Goddammit, how could her brilliant mind get this so fucking wrong?

“Not only will you live, you’ll be more alive than you’ve ever been.” He withdrew his grip and strode up the path without waiting for her.

When he reached the stone wall of their destination, she caught up with him, arms crossed over her chest, gaze lowered, demeanor subdued. Scaring her hadn’t been his intention. Or maybe it had been. Either way, he wanted the light to return to her eyes.

He paused at a heavy wooden door, watching her closely. His hands felt sweaty, his throat parched and scratchy.

“What is this place?” Her gaze skittered along the eight-foot-high rock wall, tracing the length left to right where it faded into the jungle in both directions.

“Go ahead.” He gestured at the retinal scanner that was bolted into the stone. “This is the only entrance. The wall keeps out most of the critters, but we still have problems with monkeys and large birds.”

His pulse hammered as she leveled her eye with the security panel. He rubbed his palms on his jeans as she pushed open the door. Then he followed her in, clinging to her every movement as she gazed upon the landscape that had taken him a decade to recreate.

Her hands flew to her chest, her gait faltering mid-stride beside the first row of orange trees. Her head swung right, toward the acre that housed kumquat, tangerine, grapefruit, and lime trees.

“Holy shit.” Her mouth fell open, and her steps sped up, still unsteady but her excitement palpable.

She walked beneath the limbs, her hand reaching upward. He remained at her side, devouring the bright glow of her eyes, the tremble in her chin, and tentative way she brushed her fingers over the leaves as if she couldn’t believe they were real.

She halted suddenly, her attention directed straight ahead on the lemon grove. Her breath cut off. Then she gulped raggedly, again and again, her hand lifting to cover her mouth as the other reached out, blindly searching for his.

He caught her fingers, lacing them with his own, and inhaled the deepest, fullest breath he’d ever taken.

Four hundred flowering trees spread across the secluded five-acre grove, infusing every particle in the air with tranquil memories. There was only one scent as sweet as the fragrance of citrus blossoms, only one sight as beautiful, and she was finally here.

Her wide, unblinking eyes took in the delicate buds, the vibrant colors of the fruit, and the fertilized soil, and he knew she appreciated the labor and passion in a way that had connected them since they were small children. She appreciated his tribute to her.

“How did you—? You did all this…” She stepped toward the nearest lemon tree and gripped tighter to his hand, pulling him with her as she studied the healthy branches. “They’re… God, they must be ten years old?”

“Yes.” His voice broke, and he cleared it. “Yeah, I’ve been at it a while. But I’ve had help. Hired one of the best citrus farmers in Florida about eight years ago.”

“Nico let you do this? I mean…wow. There must be four or five acres here.”

“Five acres. Four hundred trees. And Nico…” A smile pulled at his mouth. “He questions everything I do.”

Most of his arguments with the other man had been over the necessity of the eight-foot wall.

She didn’t let go of his hand as she entered the lane between two rows of lemon trees, scattering the bees that hovered around the blooms. Twisted branches arced over the path and tangled together, forming a living trellis of deep green foliage and dangling fruit.

When she tilted her head upward, a tear glistened on her cheek. She swatted it away with a soft smile on her lips.

“It’s just like home. The planting pattern. The archway. Every detail.” She stopped walking and turned toward him, her gaze on the inked leaves on his forearm, her fingers squeezing tighter around his. “You did this because you missed it?”

He lifted her chin with his free hand and held her gaze. “I missed you.”

She pulled her head back, and her focus slipped away, seeking the trees, the ground, their entwined hands. When she returned to his eyes, hers were wet with regret. But there was hope there, too.

“A five-acre grove recreating our childhood. Because you missed me.” She touched his jaw, the line of his throat, her gaze following the movement. “I understand you were taken by the Restrepos, and I assume you didn’t rise to the top-level in the span of a year. So you must’ve started as a lackey? Is that why you didn’t come back for me?”

“Camila—”

“I was there, Matias. Right there in that grove waiting for you for a year before…” She swallowed. “Before it was too late.”

“I couldn’t.” He released her hand and crushed her against him, holding her face to his chest as his insides rioted with invidious memories. “The men who found me—”

“Found you?”

Fuck. He should’ve chosen a different word. “The people who came for me that day made threats.”

“What kind of threats?”

She tried to lift her head, but he held her in place so she wouldn’t see the vulnerability in his expression. He was having a hell of a time evening his voice.

“They threatened everyone I cared about.” He pressed a kiss to her head. “Specifically you.”

She stiffened against him. “Why? What did they want?”

He couldn’t explain that part without unraveling every fucking thing he’d tried so hard to protect her from. “Camila, there are things I can’t tell—”

Her fist slammed against his abs, not with any kind of force, but hard enough to break free of his hold. She spun away, her face emblazoned with rage.

“You knew about my family.” She balled her hands at her sides. “The day I called you, when I escaped, you told me not to contact them.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you tell me they were dead?”

“Lower your voice.” He folded his hands behind his back and widened his stance.

She glanced around, but the rows of trees blocked her view of the wall. “Is someone here?”

“No one has access to the grove besides Nico, the caretaker, you, and me.”

“Is Nico meeting us here?” She pulled on her ear nervously, her attention darting through the branches, as if she were torn between pursuing this conversation and focusing on her end goal.

“He’s waiting for us in the gazebo.” He turned and pointed down the path through the lemon trees. “Just through there.”

“We probably shouldn’t keep him waiting then.” She moved to walk past him but paused, her gaze lingering on his face.

She’d spent the past two weeks watching everything and everyone around her. There were slaves on the property, in her periphery, kneeling beside her at dinner, all of them gagged in her presence to prevent communication. But just as he’d hoped, the bulk of her searching had been focused on him, on what he knew and what he was hiding.

He needed her to not only see the truth for herself, but to see him, the man she was meant to love.

“Your uncle died in that fire, with my family.” With trembling fingers, she brushed the tattoo on his forearm.

It wasn’t a question, so he remained still and quiet beneath her rare touch.

“I’m sorry.” She dropped her hand, letting it hang at her side. “I’ve been so angry, so suspicious about what happened to them, I’ve lost sight of the fact that you lost him, too.”

He didn’t have a regretful bone in his body with regard to that old man. But as far as she knew, his parents had died when he was an infant and the uncle who had raised him on the grove was the only family he’d had. None of that was true.

With an arm raised in the direction of the gazebo, he waited for her to move then followed behind.

Her jean-clad legs carried her out of the lemon grove, the subtle sway of her ass unintentionally seductive in her determination. Despite the confident way she carried herself, he suspected each step twisted her up with nerves. He wished he could carry h

er out of there and save them both a lot of potential pain.

They turned the corner, and the gazebo came into view. Seated at the table, Nico glanced up from his phone, his brows heavy over dark eyes and mouth turned downward in his usual relaxed expression.

She looked back at Matias, her brown eyes hesitant. Then she blinked, and her focus cleared, her features hardening.

He molded his face into something that resembled self-assurance. He was ninety-nine percent certain he knew how this would end. But it was that one-percent that sank his stomach with dread.

A SWARM OF BEES TOOK FLIGHT in Camila’s stomach as she stepped into the gazebo and met Nico’s demoralizing glare. He rarely looked into her eyes, as in not once since she arrived in Colombia. But sometimes she sensed him watching. Like it was his job to watch her without her noticing.

His elusive observance was so much better than this in-her-face staring.

“Matias’ little happy place suits you.” Nico’s gaze subtly skimmed over her body and returned to her eyes, his Colombian inflection falling flat. “You’re much more enticing than the fruit.”

Okay, that drained her blood straight to her feet. It was a joke, right? Nico might’ve kept tabs on her, but he’d never given her so much as a glimmer of interest.

Tags: Pam Godwin Deliver Erotic
Source: readsnovelonline.net