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skin revealed by the open shirt. So hot, his flesh, and so hard. And so tempting. She liked touching him, relished the steeliness of his big arms, the bulge halfway between his elbow and shoulder.
    “My turn,” he murmured against her lips, the friction both ticklish and tantalizing. “Choose one for me.”
    It took a few moments for his words to sink in. She picked the nearest appetizer—an orange-colored tart decorated with a chopped cherry pepper—and held the oval morsel to his mouth. When he didn’t take a bite, Jacinta risked a quick peek to find him staring at her chest.
    “Put it on my tongue.”
    The temperature climbed a zillion degrees, and the short-sleeved dress that had been airy and light earlier had somehow turned into itchy wool. Such an intimate act, feeding him with her fingers.
    Jacinta held her breath and tried to do as he wished without touching his delightfully talented tongue. He snared her fingers lightly with his teeth. The slight nip and his intent gaze had her squirming, but she froze when her bottom encountered his organ—his oversize, rigid organ. Mãe de Deus, no wonder it had hurt.
    “Your wine, señor.” Jacinta hadn’t heard the woman approach, but then again, the blood thundered so hard in her ears that she wouldn’t have heard an explosion going off right next to her.
    “Have you ever had wine?” he asked after Lucia had left.
    “I stole some of the sacrificial wine once.” She wrinkled her nose. “It was not to my liking.”
    “Try this one.” He set the glass to her lips. “Tiny sip.”
    It was not what she remembered at all. “I like it.”
    “You’ll like it even more from my lips.” He took a swallow and captured her mouth. Oh, the sensation of the warm, spicy wine, his dancing tongue, and the hand massaging her scalp proved overwhelming. She didn’t know how long they kissed, but when he broke away, she whimpered and tried to pull him back.
    “Will you do something for me?”
    “Anything.” Anything at all if he’d kiss her again.
    “I want you to show me your panties.”
    Stunned, her jaw dropped, and she shook her head.
    He kissed her again and again and again. When she couldn’t tell where he began and she ended, he whispered, “Show me.”
    Fingers trembling, she lifted the hem of her dress, unable to look down or at him.
    “I want to touch you. Will you let me?”
    There ? Mortification strangled her vocal cords. She shot him a sidelong glance, and her heart skipped a few beats. Never had anyone looked at her like that, with such fiery intensity.
    “May I?”
    She’d surely burst into flames any second; his stare held her spellbound. She nodded.
    His palm, hot and large and insistent, covered her mound.
    He slanted his lips over hers and snagged his other hand behind her nape. She overheated, embarrassment battling with a surging excitement.
    When his thick fingers slid under her panties, she didn’t know what to do but yearned to trap the burning inferno radiating from his skin.
    He moved a finger and then another. “See how wet you are, Jacinta. How easily my fingers slide over your pussy. That’s how you should be when we make love.”
    She had never fainted in her life, but never had a room seemed to dip and sway either. He pressed a spot that felt as if lightning had scorched her from scalp to feet. Her hips canted to the pressure he exerted. He pushed a finger into her, then another. She couldn’t support her head and leaned on the wall, her eyelids too heavy to lift.
    With excruciating slowness, he eased his fingers out and then plunged back in. And did it again and again, but not fast enough, not hard enough. A scrumptious heaviness fisted her chest and built uncomfortably, like a pressure cooker about to explode. He pinched that aching spot in the center of her folds, and she shattered, shuddering as her sex clamped around his fingers. The delicious contractions went on and on, and then she collapsed like a boneless rag