Rising Stars. Maisey Yates
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It seemed to take forever before she finally rose to the surface with a gasp, her hair sleek and sopping wet.
Laura was facing away from him, the moonlight frosting her bare shoulders in silver. Her thighs spread wide as her legs chopped the water, which moved around her in illuminated ripples of blue.
He choked back a groan. He was hard and aching for her. There was no way he was leaving her now. Walking to the edge, he said, “Laura.”
She turned to face him with a gasp. Her eyes were luminous, a dark shade of blue, as she tried to cover her breasts, treading water with her feet. “What do you want?”
Sitting on a chair by the pool, he looked down at her. “I want you to tell me what you’re thinking.” “I’m thinking I want to be alone!”
“Tell me,” he threatened. “Or I’ll kiss it out of you.”
Her eyes widened. Then she turned away. “Just go away.”
But in spite of her defiant words, he heard a sob in her voice that caused his belly to clench. Had he done that? Had he caused it? His jaw set. Pushing the chair away, he rose to his feet. He calmly kicked off his black leather shoes.
“What are you doing?” she said, alarmed.
He didn’t answer. Fully dressed in his tuxedo shirt and trousers, he jumped into the pool.
He’d been on the swim team in school, and was a fast swimmer underwater. He rose to the surface directly beside her, pushing her back against the hard edge of the pool. She gasped as she felt his hands on her.
“Tell me,” he said grimly.
“No.” “Now.”
Her eyes became wide and tearful. “I can’t.”
Gabriel looked at her, and again he had that same strange feeling in his chest, like a twist in his heart. Holding himself suspended in the water, he gripped the edge of the pool with both hands around her, trapping her. She had nowhere to escape.
“You’re going to tell me.” He felt the warmth of her curvy body against the sopping wet shirt now clinging to his chest. “Whatever it is.”
He heard her intake of breath. Then she lifted her chin.
“It wouldn’t do any good,” she whispered. “Not to you. Not to anyone.”
He growled in frustration. Holding on to the edge of the pool with one hand, he cupped her cheek with his other palm. “Remember,” he said roughly, tilting her chin. “You left me no choice.”
And he ruthlessly kissed her.
Her lips trembled beneath his, soft and warm and wet. He moved his mouth against hers in a seductive embrace, luring her without force, tempting her with their mutual hunger, with the insatiable need between them. Deepening the kiss, he softly stroked down her cheek, down her neck. His hand went below the surface of the water and he stroked the side of her body, her plump breast beneath her nearly invisible silk bra, her taut, slender waist, the full curve of her hip.
With a shudder of desire, he pulled back to look at her.
In the moving prisms of light from the pool, he could hear the music and noise of the street party on the avenida. But here on the terrace of his penthouse, in the moonlit night, he saw only her. They were connected in a way he didn’t understand.
He never wanted to let her go.
Reaching beneath her, he lifted her out of the pool. She was warm in his arms and her weight was light, barely anything at all, as he set her down gently on the limestone. He climbed out beside her, his wet tuxedo trousers and white shirt clinging to his skin. Impatiently, he pulled off the shirt, then yanked off his trousers with awkward force as the fabric clung stubbornly to his legs, nearly tripping him.
Laura, still sitting on the terrace floor in her transparent bra and panties, choked out a giggle.
“Laugh at me, will you, gringa?” Gabriel growled. He threw his sodden trousers on the floor, and his socks swiftly followed. He lifted her into his arms, holding her tightly against his naked body.
The laughter faded from her eyes, replaced by something hot and dark. Looking at him in wonder, she reached up and stroked the rough bristles of his jawline.
Just the gentle touch of her small hand sent his senses reeling, spiraling out of control. He wanted to push her into a lounge chair—that one, there at his feet—and throw himself on top of her, grinding into her, filling her until they exploded.
But he’d already done that once, on the hood of his car. No. Now, he would take his time.
Now, he would do it right.
Water trailed behind them as he padded naked across the terrace and back inside. The expensive rugs were left sopping wet with every step.
He looked down at her, this beautiful, soft, loving woman who had her arms wrapped around his neck and looked up at him with a mixture of apprehension, desire and wonder. He went down the hall to the master bedroom and set her reverently on his large bed.
He saw her lying across his white comforter, nearly naked, and he shuddered with need. Lines of silvery moonlight from his half-closed blinds slatted across Laura’s bare skin, emphasizing the shadows of her full breasts and hips, and his whole body shook with hunger.
He needed her. Now.
“I’m going to get everything wet,” she whispered with a nervous laugh. “Good,” he said roughly.
Her eyes were looking everywhere but at his naked body, everywhere but the hard, huge evidence of his desire. There was no hiding how much he wanted her. Let her see. Let her know. He put his hand on the valley of bare skin between her breasts, and exhaled.
He could see her nipples through her wet silk bra. Beneath her transparent, half-ripped panties, he could see the dark curls of hair between her legs. He reached to rip off her bra, then stopped himself.
Take it slow. Do it right.
With iron control, he gently undid her bra and peeled it off her wet skin before dropping it to the carpet. Her panties were next—easy to remove those, as they’d already been ripped and only a few threads still held them together.
Looking at her now, naked and spread across his bed, he took a breath, struggling to stay in check. He wanted to throw himself on top of her and push deep, deep, deep inside until he felt her shake with joy around him. Instead, he forced himself to climb up beside her on the bed. Turning her against his naked body, he reached for her cheek and gently kissed her, long and slow.
His hand skimmed her side, caressing her. He took his time, kissing her, relishing the sweet taste of her lips, the warm wet pleasures of her mouth. He heard a sigh come from the back of her throat as she wrapped her arm around him, pulling him closer.
He throbbed against her soft belly, thick and rock-hard. But he made no move to throw her back against the bed. Instead, he just kissed her as if he had all the time in the world, exploring her mouth, biting her lip, nibbling her neck and chin, sucking the tender flesh of her ear. It nearly killed him to wait, but he owed it to her to take his time…take it—
He suddenly gasped as he felt her hand wrap around his hard, thick shaft. He jerked in her hand as she slowly ran her fingertips down his length. Her thumb gently touched the tip, and it became wet beneath her touch as a tiny bead like a pearl escaped. He gasped out a groan.
“Querida,” he said hoarsely. “Don’t…I can’t…”
In a sudden movement, she flipped him on his back, pushing him against the pillows. He felt her lips move down his throat to his chest. He was suddenly in her power, and he felt it as she kissed his body. When her head slipped down past his taut belly, he gripped the goosedown comforter with white-knuckled control. Then he felt her tongue brush his hot, throbbing skin, licking the bead of moisture at the tip.
He