Brazilian Revenge (The Brazilians) Page 6

  Leonardo cleared his throat. He couldn’t even imagine what could have happened to their daughter. Sexual tourism was a reality in Brazil and so was human trafficking. What if Harry sold their baby to a couple desperate to become parents? No. He wouldn’t entertain those ideas until he had concrete evidence. And most of all, he couldn’t share them with Satyanna.

  Chapter Six

  “What if something bad happened to her? What if he sold her on the black market to folks who would do anything to adopt a baby?” she asked, all the doubts racing through her head. Hot tears burned against her eyelids, and she didn’t even try to blink them away. Ever since discovering their baby was still alive, Leonardo had been strong, ruthless, and focused. Never once did he consider what she had experienced.

  “I will get her back. Once we find Harry, we will find her.”

  She nodded. “She was inside me for eight months and I never even got to hold her. Not even once,” she said, a powerful lump knotting her throat. She let her head loll back, resting it against the books. For a moment she closed her eyes. “Ever since the moment I did the pregnancy test, I knew it was a girl.”

  The sound from his intake of breath sliced the air, but she didn’t move. She felt him walking toward her, erasing the distance between them. Or was it her impression? No. The strong footfalls on the polished dark wood floor weren’t just her imagination. “I loved her.”

  Gathering whatever strength she had left, she let out a long sigh and opened her eyes to find him watching her.

  “Leonardo…” she whispered, unsure of what to say next. There was a dangerous intensity in his eyes. Whenever he was that close to her, every bit of rationality deserted her.

  “You need to go to sleep.”

  “I don’t know that I can,” she said. Wasn’t that the truth? Her body begged her for some release, and staying up proved difficult after the emotionally draining day. But she had tried to go to sleep or at least lie on the bed without tossing and turning. Nope. Wasn’t happening, which was why she had come downstairs, hoping he’d have some miraculous good news. “I’m in a nightmare that I can’t wake up from.”

  She saw a lump making its way down his throat. Thrusting his hand into his hair, he kept her pinned with his unreadable stare. Ever since their paths crossed again she’d hoped for a sign, the tiniest hint he didn’t hate her so much. Well, he did, but for some reason right now that knowledge hurt her deeper than the beating from prison.

  “A part of me died when I lost her three months ago. If I lose her again, there’s no coming back from it,” she said in a strained tone. A couple sobs followed, and he pulled her to him, his arms wrapping around her in a tight hug.

  Without saying a word, she acquiesced, and rested her head on his chest. Even though the proximity set her heart on a wild race, the rest of her body loosened, relaxing if only for an instant.

  He shushed her, and she couldn’t believe the tender sound escaping from his lips. A warmth she wasn’t used to swept over her. Was it really happening? She clasped her arms around him, and the tears on her cheeks dried. Sighing into her hair, he gave her shoulder a light, friendly squeeze.

  Letting go right now was not an option. For the first time in months, she relaxed and forgot about all that was wrong in her life, all she couldn’t change—the loss of a proper childhood, of her daughter, and even of Harry. It was just too damn much to mourn, and the irony was she never attended any of those funerals. “Leonardo…” she said, her fingers fiddling with his collar even when he tried to disengage from her.

  The atmosphere shifted, and she realized his warm hug had turned into a hot promise. His body tensed up, spine locked into place. She didn’t need to glance down to notice the only part of him that couldn’t lie, growing against her belly.

  “Stay away from me.”

  “Why?” What kind of harm could she cause him when she was the one in his place, relying on his resources to find their daughter?

  He shook his head, and then took a deep breath. She almost expected him to turn on his heels and leave her there, alone and confused. “Because right now I’m no good for you. I’m a selfish bastard. A part of me wants to destroy you for all you put me through…but I also want to fuck you. Badly.”

  Little currents of desire surged through her. Fuck you. “Is there a difference?” she asked, her voice above a whisper. Was it wrong? To use him, even for a night, to help her shut down everything else?

  “Not tonight.” He captured her lips in a kiss. An electric shiver rushed through her, and she opened her mouth to welcome his searing tongue. Within seconds the kiss escalated, their tongues melded against each other, teeth clashing, breathing labored. Anxious, she arched toward him, afraid he would change his mind. She was hanging on to him almost as strongly as she hung on to the possibility of Lyanna being alive.

  Pushing her against the shelves, he groaned. A few books fell to the floor, and she shifted into a seated position on the edge of the heavy piece of furniture. He nipped her lower lip, teasing her, his hands hovering over her until they found the thin spaghetti straps on either side of the nightgown. Before she had a chance to lift her arms and remove it, he pushed the straps down so violently the flimsy fabric ripped.

  A gasp flew from her lips. Wow. As he removed what was left of the gown, she bit the inside of her cheek. Crap. Last time he’d seen her naked she had been confident about herself, about her body. This time was different.

  Perhaps sensing her uneasiness, he flashed her a smile, and his seal of approval twisted her insides into a sad, pathetic knot. He removed her underwear, and her thighs trembled. She splayed her hands on the edge, desperate for some support. When she thought he was going to come to her at once, he kneeled before her, and his head dipped down between her legs. She threw her head back. Oh no.

  Nudging her legs apart, he started to plant kisses on her prickling flesh, his teeth grazing over her skin. She squirmed, her body undulating. For how long would she be able to take it? Leonardo stroked her slick folds with his tongue. Not long.

  Thrusting her fingers into his hair, she sighed. Resolute, he continued to lick her and slid two fingers inside her. Was this punishment or privilege? Didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Wasn’t that why she chose to have sex with him? The promise of pleasure sizzled her nerve endings, and as he intensified the rhythm—his tongue playing, teasing, driving her mad—her clit turned into an oversensitive balloon about to burst. “Yes. Yes,” she moaned. Again and again.

  Encouraged, he flicked her clit with his thumb, and that did it—she shouted his name, ripples of pleasure swirling inside her, gaining force and speed, until all of her was one shaking mess. A glorious, exhilarating mess.

  “Don’t move,” he said.

  Well, hello, how could she move? Her body sizzled with the post oral-sex bliss; her legs weakened. Before she could rationalize, he produced a condom from his wallet and placed it next to her.

  She stretched out her hand and cupped the bulge in his pants. “This is not fair. I am fully naked, and you are still dressed.”

  “Who says anything has to be fair?” he said, and despite the light tone, there was an underlying pain in his eyes. Crap. Why did she even think they could have sex without mentioning their rocky past?

  “I do,” she said, arching toward him, her fingers fumbling with his Italian leather belt buckle. “It’s my night. I want to get the most out of it.”

  Unwilling to surrender, he gripped her wrists, and leaning toward her, pinned her against the shelf. Once again, a few books fell, thankfully none of them on her head.

  He lowered himself and kissed her. She could taste herself on his lips, and matched every teasing stroke of his tongue. One notch farther. Sure, he acted like he was in control and who was she kidding? No one was. The rock-hard erection in his pants couldn’t lie. Damn Leonardo. He wanted her, and that unleashed a wave of female empowerment through her.

  She fought his hold, shifting from side to side, but he tig
htened his grip on her. Slipping the tip of her tongue out, she licked her lips. He watched her, and the way his jaw clenched spoke almost of a negative reaction. For a second, she wondered if he would just leave her there, alone and unfulfilled. Sort of unfulfilled.

  “Damn you, Satyanna Darling.” He covered her lips with his and loosened his grip on her slowly. As the kiss grew hungrier, deeper, he let go of her hands until they fell to her sides. He groaned.

  She wrapped her legs around him, at this point not caring she wouldn’t be able to feast on his nakedness. Her pussy tingled with need, and if sexual awareness were an Olympic sport, she would be a gold medalist. He made invisible circles around her nipple, and the tip puckered. Although small, her breasts felt heavy. Full. Ready.

  He began to plant small kisses on her cheek, and soon his tongue was tracing along her neck. She touched his shoulders, marveling over his large frame. Despite his growling protest, she opened the top buttons of his shirt, her fingers sneaking inside to caress his salty, hot skin.

  He pulled down his pants. Heat claimed her neck and cheeks as she watched him rip the foil packet and roll on the condom. God, the man was massive.

  Without warning, he thrust into her, and for a split second she thought she would turn into some sort of ancient magical dust. Sneaking her nails into his shirt, she smiled. She searched for his face, but he simply buried it in her hair, and surprised her by withdrawing himself only to plunge into her again. Harder. Deeper.

  “Yes.” The sound flew past her mouth before she could rationalize it.

  Whatever their differences were…this was when it all came together. And he knew it, too—he had to. Was that why he didn’t even spare her a glance? The tantalizing rhythm continued, and at every thrust he reached a deeper part of her. She lifted her head and tried to cup his chin, but with no luck.

  “Turn around.” She obeyed, spinning to her wobbly legs and splaying her hands on the wood furniture. “Like this.”

  He gave her ass a couple of smacks, and a sting of pain coursed through her. As much as she wanted to protest, the little tremors warned her otherwise. She pondered whether she should look over her shoulder or not, but, too rebellious for her own good, she slanted him a glance.

  The image spilled a ball of fire into her belly. Half dressed, with his hair ruffled from her hands, he stood powerful and glorious. His eyes gleamed with control and lust. The smallest smile formed on his lips, almost as if he was fighting it. God. The man was sexy.

  He smacked her butt. “Look ahead.”

  She chuckled. “You’re bossy.”

  “And you want to come, don’t you?” He nudged her legs open, his fingers slipping into her damp sex. “Unless I’m wrong.”

  “I thought you were never wrong?” she asked with a misleading playful tone. Her hips undulated without her consent, and she was clearly on the edge.

  “Exactly.” He drove into her, and this time there was no stopping. With quick, fast, hard thrusts, he claimed her. She clutched the edge of the furniture, rocking her hips into him. Abandoned into a rapture of pleasure, she let the tremors go through her. For a seemingly endless amount of time, she quivered, both sated and spent.

  His release came right after. He intensified the plunges, and soon she heard a guttural sound slice the air. When he was done, he carefully slipped out of her.

  “You okay?” he asked, and she wasn’t sure if he meant that because that was the first time she’d had sex after pregnancy, or because she had just screwed him.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Turn around.”

  Standing up straight, she let go of the furniture. Sigh. When she spun on her heels, he held her nightgown in his hands. Now it was her turn to avoid glancing at him as she grabbed it from him and managed to pull it over her head.

  She was barely dressed when she felt a shift of movement, and that familiar warmth on her again. He scooped her from the floor, hands under her knees, and took her in his arms. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m giving you a lift to bed so you can sleep,” he said, as if this was his usual Friday night shenanigan. Her pulse raced like she was on a freaking triathlon.

  I can walk, you know. Sex was fabulous, but—She bit her lip and willed her sass away. The minute she rested her head on his shoulder, hearing his steady breath was peace. Almost better than sex. Certainly as good.

  She quivered.

  “Are you cold?” he asked when he laid her on the mattress.

  “Nope. I’m fine,” she lied.

  She opted for staring at the ceiling so he wouldn’t see the tear forming at the corner of her eye. God. She was a mess, and there was no end in sight. “Good night, Leonardo.”

  He flicked off the light. “Good night, Satyanna,” he said, before striding out of her room.

  Chapter Seven

  Leonardo tossed on the bed. Again.

  Grunting, he turned around and sat. The sheets were warm, but not because of hot, languid lovemaking. Like what they’d done in the library hours earlier. No. He glided his hand on the soft Egyptian cotton. Ever since he tried to lie down to sleep he’d flipped from side to side like a dolphin.

  I’m an asshole. He’d taken advantage of her. It didn’t matter she acted like she’d wanted every bit of their sexual rendezvous as much as he. She was tortured, suffering, and he didn’t leash his raging hormones. Sighing, he surged to his feet. He slipped on his pajama pants, aware he could no longer sleep in the nude if she was staying with him. What if she needed something and stormed in his room in the middle of the night? He had to enforce at least some decorum. For how long? What would happen after they found Lyanna?

  One problem at a time. Shaking his head, he slipped out of his room. He’d go downstairs to the library and send out some emails. He would take any distraction to keep his mind occupied until morning came.

  Before he even crossed her room, he noticed the light trespassing under the door. Frowning, he slowed his steps. Was she still awake? She needed some rest after the past couple days, even he knew that. Sucking in his breath, he closed the distance between him and the door.

  He felt, rather than heard, the frantic pacing on the travertine tile. So she was having a hard time falling asleep, too. He palmed the polished stainless-steel handle. Why would he get involved? He’d made one mistake already. Why did his fingers tremble with need to storm inside and help her? That wasn’t his job. That wasn’t his goal.

  He clasped the door handle, and, without delay, twisted it and opened the door.

  Shit. She moved frantically from one side to the other, barefoot, and with her hands perched at her waist. A good amount of hair kept falling on her face as she spun, which was why it took her a minute to notice when he stood in the middle of the room, legs apart. His spine locked into place when his eyes found hers.

  Fear. Her irises darkened to a forest green, and there was a gloom paralyzing her expression. A sheen of sweat covered her forehead, cheeks, and neckline, even though the air conditioning was on. The nightgown from earlier adorned her. “W-what are you doing here?” she said, eyebrows shooting to her hairline. “Is there any news? Do you know something?”

  He lifted his hands in denial. “No news, yet. I was going downstairs and saw you were up. What’s going on?” he asked for the sake of asking. It was obvious she was going through some sort of anxiety attack.

  “No news.” She plopped on the bed and started to fan herself. “I-I can’t breathe.”

  He did a quick scan of the room, but didn’t find a paper bag or anything else she could breathe into. “You can breathe,” he said, and sat next to her. He’d once read that focusing on the breathing part could make the person even more nervous. So maybe he had to distract her. “I’m here with you.” He grabbed her hand in his, and gave it a light squeeze. Her palm was slick with cold sweat.

  His heart raced like he was the one panicking. “It’s okay. Take a deep breath, and tell me what you wanna do once we find Lyanna. Talk about that.�
��

  “I-I…” She took a deep breath, and clasped his hand like she didn’t want to let go of him. A strange sensation bolted through him, igniting some sort of protective response within him. Despite what had happened, she was the mother of his child, and he wanted, no, needed, for her to be well. “I want to take her to the beach. Not right away, but I’d like to do that someday.”

  Nodding, he stared deep into her eyes. “What else?”

  Satyanna’s face was pale, but at least she was talking to him. “Central Park. I’ve dreamed of doing that while I was pregnant.”

  Central Park in New York City. He felt the contours of his face tightening, but he willed the uneasiness away. They would find Lyanna first, then iron out the details. The last thing he wanted was for his daughter to travel so soon. Certainly not without him. “What else?”

  “I want to be there for her. I want her to know she has a mother.”

  “Weren’t you adopted as a baby?” he asked, remembering the bits of information Ulisses had been able to dig on her.

  “Yes, by a widow. I called her Mom. But when I was nine she dated this guy, who married her. And he…wasn’t nice to me.”

  “I’m sorry.” All he’d known was that her mother had died and she’d been under the care of Arnold Wallace, her stepfather, who ended up giving legal rights to the State because he’d ruled her a difficult, incorrigible child. What kind of man would simply give up on a kid like that?

  A tear rolled down her cheek. “He wanted to do things to me, and because I didn’t let him, he beat me.”

  Anger pumped thick into his bloodstream, and he cursed under his breath. She was telling the truth, and he knew it in his gut. She was also breathing normally, even though tears bordered her eyes. “What happened to him?”

  “Last I heard, he died of an overdose. I just wanted out of there.”

  “I can’t express the kind of monster this excuse for a man was, Satyanna. If I could erase it, I would.” He wiped the tears from her face with his index finger.