it drift to the curve below her breast. His fingers gently massaged her side.
"You're on fire," he commented, almost casually. But Angela knew his body was as feverish as hers.
She closed her eyes as waves of longing rocked her. She needed to tell him that she wanted him, but insecurity kept her silent. She could feel the heat from his body burning her chest. But still his hand remained at her side.
"Tell me that you want me," he murmured.
She looked into his eyes. Within their depths lurked desire and… vulnerability.
"Yes, I want you."
He groaned.
Unable to bear the sound of it, she covered his mouth with her fingers. "Don't."
He grasped her fingers in his hand. "Does it bother you that I'm in misery?"
She empathized with him. "I don't want you to hurt."
The sincerity in her voice brought a look of tenderness into his gaze. He placed her hand on his heart. " Mi corazón ," he whispered. " Querida ." He brushed her cheek and then traced her lips with his fingers.
Unable to stand any more of the teasing contact, she ran her fingers through his wavy hair. She stilled his restless movements by offering her lips, demanding a kiss.
Wanting to please her, he had tried to move slowly. Now her passion swept him away. He could no longer hold back, and with a groan, he lowered his lips to hers.
His kiss deepened. His fingers trembled as they slid around her. Her quivers made the agony of waiting worthwhile. He tried to be gentle, but his hands shook with the effort.
She moaned and, afraid he had hurt her, he let go and reached around her to press her pliant body to his heart.
"I'm sorry," he murmured into her neck.
"No, I'm okay," she reassured him as she kneaded the tense muscles in his shoulders.
"I know I shouldn't have done that, but I had to have one kiss from you."
"It wasn’t entirely your fault. I wanted it too."
But one kiss wasn't enough for her any more than it was for him.
He pulled back to look at her. Dampened tendrils of hair lay across her forehead and splayed out, framing her face. Desire was evident in her eyes—and something else that was indefinable.
"You make me feel so…" she confessed in a husky whisper. "It frightens me."
"I would never hurt you," he promised as he brushed back the blonde wisps of her hair. Her honesty touched him, even as it evoked his own fears.
With a start, he realized Angela could all too easily break down the protective wall that for years he'd hidden his inner self behind—a wall so thick that sometimes he couldn’t penetrate it himself.
Strangely on the defensive now, Ricardo gently pulled away from her, managing to settle her back on the couch before he stood. The muscles constricted around his heart as he watched her smile fade, to be replaced by a look of confusion.
"We're not ready for this," he told her. Pain clouded her eyes. He wanted to bend down and hold her, at least clasp her hand, but he dared not touch her. "We could make love now. We both want to. But where would that leave us?"
"You mean, how would we deal with each other tomorrow at school?"
"Exactly." He jumped at the excuse. "Things are moving much too fast between us. Sex now would make it damned awkward in front of the camera." That wasn't his real reason, but it was what he could tell her now.
Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Ricardo could have kicked himself. But as he stood looking at her, he knew how things had gotten so out of hand. She didn’t flaunt it, but she exuded a subtle sexuality that had invited his caress. His body ached with the pain of wanting her now, this very moment, on the couch, or the floor—anywhere.
"I'd better go." He raked unsteady fingers
Her upraised arm exposed her midriff. Ricardo placed a warm hand on the rise of her hip and then let it drift to the curve below her breast. His fingers gently massaged her side.
"You're on fire," he commented, almost casually. But Angela knew his body was as feverish as hers.
She closed her eyes as waves of longing rocked her. She needed to tell him that she wanted him, but insecurity kept her silent. She could feel the heat from his body burning her chest. But still his hand remained at her side.
"Tell me that you want me," he murmured.
She looked into his eyes. Within their depths lurked desire and… vulnerability.
"Yes, I want you."
He groaned.
Unable to bear the sound of it, she covered his mouth with her fingers. "Don't."
He grasped her fingers in his hand. "Does it bother you that I'm in misery?"
She empathized with him. "I don't want you to hurt."
The sincerity in her voice brought a look of tenderness into his gaze. He placed her hand on his heart. " Mi corazón ," he whispered. " Querida ." He brushed her cheek and then traced her lips with his fingers.
Unable to stand any more of the teasing contact, she ran her fingers through his wavy hair. She stilled his restless movements by offering her lips, demanding a kiss.
Wanting to please her, he had tried to move slowly. Now her passion swept him away. He could no longer hold back, and with a groan, he lowered his lips to hers.
His kiss deepened. His fingers trembled as they slid around her. Her quivers made the agony of waiting worthwhile. He tried to be gentle, but his hands shook with the effort.
She moaned and, afraid he had hurt her, he let go and reached around her to press her pliant body to his heart.
"I'm sorry," he murmured into her neck.
"No, I'm okay," she reassured him as she kneaded the tense muscles in his shoulders.
"I know I shouldn't have done that, but I had to have one kiss from you."
"It wasn’t entirely your fault. I wanted it too."
But one kiss wasn't enough for her any more than it was for him.
He pulled back to look at her. Dampened tendrils of hair lay across her forehead and splayed out, framing her face. Desire was evident in her eyes—and something else that was indefinable.
"You make me feel so…" she confessed in a husky whisper. "It frightens me."
"I would never hurt you," he promised as he brushed back the blonde wisps of her hair. Her honesty touched him, even as it evoked his own fears.
With a start, he realized Angela could all too easily break down the protective wall that for years he'd hidden his inner self behind—a wall so thick that sometimes he couldn’t penetrate it himself.
Strangely on the defensive now, Ricardo gently pulled away from her, managing to settle her back on the couch before he stood. The muscles constricted around his heart as he watched her smile fade, to be replaced by a look of confusion.
"We're not ready for this," he told her. Pain clouded her eyes. He wanted to bend down and hold her, at least clasp her hand, but he dared not touch her. "We could make love now. We both want to. But where would that leave us?"
"You mean, how would we deal with each other tomorrow at school?"
"Exactly." He jumped at the excuse. "Things are moving much too fast between us. Sex now would make it damned awkward in front of the camera." That wasn't his real reason, but it was what he could tell her now.
Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Ricardo could have kicked himself. But as he stood looking at her, he knew how things had gotten so out of hand. She didn’t flaunt it, but she exuded a subtle sexuality that had invited his caress. His body ached with the pain of wanting her now, this very moment, on the couch, or the floor—anywhere.
"I'd better go." He raked unsteady fingers
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