Page 19 of Brazilian Revenge

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?

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