in turn ignored both the command and the outstretched hand. ‘Did you know that your eyes go grey when you’re angry?’ he murmured.
Messages began to sting through her blood. Sexual messages. ‘My bag,’ she repeated.
He sent her a spine-tingling smile. ‘And your mouth goes all prim and—’
‘Stop it,’ she snapped. ‘This is childish!’
‘Exciting…’ he argued.
She heaved out a breath that was supposed to relay irritation but only managed to sound fraught. And her outstretched fingers began to tremble, so she closed them into a fist and returned them to what they had been doing, which was keeping her towel in place.
‘I’m beginning to catch cold standing around here like this!’
And sure enough she started to shiver, though whether from cold or from something else entirely she refused to let herself consider. But, whatever the reason, it diverted Luiz away from his lazy teasing. And, with a swiftness that completely threw her, he straightened from the door to whip off his jacket then settle it around her wet shoulders.
The oddly gallant gesture sent her defences crumbling. Tears flooded into her eyes. ‘Don’t play him, Luiz,’ she pleaded huskily.
‘Here,’ he prompted, taking her dress and shoes from her fingers. ‘Feed your arms into the sleeves then get rid of that wet towel…’
It was a refusal to listen in anyone’s books. Despair wriggled through her while she obeyed him without thinking and pushed her arms into the sleeves of his jacket. The silk lining was warm against her cool damp skin, the scent of him suddenly swirling all around her.
‘I thought you were going to help me,’ she choked. ‘But all you’ve done is make matters worse!’
‘Madness only responds to the prospect of more madness,’ he answered quietly. ‘The only way to stop him tonight was by giving him a good reason to stop. So we play in an hour, away from the hotel, because I am not—’
His words were cut off mid-flow when Caroline reached up to press both hands to his shirt-front in pained appeal. ‘Please don’t do it! How can you want to do this to me all over again?’
But Luiz wasn’t listening. Instead he was staring down at the place where her hands lay spread across the fine white linen covering his breastbone. His own hands came up to cover hers, and suddenly she was made acutely aware of hot flesh, of the prickly evidence of very male body hair, of the hard pack of muscle and the solid thump of a living heart beating steadily beneath it all.
A heart she knew could rage out of control when he was in the throes of passion. A silk-fleshed body she could remember moving against her own. And that thick crisp mat of chest hair sweeping down like an arrow, aimed directly at his—
Her mouth ran dry. The sex was back. That burning, pulsing, nagging ache that was tugging her senses into life. His hands moved, leaving her hands so he could slide his fingers beneath his jacket, and the towel suddenly slid to the floor. Skin touched skin. Caroline arched on a gasping response.
‘No,’ she groaned when she dared to let her eyes make contact with the burn now taking place at the back of his.
Luiz didn’t answer. It was too late anyway, because he’d closed the gap and was kissing her—kissing her like a lover—fiercely, deeply, and so very intimately that she was utterly shattered by how beautiful it was.
I’ve missed him, she thought, and felt the tears return. I’ve missed the power with which we affect each other, the passion we can generate with just a simple touch. Her fingers moved, drifting up his shirt and to his face, where they traced each contour with the fever of a blind woman Braille-reading her most treasured possession.
He responded with a sigh that shivered through both of them, and he brought her into even closer contact with him, close enough for her senses to fly when she felt the throbbing evidence of his pleasure.
And she knew it was crazy, but in these few brief sensual moments, she knew that Luiz belonged to her. She owned him. She possessed him. If she said, Die for me, Luiz, he would die.
But, more than that, as incredible as that might seem, she would also die for him.
‘Luiz…’ she breathed into his mouth.
The soft breathy sound had the most powerful effect on him. On a low growl, he literally submerged her in a hot and hungry flood of heat that completely consumed her will to fight.
If she’d ever had any, she derided herself. Luiz was her weakness, just as gambling was her father’s. Once you acquired an addiction it remained with you for life. Starve it for years and it would still erupt at the first tiny, tempting sip. And she was certainly sipping at her addiction, she admitted as she fell into the kiss with all the urgency of starvation, tasting him, touching him, needing him, wanting more!
His hands caressed her and she let them, his mouth devoured hers and she allowed it to. She could taste mint on his breath and on the moistness of his tongue, and feel the deep throb of his heart beneath her restless fingers.
Something gave between them. She hardly understood what it was until her breasts were swinging free and Luiz’s hands were taking possession. After that the whole thing became a banquet at its most ravenous. He deserted her mouth to go in search of other delights, and she tossed back her head and simply preened with pleasure while he licked and sucked and teased her breasts.
It felt perfectly natural to lift up one long silken leg and hook it around his lean waist for balance as she arched to offer him easier access. But the action brought her into even more intimate contact with the hard masculine core of him. And after that she became lost in a burning bright kaleidoscope filled with touch and feel and sound and scents that were so entrenched in her psyche because this man had been her first lover. The one who’d taught her to feel like this, to respond like this, to need like this!
Her only lover—though she hoped to goodness that Luiz couldn’t tell that was the case. Couldn’t tell that she was responding this wildly and this helplessly because he was the only man ever to make her feel like this.
And while it happened it didn’t seem to matter that he was also the man who’d completely shattered her once, betrayed her so badly that she had never been able to recover. Her father didn’t matter. The game didn’t matter. The knowledge that Luiz could only hurt her again didn’t matter.
In fact she was so lost in what he was doing to her that when the knock sounded on the pool room door she could barely comprehend what the sound meant. Until Luiz straightened abruptly, thrust her leg away, then clamped her weak and trembling frame to his own pulsing body before reaching out to open the door a crack.
At which point the shock waves of what they had been so close to actually doing, began ricocheting horribly through her system. Seven years with no contact, she was thinking dizzily, and they’d fallen on each other like a pair of hungry animals at the first opportunity they had been handed.
It was all so utterly, shamefully vulgar that she buried her burning face in Luiz’s throat and hoped to God that the person knocking on the door was not her father.
A man’s voice she had never heard before, but which had the same American drawl as Luiz, said, ‘It’s all arranged. You have half an hour.’
‘Okay,’ Luiz acknowledged gruffly, quickly shut the door again, then with a firmness that utterly shook her, he put her from him.
It took her a few moments to realise what was happening, but one glance at his coldly closed face and she knew that the passionately out-of-control man she had been kissing had suddenly turned back into her enemy.
‘What’s arranged?’ she asked tautly.
‘What do you think?’ he replied.
He meant his game with her father, she realised. Even after what had just erupted between them he was still going to play