Renegade Millionaire (9 page)

“Then I need to ask a favor.”

He could think of several favors he'd like to provide for her, even dead tired. “Shoot.”

“Do you mind if I use your shower? I won't take long.”

“No problem.” It was a problem, at least for Rio. Knowing Joanna was in his shower—naked and wet—would prevent him from sleeping at all should he decide to grab a quick nap in his bedroom. But that wouldn't keep him from honoring her request. In fact, he was beginning to think he might have a damn hard time refusing her anything.

 

She wasn't alone.

Through the mist clinging to the transparent shower door, Joanna saw Rio leaning against the bathroom entry, his arms folded over his bare chest with one hip cocked against the frame. His stance seemed surprisingly relaxed, as if watching her bathe was a part of his daily routine. Joanna was not the least bit relaxed, nor had she been since she'd come upon him in the den cloaked in firelight with his jeans undone to reveal a partial glimpse of the tattoo. And below that, strong evidence that he was aroused. So had she been at that moment. So was she now.

Yet she wasn't exactly surprised by his presence.

After all, this was his private domain and she had left the door partially ajar to keep the bath from steaming up. Or so she'd told herself. In reality, in an inexplicable place buried deep within her psyche, she'd secretly hoped that he would venture inside. Silently yearned for him to shed his clothes, his resistance, and join her for some more water play.

Instead, he continued to stand and stare, and Joanna continued to slowly lather her body with the same soap
she had detected on his skin on more than one occasion, as if unaware of his presence.

The simple act of showering took on a whole new meaning. With every stroke over her slick flesh, she imagined his skilled hand there. With every pass over her breasts, she remembered his impassioned touch. With every random tick of her pulse, an all-consuming heat assailed the very core of her. Joanna's head began to whirl with possibilities and her body reeled when she considered where this might lead.

Obviously nowhere, she soon realized after she'd finished washing and he still hadn't made a move. Not even an inch. Maybe he found her figure lacking. Maybe he didn't appreciate the faint stretch marks on her upper thighs, the slight roundness of her belly, the fullness of her hips.

But he'd seen all those details in the hot tub and that hadn't stopped him then. Something was definitely stopping him now.

Resigned that he wasn't going to do anything but gawk, Joanna turned off the spray, pushed open the shower door and grabbed for the bulky black towel hanging on the rack to her left. She dried herself slowly, still very much aware that he continued to study her. But she didn't dare look at him, not yet. Not until after she had her feet firmly planted on the woven mat outside the shower and her robe covering her completely.

Though she felt self-conscious, Joanna affected casualness as she raised her eyes from where she'd cinched the robe's tie loosely around her waist. She met his gaze, dark and intense and oh so seductive. “Did I take too long?” Her voice sounded remarkably nonchalant.

“Not at all.” His voice sounded impossibly deep and rough.

“I'll be out of your way in a minute,” she said. “Just let me run a quick brush through my hair.”

After taking a seat before the vanity, Joanna combed through her unruly curls, not seeing much of anything but Rio's reflection in the wide mirror. His expression remained guarded, still as dispassionate as it had been while he'd watched her bathe, but his eyes belied that appearance of calm and control. They looked dark and disturbed. Very disturbed.

She pivoted on the backless stool to face him with brush in hand and he gave her a slow visual once-over, pausing at her feet. “Your leg's bleeding,” he said with a hint of concern.

Joanna sent a quick look down and noticed a thin trail of red oozing from a small cut on her ankle. Great. If she didn't do something about it soon, she would bleed all over the nice beige carpet. “Sorry. I didn't notice.” Actually, she had been vaguely aware of the nick while shaving her legs, but the sharp sting had been no match for the mind-numbing ache for Rio's complete attention. It still wasn't.

Reaching behind her, she laid down the brush, snapped a tissue from the holder on the counter and dabbed at the cut.

Without speaking, Rio pushed away from the door and strode toward her, causing her breath to hitch and her heart to leap. He bent and opened the bottom drawer to her left, and as he rummaged through the contents, several items drew Joanna's attention, one in particular. A box of condoms. An industrial-size box.

Rio pushed the box aside, withdrew a bandage and ripped it open then tossed the wrapping into the nearby wastebasket. His mouth formed a grim line as he slammed the drawer and stood in front of her. Joanna
expected him to hand her the bandage but instead, he knelt and propped her foot on his leg. She couldn't disregard the fact that she was sitting on a stool wearing only a knee-length pink terry robe with her foot balanced on his taut thigh and her heart lodged in her dry throat. Goose bumps covered her entire body despite the warmth of the bathroom or Rio's heat-inducing gaze now centered on her eyes.

After he gently applied the bandage, Joanna assumed he would stand and leave. But he remained motionless, as if awaiting some sort of response. Joanna supposed she should express her gratitude, verbally thank him, but she couldn't seem to get a handle on her words when he began to brush his thumb over her instep in a maddening rhythm that put her senses on high alert.

Rio continued to silently regard Joanna, the tension as thick as the vapor that had risen from the shower. She had no idea what he was waiting for but she suspected it might be some kind of signal from her, something that indicated she wanted him to act on the electricity arcing between them, and no doubt she did, even though she shouldn't.

But the shouldn'ts and couldn'ts never seemed to matter much when he was around. They didn't matter now as he kept his eyes fastened on her flushed face. She only knew that she wanted him with an urgency that discounted logic.

The last remnants of Joanna's common sense blew away along with any semblance of normal breathing. As if of their own accord, her legs slightly parted and the robe fell to each side of her thighs in blatant invitation.

Without taking his gaze from hers, Rio raised Joanna's foot as well as her heart rate. He planted a soft kiss on her ankle above the bandage, then another on
the inside of her calf and after that he moved on to her knee.

Keenly aware of his upward trek and his possible goal, Joanna had a hard time drawing air when he continued his daring exploration. Nothing like kissing and making it better—Joanna's final lucid thought as she clamped her eyes closed while his tongue blazoned a scorching, wet path along her inner thigh. His mouth, so soft upon her naked flesh, generated such a searing heat that she could only consider how badly she needed relief. How badly she needed Rio.

In the distant recesses of her consciousness, Joanna knew it would be wise to halt what he was about to do. But her mind was as weak and shaky as her body, as limp as the sash he untied with one hand as she let him have his way without even one muttered protest. She gripped the edges of the stool when he opened her robe completely, exposing her breasts. At the same time, she opened her eyes to risk a glance, discovering his mouth only inches from intimate terrain.

Joanna couldn't begin to recognize this uninhibited woman residing beneath her skin. The old Joanna would have protested, questioned her wisdom, his intent, or at least looked away. But this newer version couldn't resist Rio Madrid. Couldn't keep from watching, not even after he settled his mouth between her trembling thighs. Not even after he finessed her vulnerable flesh with his clever tongue, stroked her tender breasts with his gifted fingers, continued to scrutinize her as she balanced on the brink of something she wasn't sure she could bear.

Watching the surreal scene, watching him watching her, sent a mind-bending climax tearing through Joanna. The intense sensations made her almost pull away from Rio's provocative torment, but she couldn't. She could
only drop her chin to her chest as she rode wave after wave, pulse after pulse of pure bliss.

Before Joanna could completely recover, Rio hauled her into his arms and framed her face in his palms, holding her in place to accept what he so willingly gave—a kiss that threatened to dissolve her where she now stood, a meeting of tongues and teeth and tastes that greatly affected her balance.

Searching for an anchor, she braced her hands on his waist. She needed to feel every part of him, every lovely inch of him, and reached between them to jerk open his fly. When he didn't stop her, she slipped her hand inside his briefs. His hands dropped to her shoulders and he squeezed them tightly when she touched him with firm, inquisitive strokes. Just imagining him inside her made her dizzy, made her some wild, wanton creature.

After Rio groaned, Joanna anticipated he would scoop her up and carry her to his bed, yet he continued to touch her again in much the same way she now touched him, kissed her with unrestrained passion. She was completely and utterly devoid of will. A tiny pinch of apprehension tried to rear its head but Joanna pushed it out of her mind, determined to concentrate solely on her goal, to break Rio down, one touch at a time.

In response, Rio murmured a few words from his mother's native language, phrases he knew Joanna wouldn't understand. Sexual words. His body's reaction needed no interpretation. He was as achingly hard as he'd ever been in his life, as desperate for her as he'd ever been for any woman.

Her smooth, solid caress overrode Rio's resistance, drove him to the brink, sliced his good sense to shreds.

And he couldn't do a damn thing to stop it.

With his mind caught in a carnal haze and his body
screaming for relief, Rio pulled her down onto the bathroom floor and kicked out of his jeans and briefs. He grabbed for a condom from the drawer and hesitated. But that hesitation—that faint glimmer of uncertainty—evaporated when Joanna released a soft beseeching sound.

Rio tore the package open with his teeth and rolled the condom on, then without formality, without the slightest pause, thrust into Joanna's body. The extreme pleasure he felt at that moment came out in a rough sigh as he battled to hang on to his composure, at least for a while longer. Uninhibited, unrestrained, they rolled until Joanna was positioned above him, straddling him, taking the lead that he was more than glad to relinquish. He worked his hands into the damp curls spiraling at her shoulders and kept his eyes fixed firmly on hers, searching for any resistance, for any sign that he had read her wrong. He saw only the perfect portrait of a beautiful, sensual woman caught in a quest for liberation as she moved in an erotic tempo, rode him as if she intended to steal his sanity.

Determined to hold off his climax for as long as he could, Rio nudged Joanna forward with a palm on her back until he could take her pink-tipped breast into his mouth. He clasped her hips and gently pushed her down until he immersed himself completely in her inviting heat. She straightened and tilted her head back, her eyes closed, her lips trembling. Rio sensed she was on the verge of another orgasm. He wasn't very far behind.

Beyond that point, Rio stopped thinking, stopped considering anything but the raw passion that blocked everything from his brain as a climax ripped through him, took him beyond the realm of conscious thought where
nothing existed but Joanna's own climax pulling him deeper inside her body, deeper into mindlessness.

After a time, Joanna wilted against his chest and her breath came out in ragged gasps to match his own. Rio held her tightly, reveling in the clean rain-shower scent emanating from her silky hair and soft skin, the taste of her still lingering on his tongue and lips. He experienced every brisk beat of her heart against his chest and each lingering pulsation where they were still joined. But as the sensations began to subside, awareness struck him like a fist in the face.

Joanna Blake was more than he'd ever imagined her to be as a lover, even in his most untamed dreams. Regardless of what she'd done to his body, done to his mind, it couldn't compare to the havoc she was creating in his heart. She had set free something in him that he'd never expected, something far removed from physical gratification, and he knew in an elemental way he would never be the same from this point forward.

He also recognized that she needed more than sex. She needed a man who could love her well, day in and day out. A steady secure man who didn't mind giving up his freedom to settle into a normal routine. He wasn't sure he would ever be able to open himself up to the possibility of a lifelong commitment, even if Joanna was the only woman who'd ever come close to rousing those feelings within him. Feelings he was too damn afraid to acknowledge.

With so many concerns hanging over his head, Rio began to regret giving in to base urges. He admittedly enjoyed sex hot and hard and fast if the situation called for it. And yes, Joanna had willingly participated, but she hadn't exactly asked him, at least not verbally.

But this was more than sex. More than he cared to
deal with at the moment. He had to come to terms with the fact that he'd started it, something he'd sworn not to do, and he'd finished it without regard to what she needed—slow, tender, considerate lovemaking in a comfortable bed, not on a bathroom floor, especially not the first time.

Right now he had to get away from her so he could think. So he could sufficiently chastise himself for the loss of control. He didn't like losing control.

As much as he wanted to take Joanna to his bed, to say to hell with work and make love to her all day long, he wouldn't. Not if he intended to face the harsh reality of the situation—she deserved better than him.