Want a taster of why Rico Esposito turned his back on the family business for love…? Then continue reading!
Excerpt of The Virgin’s Dance With The Devil:
For the longest time, they just gazed at each other. Marisa’s heart was swelling so hard she swore she could feel it push against her ribs.
He inched his face even closer, so close the tips of their noses were almost touching. “I’m sorry your first kiss was such a bad one,” he said lowly. His warm breath whispered against her skin… she could smell the mint and rum of his mojito. The tips of his fingers brushed the tips of hers, and suddenly her heart wasn’t just swelling but pounding hard enough to stop her breathing, drums thrashing a beat in her head. His fingers sliding slowly between hers, Rico’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Have you kissed anyone since?”
Swallowing a mouth suddenly filled with moisture, she gave the lightest shake of her head.
The tips of their noses touched. Their fingers locked together. The drum beat in Marisa’s head and her chest became a cacophony of hot noise as Rico tilted his head and his lips gently pressed against hers.
Closing her eyes, the world whooshed away under a flood of flickering sensation.
After forever passed where he did nothing but hold his lips chastely to hers and breathe her in, his mouth moved in an almost lazy caress, and he seductively coaxed her lips apart. His silken tongue slowly brushed against hers, shocking her with the electrical thrill of it, and then the world and everyone in it disappeared.
Helpless to do anything but follow his tender ministrations, Marisa’s entire being sank into Rico. His darkly exotic taste filled her as much as the sensation of his mouth on hers, and as she breathed him in, a faint trace of warming oranges swirled with the musk of his skin and the darkness of his breath.
She had no recollection of their hands slipping apart, not until she softly moaned at the exquisite sensation of his fingers burrowing into her hair. She had no memory, either, of touching his face, not until her fingers pressed tighter into his warm cheek; the texture so utterly different to her own, and she dragged the pads over it, dimly marvelling and thrilling at the thick stubble threatening to break the surface. The kiss intensifying, she sank even deeper into it, leaving her dazed when he finally broke the fusion and drew back.
His hand still burrowed in her hair, his piercing stare capturing hers, he rubbed the tip of his nose to hers and huskily whispered, “How was that? Better?”
But she couldn’t speak. She was trembling, inside and out, and as the loud screech of a seagull flying over them penetrated her senses, the fog of Rico that had enveloped her lessened enough for her to fill with horror at what she’d just allowed to happen.
Dropping her hand from his cheek as if it had been scalded, she grabbed his wrist to pull his hand from her hair and scrambled upright.
“What did you do that for?” she choked, unable to look at him. “You know that isn’t what I want.”
