MORE STARS PEEKED THROUGH THE darkened sky, and the pinks and lavenders behind the wispy clouds had faded to a somber purple. The shadows around them disappeared into the fresh night, cuing the symphony of crickets and frog songs.

The exact color of Miguel’s eyes had faded in the dark, but the sheen of his irises fixed solely on Gemma.

He wants me.

The trembling in her hands started when he paused before he answered her last question. Her dodgy past and rough exterior had, up to this point, scared her into believing he wouldn’t want her. Wouldn’t see through her self-defense mechanisms. But he did. Her heart kicked into overdrive at the thought, and her tongue became too swollen to speak.

Miguel licked his lips and leaned towards her. His fingers settled over her hand and squeezed, the warmth of his skin only a scant degree off the heat filling her face.

But he was still holding back. Every part of him was turned towards her, inching closer with every exhale, but he wouldn’t connect. The passion, the rawness of him simmered just under the surface, waiting to be unleashed. Whatever restrained him, whatever controlled him, was much stronger.

With one inaudible gasp, Gemma figured it out.

It’s me. I control him. I restrain him.

She would have smiled if it weren’t so electrifying.

Gemma reached out and gripped the back of his neck, pulling him forward. Like the jolt of a starting gun, he released the floodgates. He consumed her, literally barreling her over onto the quilt, and dove into her. His mouth sealed against hers and his whole weight pressed her into the soft blanket. She had to tighten her grip on his neck and shoulder to keep the world from spinning out, but she never once took her gaze from his. Eyes that devoured her as much as his tongue, now sweeping into her mouth and tangling with her own.

Honey and whiskey. Sweet and smoky simultaneously, and Gemma wanted to get drunk on the taste of him. She wrapped her legs around his thighs and curled her fingers into his wavy hair, meshing herself to his body. Everything around her hummed with life.

Miguel slanted his head and moved deeper into her mouth. He cupped her jaw and slowly moved down her neck and shoulder. The heat grew between her thighs, as did the bulge pressing into her pelvis.

Though his hands were rushed and powerful, they were also skilled and gentle. His wrist still managed to tease her nipples through her lilac lace bra while he deftly unbuttoned her shirt. In a matter of seconds, the air graced her skin, raising goose bumps across her belly. When she arched against him, he reached underneath her to unclasp her bra, pulling the fabric away. The breeze danced across her skin and her stomach fluttered, but then jumped when his hot breath covered a nipple. His tongue swirled and laved, wrenching a moan from deep within her throat. The more gasps she made, the faster he went. The harder he sucked. When he pulled back and blew across her wet areola, she bucked.

Achingly slow, he licked across the valley between her breasts and hovered over the other nipple. If her heart thumped any harder, it would’ve punched him in the cheek. Tingles raced down into her core and pooled between her thighs. The urge to grind against him swallowed her control. Everything about him was hot. Too hot. Including the feel of the rest of her clothes.

With a quick jerk, she ripped his shirt open and buttons scattered. André chuckled, or growled, and brought his lips back to her mouth. She pulled the shirt free of his arms and sank her hands into his skin. He smiled through Gemma’s movements, which she wiped off his face by sealing her lips against his and sucking the breath from his lungs. His broad hand grabbed her jaw and tilted her head so his tongue could go deeper. The power in his movements and fingers were strong—unyielding. Like he was used to being in the driver’s seat and only now learned how to relinquish control. The kind of force a tough girl like her welcomed.

Sliding her hands down his abdomen made his muscles flex and quiver. Tight and hard. But not as hard as the swell in his pants when she groped him.

“Así,” he breathed, low in his chest and nibbled on her lip. “Like that, mi amor.”

Something dissolved in her mind at the sound of his voice, the need in his words against her ear. Her few remaining reservations evaporated, and all she could hear was him. His slight accent, his heartbeat, his breathing, his skin soaking her in.

With a swift move, she unclasped his belt and unzipped his jeans. Somehow, they managed to remove his boots and strip the rest of him without disconnecting their lips. But when his full glory jutted out between his thighs, she pulled back. He was long, thick and hard. And trimmed. With a single, beady drop glistening at the tip.

“Wow,” she managed.

“You still have far too many clothes on,” he rasped, a shade of pink tingeing his cheeks. His strong hands gripped her hips and maneuvered her between his legs. By the time she rediscovered how to breathe, he’d already unzipped her and shimmied the denim past her knees, panties and all.

When he moaned at the sight of her, she almost lost it. “You’re already wet for me, Gemma. I can’t help myself.” Without another word, he sucked on his middle finger and then glided it over her sex. Slow, thorough and relentless.

Gemma jerked and bucked with every millimeter of his caress. He was right. She was more than ready. Closer to bursting than she’d anticipated. Faster and hotter than in the shower.

The only break she got was when he paused to remove her boots and yank the jeans off, bunched around her calves.

He sank between her legs, pushing her knees apart with his shoulder, and gripped her buttocks. The gentle touches of his tongue along her folds made her squirm. But as she became more restless beneath him, he only held tighter, and his tongue more liberal. After tasting every inch of her sex, he finally settled on the most responsive part. Her clit throbbed with heat and pressure. He sucked on it like a lollipop, rubbing it with his tongue faster and faster. Yes, so much better than the shower. Gemma braced her feet on his back, but his smooth skin only made them glide down to the curve of his butt.

Just before she plunged over the edge, he pulled back and blew on the sensitive nub. She bucked and cried out, the scream echoing off the trees. But he held onto her hips and continued to blow across her sizzling skin.

The release was right there. If she could only lift her hips another inch or his tongue circle around her sex once more, she’d fall. Right into oblivion.

But he stopped and sat up. He reached for his jeans and dug around in his pockets. All the while, his cock had grown longer and dripped with his arousal. Gemma backslid down the climb and wiped the sweat from the back of her neck.

The purple in the sky was gone, and the only remaining light came from the moon over her head. The pale light glowed over Miguel’s maple skin and reflected off the sheen of sweat beaded at his temples.

“You must make a living off of leaving women wanting more,” she breathed. He looked too good, too god-like, to be a simple country boy from Colombia. Tan and tone. He groomed himself down there. Every muscle was accentuated between the shadows of the thin clouds, including the intensity etched on his face—wild and raw.

“Only for two or three heartbeats, preciosa.” He tore open a foil packet. With the ease of practice, he slipped the condom down his shaft. Then fixed his dark eyes squarely on her, like going into battle. “Makes everything build higher for a bigger fall.”

That look made her stop backsliding. The heat in her core kicked up another notch, and her hips squirmed beneath him. Anticipation alone could make her squeal in release, but just with Miguel.

The man knew he could please a woman thoroughly. The confidence was written all over his face. Every precise flick of his tongue proved that. But can he handle something rougher?

Gemma smiled at the thought and pushed herself up. As Miguel’s eyes widened, she relished in the ability to surprise. To overpower. Gripping his shoulders, she pushed him back on the quilt and straddled his thighs. She’d have him breathing as hard as her in no time at all. His dark gaze took on a playful smile as he held her hips over him. Gemma slowly moved her sex along his shaft, up and down, until he was wet and slick. Miguel closed his eyes and moaned, but never released his grip.

Gemma’s smile grew as she repeated the action, reveling in the pleasure on his face. She raised herself up and grabbed his cock, positioning the tip at her entrance. Like mounting a saddle, she sank onto him, sliding firmly to the hilt and settling into the feel of him. With one quick cry, Miguel clamped his eyes shut and his fingers dugs into her skin. She held him there, letting her body adjust to the fullness.

“Let’s see how long you can hold on.” Gemma smirked, circling her pelvis and grinding in. Miguel’s eyes flashed, just before he groaned and bit his lower lip. His erection pushed against the very back of her, and she ached at the pressure. Sitting on top of him, possessing the control, only made it sweeter.

Miguel opened his eyes and massaged her breasts. “I’ll hold onto these for the ride.” He grinned and lightly pinched her taut nipples. “Or better yet…” He sat up and placed a hand on her upper back, urging her forward so he could suckle on the tips. She let him for a few seconds, but only because each swirl of his tongue sent electric shocks to her clit. After five or six jolts to her pleasure center, she pushed him back against the quilt.

His lips were red and swollen, but it was his eyes flashing with desire she craved. “A woman needs room to ride.” On the last word, she ground into him, deep and circling her hips. She pulled on his shoulder for leverage as she leaned back, forcing him deeper into her channel and rode him, again and again. Each plunge wrenched either a gasp or Spanish curse from his lips. Each one driving her crazier with lust. In and out she went, slowly at first, letting the tip come just to her opening before thrusting full to the base. With every squeeze of her muscles, he pinched harder on her nipples until she cried out. She covered his hands with her own, pressing harder.

Sweat glistened on his perfect chest, and touching it to absorb the heat churned her faster. He moved one hand lower and rubbed his thumb along her clit, the other hand still pinching her nipple. The ache flamed inside her when he pursued the little nub with the same vigor as his tongue. She lurched and shivered and licked the salty sweat from her lips. The coiled tension was almost painful.

“Come for me, Gemma,” he panted, clearly on the brink of his release.

If she wanted to, she could. Any second. But some part of her wanted to see how long she could hold him there. Keep him hovering just over that edge without stepping off.

She slowed her pace to barely a trot and grabbed his hand from her sex. When his eyes narrowed, she smiled. “Only when I say so.”

Worry lines filled his forehead, and his jaw line tightened, fighting back his release. But his eyes lit up. She couldn’t hold back a laugh.

Her natural lube glistened on his thumb in the moonlight. The urge came from a dark, animalistic side of her. She pulled his hand to her mouth, closed her lips around his thumb and sucked, hard.

“Cristo bendito!” Miguel gasped, eyes wide. His shaft pulsed faster inside her. “Holy fuck, Gemma—”

“Mm-mm,” she hummed around his thumb, licking her own sweet fluid. “Not yet.” With a growing smile, she guided his hand back to her free breast and kneaded her flesh over his fingers.

As he fought for a deep breath, sweat trickled down his hairline. He closed his eyes, no doubt trying to delay his orgasm. The bridle she kept him under burned her fervor even hotter.

Time to build him up to a gallop.

“Look at me,” she ordered softly. When he opened his eyes again, holding her in his gaze, she rewarded him by circling her hips and grinding a touch faster. His lips parted in a gasp, and he pushed his hips up into her pelvis. She moaned and moved his hands to her ass. “Squeeze me and bite your lip.”

His firm fingers dug into her flesh with a painful pleasure. He bit his lip so hard it looked swollen. She circled her hips again and moved to a faster rhythm just for him.

“Me enciendes, Gemma. I’m on fire. I’m going to—”

“Hold back, Miguel. Almost.”

His face flickered with something she couldn’t identify, and somehow he pulled back his climax. More sweat trickled down his chest.

Now we’re cantering. Let’s see if he can go one more lap.

Gemma stopped for half a heartbeat to swing one knee over his body, and then resumed her rhythmic deep grind, only sidesaddle.

Her muscles tensed and quivered, but not as much as Miguel, who gripped her ass harder from the tighter squeeze.

The sweet torture on his face kicked her heart rate off the charts, and she could scarcely breathe. She pushed harder and faster, barely able to stay on top of him during the final gallop. But she held on, letting the fire build and engulf her entire body.

Her climax crashed into her full force, and only then did she close her eyes, the explosion too great to keep them open.

Her scream bounced off the treetops, fluttering the birds to flight. Everything pulsed, wave after exquisite wave, and the sky spun blissfully overhead. Miguel growled louder and pushed her over onto the quilt without pulling out. She landed on her knees and braced herself. He pumped into her from behind, pulling her ass into his pelvis, rigorous and desperate for the final turn.

On the last thrust, he pulled her back so hard, her knees lifted off the quilt. Oh my God. When he cried out in release, Gemma still trembled from her own muscle spasms. But she reached back and grabbed his leg, letting her body milk him for every drop. As long as her sensitive nerves could hold him, she’d keep that magnificent cock inside her all night.

Miguel dropped his head on her back and kissed her sweat-covered skin. By then, she couldn’t hold herself up anymore and collapsed onto the quilt. He landed beside her, partially draped over her backside and his arm crushed under her belly.

“Increíble,” he panted into her ear. “Are you sure your name isn’t really Aphrodite?”

Gemma didn’t have the breath to laugh, but she tried and turned her head toward him. Their faces were closer together than she expected, so she kissed him, tasting his smile and rubbing her tongue along his lips. “As certain as yours is Miguel.”

His brow crinkled and the smile slipped. Before she could wipe the wrinkles from his forehead, he pulled his arm out from underneath her and pushed up to his feet. He stepped away, keeping his back turned, and removed the condom. Marveling at the sight of his tight cheeks wasn’t half as fun as she anticipated with that cold brush off.

“What’s wrong, Miguel?”

The muscles in his tanned shoulders flexed as he dragged his fingers through his hair and focused on the dark sky overhead. Doubt coiled in her gut, and she glanced back at the quilt, the outline of their bodies still wrinkled in the fabric.

“Don’t call me that,” he sighed, still refusing to turn.

A cold sweat trembled down her back. “Call you what? Your name?”

He buried his face in his hands and mumbled a curse.

She reached for her bra, but couldn’t find it. Instead, she grabbed her shirt and slipped it over her shoulders. Next were her panties and jeans. All the while, he’d refused to look at her. Or say anything. And it pissed her off.

“I get it,” she bit out and put on her boots, one jerk at a time. “This was just a romp on vacation for you. A country girl on a dusty ranch.” As she stood, she scooped up the quilt and rolled it into a bunch. “You just wanted to see if you could.”

The hard edge to her voice stirred the horses and Butterscotch stood from a patch of clovers. Miguel didn’t acknowledge anything behind him. Heat flooded her cheeks—the wrong kind.

“Now that you got what you wanted, you’re ready to bolt.” Gemma’s voice cracked on the last word and she clenched her fists into the quilt.

Sickening how familiar this situation is. Or should I say ironic?

Miguel finally turned, but only to gather his clothes. Not that he was shy; he continued to pluck his garments from the grass without bothering to conceal his still-incredible manhood.

His naked form was too perfect. It was impossible to fight with a bare-assed man who stole every word from her mouth. God is so unfair sometimes.

“Dammit, Miguel. Talk to me.”

He whirled around. “Stop calling me that!” he snapped. But at least he looked her in the eye.

“Miguel, Miguel, Miguel!” She roared back, throwing the quilt in his face. He scratched it away, landing in a heap at his feet.

“I made a mistake, Gemma,” he bit out between clenched teeth.

The words slapped her in the face. Words she couldn’t punch away. But damn her if she wouldn’t try.

“Wait, that’s not what I meant.” Miguel’s eyes widened as he realized his mistake. “Not this, Gemma. This was—”

She’d stopped listening before he’d opened his mouth. Four large strides closed the distance between them and she shoved him up against the tree. He winced at the bark digging into his back.

“Let me explain. I meant—”

“You’ve said enough,” she growled, damning the coffee eyes pleading back at her. Butterscotch and Sniper trotted away from them, only to graze on another patch of grass. Even they could feel her wrath and were smart enough to move away.

“You’re not a fling to me, Gemma.” His stare had turned hard and unyielding. “This is not a vacation for me. I have to be careful who I talk to and what I say. You already know too much about me to—”

“I don’t know anything about you, Miguel,” she yelled to keep the tears from building. Instead she focused on the anger. Let it race through her until the full weight of her words gripped her heart. I don’t know anything about him. I slept with him without really knowing him. “Shit!” she screamed aloud and turned away. I did it again. I thought I was finished with that part of me.

Something in the grass a few yards away caught her gaze. The used condom.

“Pick that up!” she roared.

“What?” Miguel had slipped on his boxer briefs and shrugged on his jeans. “No one’s going to see that. We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“You will not leave it out here for some animal to choke on.”

“There’s a pile of horse shit three feet away from it.”

“Funny. There’s six-foot pile of shit in front of me. Throw it away somewhere else.”

“You really want me to put it in Reyna’s trashcan?” He zipped up his jeans. Her insult must have bounced off his distracting pectoral muscles, because he never acknowledged it.

“Of course not.”

“Didn’t they say you had your own place around here? How about there?”

“You are not setting a foot in my cabin.”

His gaze turned dark. The sudden shift in his stance, more deliberate and dominating, made her freeze. He stood there, shirtless with far too much raw and wild appeal. The jeans sat low on his hips revealing a defined V of his pelvis. She could lick her way across it, if she weren’t so disgusted by the turn of events. When the wrinkles on his forehead erased, her lips parted.

“I have the best evening of my life, despite the world crumbling around my head,” he rumbled. “And less than a minute later you’ve called me a pile of shit and unworthy to see your home?”

His single chuckle carried no humor.

“You called me a mistake.”

“Not you, Gemma,” he growled again. “Deja de poner palabras en mi boca.”

“I don’t have to put words in your mouth; your own are damning enough.”

Gemma whirled and clicked her tongue at Butterscotch, who slowly approached with a flicking tail. Gemma met the horse halfway and stroked her neck, calming the jittery mare as well as her own nerves. Horses could sense negative energies, and riding one in this state could break her neck.

Butterscotch licked her other hand when she untied the rope, and Gemma pulled herself into the saddle. Miguel’s frown didn’t match his delectable physique, still far too attractive for his own good as he stood there gripping his shirt in one hand, the other on his waist. In a few seconds, she pushed Butterscotch to a gallop, telling herself that looking back was just to make sure Miguel hadn’t followed. When the hill disappeared into the dark behind her, she almost believed it.