Page 11 of The Virgin's Dance with the Devil
For all her bookish good-girl ways, Marisa was fun to be around. Being with her filled him with an energy that zinged in every cell of his body.
“What books did you bring with you?” she asked after taking another long sip of hercocktail.
He made sure to pitch his voice as regretful. “I was in such a rush to get here and see you that I forgot.”
Her answering, “Idiot,” was good-natured. Then her eyes lit up, and she put her cocktail down on her side table. “Give me my bag.”
“Only if you let me cuddle you instead.”
She pulled an unimpressed face and held her hand out. “Give.”
He sighed. “Okay, okay,” and passed it to her.
She put it on her lap and rummaged through it before pulling out a thick, dog-eared paperback. “Here, you can borrow this.”
“I couldn’t possibly,” he said with perfectly feigned regret.
“Honestly, it’s fine. I’ve brought five books with me. I was going to start this one again, but it doesn’t matter – I’ve read it probably ten times already.”
He raised an eyebrow before looking down at the book she’d thrust in his hand. “The Time Traveler’s Wife?”
“Have you read it?”
“No.” The last book Rico had read had been a set piece of literature when he was at school. It had been as big a waste of his time and energy as all the other books he’d been forced to read during his school years. But, of course, Marisa thought he was nearly as big a reader as she was, so definitely not something to confess.
“You will love it,” she enthused. “Please, read it – I’d love to hear your thoughts.”
“I’ll start it tonight.” Or, rather, find a detailed synopsis and memorise it.
She beamed and reached for her cocktail. She finished what was left of it in one impressively long swallow.
“Another?” he asked.
She beamed again.
Had there ever been such a perfect afternoon, Marisa wondered. After a second pina colada each, Rico had ordered them mojitos, which the barman had delivered with a plate ofcapresepaninis and chips for them to share. She hadn’t even realised she was hungry until she’d taken her first bite, and she’d happily devoured the rest of her portion. It felt so good to eat with Rico without a clock ticking down and knowing she didn’t have to run back to work.
Now, she was stretched out contentedly with her head propped on a towel Rico had rolled for her, watching the gentle waves breaking on the deserted beach. Best of all, Rico lay stretched out beside her, but where her stare was on the sea, he was lying on his side, gazing at her. It was getting harder to resist rolling over to face him. Shelongedto. Really longed to. Longed to soak in every last millimetre of his face, and maybe if that was all she wanted then she would do it, but she had a strong awareness of his hand flat on the tiny space of mattress separating them and an even stronger awareness that the hand she’d draped over her stomach was only inches away from it.
She thought back to the schoolboy whose awareness of her had piqued her awareness of him. Before she’d felt compelled to bust his balls with her knee, they’d gone to the cinema to watch the latest superhero film. She’d been bored out of her skull and had debated holding his hand more to relieve the boredom than out of a wish to hold it. There had been no itch in her fingers, no longing to justtouchhim. No secret wish for him to take her hand. Her heart hadn’t thrashed so powerfully that it had sent ripples into her belly.
“What are you thinking?”
She closed her eyes and smiled, knowing theheat rising on her cheeks at Rico’s question would be showing on her skin. “About a date I had when I was fifteen.”
“You’ve been on a date?” he teased.
She laughed. She was pretty sure Rico had guessed from everything she’d shared during their lunches and in her letters that she was a virgin. “Just the one.”
His head moved a fraction closer to her. “It didn’t go well?”
“He thought buying me a tub of ice cream meant I was going to put out for him.”
He lifted his head. The intensity of his stare compelled her to turn her face to meet the deep-set, piercing blue eyes. A groove had appeared in his forehead. “He forced himself on you?”
“He tried.” Her laugh was more rueful than humorous. “He didn’t get very far. He stuck his tongue in my mouth and it was the most disgusting thing ever, and he squeezed my breast like it was one of those stress-relief balls… and I’ve no idea why I’m telling you this.”
“Because I’m your friend and you can tell me anything.”
