Fonseca's Fury

‘Luca, what are you doing?’

But the defensive tartness was gone out of her voice.

He pulled her in closer, the darkness wrapping around them but failing to hide that bright blue gaze or the gold of her hair. The slant of her stunning cheekbones.

She wasn’t pulling away.

Luca’s body was on fire. From somewhere he found his voice and it sounded coarse, rough. ‘What am I doing?’

‘This...’

And then he pulled her right into him and his mouth found hers with unerring precision. Her breasts swelled against his chest—in outrage? He didn’t know, because he was falling over the very thin edge of his control.

When he felt her resistance give way after an infinitesimal moment, triumph surged through his body. He couldn’t think any more, because he was swept up in the decadent darkness of a kiss that intoxicated him and reminded him of only one other similar moment...with her...seven years before.

CHAPTER FIVE

SERENA WAS STILL in shock at finding herself in Luca’s arms with his mouth on hers. When he’d woken her at first, she’d had an almost overwhelming instinctive need to burrow close to him, the tentacles of that horrible nightmare clinging like slimy vines to her hot skin.

And then she’d realised just who she was with—just who was precipitating such weak feelings of wanting to seek strength and comfort. Luca Fonseca, of all people? And that dream... She hadn’t had it for a long time—not since she’d been in rehab. And to be having it again, here, was galling. As if she was going backwards. Not forwards. And it was all his fault, for getting under her skin.

Fresh anger made her struggle futilely against Luca’s superior strength even after she’d let the hot tide of desire take her over, revealing how much she wanted him. She pulled back, ripping her mouth from his, mortified to find herself breathing harshly, her breasts moving rapidly against the steel wall of his chest, nipples tight and stinging.

Her body and her mind seemed to be inhabiting two different people. Her body was saying Please don’t stop and her head was screaming Stop now!

‘What is it, minha beleza?’

The gravelly tone of Luca’s voice rubbed along her nerve-endings, setting them alight. Traitors.

‘Do you really think this is a good idea?’

Dammit. She sounded as if she wanted him to convince her that it was, her voice all breathy.

His eyes were like black pits in his face and Serena was glad she couldn’t make out their expression. She half expected Luca to come to his senses and recoil, but instead he seemed to move even closer. His hands slipped down her arms and came around her back, making her feel quivery at how light his touch was—and yet it burned.

‘Luca...?’

‘Hmm...?’

His mouth came close again and his lips feathered a kiss to her neck. Liquid fire spread through Serena’s pelvis. Damn him.

She swallowed, her body taking over her mind, making her move treacherously closer to that huge hard body.

‘I don’t think this is a good idea. We’ll regret it.’

Luca pulled back for a moment and said throatily, ‘You think too much.’

And then he was covering her mouth with his again, and any last sliver of defence or righteous anger at how vulnerable he made her feel drained away. She was drowning in his strength. Mouth clinging to his, skin tightening all over as he coaxed her lips apart to explore deeper with his tongue. His kiss seven years ago had seared itself onto her memory like a brand. This was like being woken from a deep sleep. She’d never really enjoyed kissing or being touched by men...until him. And now this.

Barely aware of the fact that Luca was pulling down the zips of their sleeping bags, she only knew that there was nothing between them now, and that he was pulling her on top of him so her breasts were crushed against his broad chest.

Both hands were on her head, fingers thrust deep into her hair, and Luca positioned her so that he could plunder her mouth with devastating skill. Serena could feel herself getting damp between her legs.

Luca drew back for a moment and Serena opened her eyes, breathing heavily. With a smooth move he manoeuvred them so that Serena was on her back and loomed over her. He looked wild, feral. Exactly the way she imagined the marauding Portuguese conquistadores must have looked when they’d first walked on this land.

He smoothed some hair behind her ear and Serena’s breath grew choppier. Her fingers itched to touch him, to feel that chest, so when his head lowered to hers again her hands went to the buttons of his shirt and undid them, sliding in to feel the dense musculature of his chest.

She was unable to hold back a deep sound of satisfaction as her hands explored, revelling in his strength. She dragged her fingers over his chest, sliding over the ridges of his muscles, a nail grazing a flat hard nipple. Her mouth watered. She wanted to taste it.