His woman.
That thought echoed in his mind until he deliberately shut it down.
He pulled her up against him, enjoying the feel of her lush, curvy body pressed to his. Again, she hooked her leg around his waist and he felt the heat of her core against his hard length. He groaned tightly and backed her up until she bumped into the arm of the leather couch. When she went to fall back onto it, he caught her, turned her in his arms and eased her down until she was bent over, her luscious, beautiful behind displayed to him.
She propped herself up on her elbows and looked back at him over her shoulder. She wiggled her hips suggestively, licked her lips, took a breath and said, “Touch me, Rico.”
Her welcome, her passion undid him. He reached down and tugged that thong from her and rubbed her tender flesh with strong strokes. She moaned again and pushed her hips up, bracing her feet apart on the floor, giving him easy access to drive them both over the edge.
His brain splintered, thoughts dissolving under an onslaught of pure sensation that tore through him. Rico had never lost control of himself this way. Never allowed a woman to reach past his well-built defenses to glimpse the man he was beneath the sophisticated veneer. But Teresa did it without even trying.
Rico’s finely honed control simply snapped. He couldn’t wait another minute. Couldn’t be denied the ecstasy of being surrounded by her wet heat. He bent over her, letting her feel how badly he wanted her. She turned her face to him and their tongues met in a fast, delving exploration, then he straightened and positioned himself behind her.
Her breath came fast and hard. She threw her hair out of her face and turned her head to watch him. Her eyes gleamed and she licked her bottom lip with a long, slow swipe of her tongue.
He ran his hands up and down her back, following the line of her spine and the curve of her behind until she was groaning with need and twisting beneath his grip.
His thumbs swiped down into the heat of her and spread her inner core to his gaze. She was hot and damp and as he stroked her she moaned, “Rico, please. Touch me. Touch me.”
He did, stroking her inside and out as his own body screamed for him to enter her. To claim her as his.
Heart racing, his blood thrummed in his veins and urged him on. Teresa looked back at him again, her breath coming harder, faster, and she whispered, “Hurry.”
He grinned at her eagerness. His Teresa had never been shy about lovemaking. When they were first together, they had christened every room in his suite over the Cancún hotel and what they had done on his terrace one memorable morning still woke him up at night, wanting to do it all again.
“Please,” she muttered, bracing herself on the leather cushions and wiggling her hips in invitation. “Now, Rico. Do it now.”
“Now,” he agreed and pushed himself into her depths.
She cried out his name at his entry and everything in him fisted painfully. She was so hot, so tight and felt so right. He rocked in and out of her body, hating every retreat and welcoming every surge as the blessing it was.
Again and again, he pushed them both higher and higher, the rhythm they set breathtaking. The only sounds in the room were their heavy breathing and the hiss and snap of the fire.
He leaned over her, cupped her breasts in his hands and tweaked her nipples as his body continued to plunge into hers. She groaned and rocked back into him, doing all she could to match his movements.
She humbled him, aroused him and left him shaken to the heart of him. Desire pumped like a wildfire through his body even while his mind stood apart and realized how precious she was. How special to him. How his life would be even emptier once she was gone from it.