Fonseca's Fury

‘Come on. It won’t bite.’

So she did, and Luca tipped the leaf so that a cascade of water fell into her mouth, cold and more refreshing than anything she’d ever tasted in her life. She coughed slightly when it went down the wrong way, but couldn’t stop her mouth opening for more. The water trickled over her face, cooling the heat that had nothing to do with the humid temperature.

When there were only a few drops left, she straightened up again. Luca was watching her. They were close—close enough that all Serena would have to do would be to step forward and they’d be touching.

And then, as if reading her mind and rejecting her line of thought, Luca stepped back, letting her arm go. ‘We need to change into dry clothes.’

He walked away and Serena felt ridiculously exposed and shaky. What was wrong with her?

Luca was taking clothes out of his pack. He straightened up and his hands went to his shirt, undoing the buttons with long fingers. A sliver of dark muscled chest was revealed, the shadow of chest hair. And Serena was welded to the spot. She couldn’t breathe.

Finally sense returned. Her face hot with embarrassment, she hurried to her own bag and concentrated on digging out her own change of clothes. The last thing she needed was to let Luca Fonseca into the deepest recesses of her psyche. But, much to her irritation, she couldn’t forget the way he’d looked when he’d held her hands out for inspection, or the look in his eyes just now, when she fancied she’d seen something carnal in their depths, only for him to mock her for her fanciful imagination.

* * *

Luca was feeling more and more disorientated as he pulled on fresh clothes with rough hands. Deus. He’d almost backed Serena into the tree just now and covered her open mouth with his, jealous of the rainwater trickling between those plump lips.

And what about those scars on her hands? The silvery marks criss-crossing the delicate pale skin? He hadn’t been prepared for the surge of panic when he’d seen them—afraid she’d been marked by something on the trail—or the feeling of rage when she’d told him so flatly who had done it.

He’d met her father once or twice at social events and had never liked the man. He had cold, dead dark eyes, and the superior air of someone used to having everything he wanted.

He didn’t like to admit it, but the knowledge that he’d been violent didn’t surprise Luca. He could picture the man being vindictive. Malevolent. But to his own daughters? The blonde, blue-eyed heiresses everyone had envied?

Luca knew Serena was changing behind him. He could hear the soft sounds of clothes being taken off and dropped. And then there was silence for a long moment. Telling himself it was concern, but knowing that it stemmed from a much deeper desire, Luca turned around.

Her back was to him and her legs were revealed in all their long shapely glory as she stripped off her trousers. High-cut pants showed off a toned length of thigh. Firm but curvy buttocks. When she stripped down to her bra he wanted to go over and undo it, slip his hands around her front to cup the generous swells and feel her arch into him.

He was rewarded with a burgeoning erection within seconds—no better than a pre-teen ogling a woman dressing in a changing room.

The snap of her belt around her hips broke Luca out of his trance and, angry with himself, he turned away and pulled on his own trouse

rs. The light was falling rapidly now, and Luca had been so fixated on Serena that he was risking not having the camp set up in time.

But when he turned around again, about to issue a curt command, the words died on his lips. To his surprise Serena was already unrolling the tent and staking it out, her long ponytail swinging over her shoulder.

He cursed her silently, because he was losing his footing with this woman—fast.

* * *

Serena was sitting on a log on the opposite side of the fire to Luca a short time later, after they’d eaten their meagre meal. The tent stood close by, and she couldn’t stop a surge of ridiculous pride that she’d put it up herself. He’d expected her to flee back to civilisation at the slightest hint of work or danger, but here she was, day two and surviving—if not thriving. The feeling was heady, and it made her relish her newfound independence even more.

However, none of that could block out the mortification when she thought of earlier and how close she’d come to betraying her desire for him...

She caught Luca’s eye across the flickering light of the fire and he asked, ‘What’s the tattoo on your back?’

She went still. He must have seen the small tattoo that sat just above her left shoulderblade earlier, when she’d been changing. The thought of him looking at her made her feel hot.

The tattoo was so personal to her, she didn’t want to tell him. Reluctantly, she finally said, ‘It’s a swallow. The bird.’

‘Any significance?’

Serena almost laughed. As if she’d divulge that to him! He’d definitely fall off his log laughing.

She shrugged. ‘It’s my favourite bird. I got it done a few years ago.’ The day she’d walked out of the rehab clinic, to be precise.

She avoided Luca’s gaze. Swallows represented resurrection and rebirth... Luca would hardly look that deeply into its significance, but still... She had the uncanny sense that he might and she didn’t like it.

She really wanted to avoid any more probing into her life or her head. She stood up abruptly, making Luca look up, his dark gaze narrowing on her. ‘I’m going to turn in now.’ She sounded too husky. Even now her body trembled with awareness, just from looking at his large rangy form relaxed.