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His voice was rougher, but whether that was lust or anger at my objection, I wasn’t sure.
    I took in a deep breath, trying not to stare at the muscled beauty that was his chest. Even in the low lighting, he was the most stunning thing I’d ever seen.
    “Not here,” I said, giving my head a slight shake for lucidity. “Unless I’m not good enough to have sex with in a bed?” I added, managing to sound both hurt and offended, if a bit breathless.
    Rafael let out a husky laugh before gathering me close. “Fear not, my sweet. I won’t be finished with foreplay before we arrive.”
    His mouth covered mine again, taking my breath away with the raw hunger in his kiss. He didn’t pause to tease my lips this time but delved past them with commanding purpose. Those hot, skillful flicks of his tongue made that buzzing return in my head, as if his mouth had the ability to intoxicate me. I didn’t protest this time when he began to unbutton my blouse, telling myself I didn’t want to make him suspicious, but the truth was that I burned to feel his hands on my skin. Every adolescent imagining I’d ever had was left in the dust at the reality of how incredible it felt to touch him, taste him. Feel the slide of his flesh as his mouth erotically ravished mine, hinting at what a few hundred years of experience could do.
    That scorching mouth dipped to my neck at the same moment his palms cupped my breasts, brushing aside my bra. My head fell back as a harsh groan came out of me. He sucked my throat while his thumbs seared across my nipples in the same relentless rhythm as the friction of our lower bodies. I couldn’t think anymore, and I couldn’t keep my hands from traveling up his chest and over his shoulders. The feel of his skin was addictive, each flex and bunch of his muscles flaring even more heat through my core. Some stubborn bit of conscience nagged that I should stop, but I ignored it. So what if things went further than I’d originally intended? I’d still do what needed to be done when the time came.
    “Mara,” he breathed, suddenly ceasing his unbelievable stroking of my breasts to catch my hands. “Stop.”
    “Why?” I burst out before recalling that stopping would be a good thing.
    “I can keep from taking you here, now, as long as you don’t touch me like that,” he replied in a tight voice.
    Like what? I’d only been caressing his shoulders, not usually the spot of no return for a man. But then Rafael kissed me, sitting up to press his body against mine, and my thoughts reeled at the contact of his hard flesh against my sensitive breasts.
    He pulled my free leg around him, the other one trapped under the tangle of my skirt, to rock me against his hips while his chest flattened my breasts. That hard bulge raked against my most sensitive part, the pressure building with each strong, undulating stroke, until finally I cried out as rapture shattered within me.
    It spread from my loins into what felt like every vein, filling my body with hot, silken throbs. I couldn’t stop the gasps that Rafael absorbed between deep, branding kisses as I shuddered, those throbs turning into waves of sweetness. I felt like I was melting, sinking into his skin with each ripple of ecstasy, and if he wouldn’t have held me, I’d have tumbled onto the carriage floor.
    “This is what I’ve waited for,” he muttered thickly when I tore my mouth from his to take in gulps of air. He stroked my hair away from my face, still holding me with his other arm, the flickering candlelight revealing a look of triumph and possessiveness on his face.
    Confusion and embarrassment competed with euphoria from the spine-tingling orgasm. So much for “acting” with Rafael! Ten minutes into making out and he’d blown away anything my two former lovers had made me feel—all without taking off his pants or kissing me below the neck. If this was what he could do to me with foreplay, I might die from pleasure overload if I actually had sex