In the Brazilian's Debt(86)

                ‘I hope you’re joking,’ she whispered, reaching for him.

                ‘Just testing,’ he murmured.

                ‘Then, get under the covers and test me some more.’

                He laughed against her mouth as he stretched out his long, powerful limbs on the bed. ‘I think I might just do that.’

                ‘Don’t think about it,’ she urged. ‘Just act on instinct.’

                ‘If you say so,’ Chico murmured dryly.

                Their mouths were almost touching, and before he did as she asked he kissed her in the way she loved to be kissed. She would never tire of Chico kissing her, just as she would never tire of stroking him, or mapping his powerful muscles and the wide spread of his shoulders. He was so bronzed, so hard, so big, so perfect. Turning her, he found her with his hand, and as she arched her back to make it easy for him he entered her again, making his strokes deep and regular, and slow, so they could both savour each lazy thrust. She exclaimed shakily as his hand worked skilfully to the same easy rhythm.

                ‘Don’t hold back,’ he growled against her neck. ‘We’ve got all night, so why not indulge yourself?’

                She didn’t need any more encouragement, and let go, her muscles convulsing around him as she gratefully and powerfully lost control.

                When she woke dawn was streaming in through the windows. She was in Chico’s arms, and he was watching her. She had no idea how many times they’d made love, only that each time had been better than the last.

                ‘Well?’ he murmured. ‘Are you ready for the new day?’

                He was doing something incredible—and not just with his hands—so all she could manage was a sleepy moan of agreement.

                ‘Brazen hussy,’ he murmured, pressing his hand into the small of her back to make her even more available to him.

                ‘Barbarian,’ she countered as Chico took her buttocks in a firm grip and began to move.

                And now one of his big hands had moved to tease her nipples, while the other worked rhythmically on the heat at her core. She was a slave to sensation, and Chico was the master of seduction. It wouldn’t have mattered if she’d been wearing armour rather than lying naked in his bed, nothing on earth could have stopped the wave of sensation that roared up inside her and spilled out in screams.

                ‘What’s this?’ he murmured later when she was quiet. He’d caught one fat tear on his fingertip and was staring at it in surprise.

                She would have to go home after the graduation. She would have to leave him.

                ‘We will never be parted again, Lizzie Fane,’ Chico told her as if he could read her mind. ‘We’ve spent too long apart already.’

                ‘But—’

                ‘I told you, no buts. We’re going to do this thing together, you and me. We’re going to rebuild the Rottingdean estate and make it the go-to place for polo training and polo ponies in Europe, and we’re going to change the lives of hordes of children, while we keep this place right up there too.’

                ‘But how are we going to do that, when Scotland and Brazil are half a world apart?’

                Chico smiled. ‘The world’s a small place when we have private jets, and teams with people like Maria and Annie in them, and we have the Internet at our command. Believe me, it can be managed, Lizzie.’