Illegitimate Tycoon (15 page)

 
          
“I
am tired of living like we do, Leila,” he’d said at last. “We didn’t even spend
Christmas together this year.”

 
          
“I
was on a shoot,” she’d said. “You could have joined me.”

 
          
And
he might have, but he hadn’t known anything about it until the last minute. By
then he’d already promised his mother he’d help her deliver much-needed
supplies to the São Paulo poor marooned in the mountains. He’d not disappoint
her or the children, for the memory of being on the receiving end of charity
was never far from his mind.

 
          
“Your
schedule is always so full, as is mine. There is hardly time for us anymore,”
he’d said, annoyed that his own career kept him from his beloved wife.

 
          
He’d
reached across and took her hand, entwining his fingers with hers, savoring the
jolt of awareness that always ripped through him with they touched.

 
          
“We’ll
have a week together in France, and though the days will be hectic, the nights
will be ours.”

 
          
“Yes,”
she said, speaking to his throat instead of meeting his eyes. “We can talk about
it then.”

 
          
He’d
wanted to argue the point, to get her to commit. But the fact remained he’d
gone eight long months without seeing his wife. Without holding her. Kissing
her. Making love to her until they both fell into an exhausted sleep.

 
          
But
the elation that had surged through him after adoring her with his hands, mouth
and body had been shattered when he’d asked her to accompany him to his brother’s
wedding the following week. She’d refused, claiming she couldn’t postpone an
upcoming shoot. Perhaps that was true, but she’d made no attempt to even try.

 
          
She
had chosen her career over him and his family.

 
          
Rafael
blinked as the score blared in the theater and the final credits began rolling
on the film. He couldn’t believe it was over. Just like he didn’t want to
believe this week with Leila was nearly at an end.

 
          
“Which
party do you wish to attend first?” he asked as they left the cinema, their
movement slowed by the crush of celebrities and the inevitable waiting as
pictures were taken on the red carpet.

 
          
“Actually,
I’d prefer to return to the suite. It’s been a long day.”

 
          
“Then
that is what we will do.”

 
          
“You
don’t have to leave the parties just because I am,” she said.

 
          
He
took her hand, struck with a sense of bittersweet failure. Yet another need
pulsed hot and heavy in him too.

 
          
“I’ve
grown bored with the parties,
querida
.
I’d rather spend this night with you.”

 
          
She
pressed a hand to his chest and her wide eyes met his. He read uncertainty,
fatigue and something he couldn’t place in those most celebrated hazel orbs.

 
          
“You’re
sure you won’t regret leaving the gaiety?”

 
          
“Positive.”

 
          
There
would always be parties. But his week with Leila would be over soon. Too soon.

 
          
He
fully intended to make the most of their remaining time together. Wanted this
night with her without further arguing. A night filled with nothing but
lovemaking so he could brand each second on his memory.

 
          
“I
want you, Leila.”

 
          
“Then
let’s get out of here.”

 
          
RAFAEL’S
blood was on fire as he skirted the crowd as quickly as possible, his fingers
entwined with Leila’s. They reached their suite in less than ten minutes,
though it felt as if hours had crawled by.

 
          
He
swept them into the room and locked the door, heart thundering in his chest.
Her fragrance was totally erotic, mingling with her own musk to drive him wild
with desire.

 
          
His
mouth came down on hers. Hard. Demanding. Savage in intensity, in raw primal
need.

 
          
She
slid her arms around his neck and strained against him, her kiss ripe with
promise and passion. She tasted of honey and lemon.

 
          
A
deep growl of satisfaction ripped from him. His mouth left hers to trail kisses
down her slender neck, laving, nipping, reveling in the sultry mewls she made,
the desperate way she clutched at him.

 
          
He
stepped back just enough so he could cup her breasts, lifting them until they
nearly spilled over the top of her low strapless dress. They seemed fuller,
tighter, and he was suddenly thankful for those five kilograms she’d grudgingly
gained.

 
          
His
head bent to taste one silken globe, nuzzling her dress down to bare her to the
waist. He swirled his tongue around one taut nipple before he sucked hard on
it.

 
          
“Yes,”
she moaned, her fingernails raking his back, her spine bowed to press her
breasts closer to his mouth.

 
          
Heart
hammering in his chest, he suckled her hard, nipping at her, then laving. It
seemed an eternity had passed since they’d made love in March.

 
          
A
lifetime of wanting her. Dreaming of her. Now she was in his arms. Now he’d
take his time with her, he thought, drawing deeply on one breast and then the
other until they gleamed with moisture, until the nipples were hard and rosy.

 
          
Until
she quivered in his arms and his arousal had grown painful.

 
          
“I
can’t take it.” She grasped both ends of his tie and pulled him into the
bedroom, back to the enormous bed.

 
          
A
tremor rocketed through him, far stronger than he’d ever felt before. He was
nearly blind with lust now as he pushed her red dress to the floor and stared
at her, clad only in a sheer crimson thong. Perfection. Her breasts were high
and firm, her waist slender, her hips rounded just enough to be feminine.

 
          
“Please,”
she said, rubbing against him, her fingers desperately trying to loosen the
studs on his shirt.

 
          
“With
pleasure.”

 
          
He
picked her up and tossed her on the bed, then hooked his thumbs under her thong
and yanked it off, eliciting a startled squeak from her. “You are exquisite.”

 
          
“And
you are overdressed,” she said, her smile a beckoning taunt of tease and
passion.

 
          
“Vixen.”

 
          
He
tore off his clothes and fell on her, pressing them both into the sumptuous
mattress. Their lips met in a maelstrom of passion, tongues dueling in slick,
strong thrusts that left him hard and aching, teeth nipping with erotic intent
to make her gasp and purr in turn.

 
          
His
hands were all over her, memorizing the thrusts of her breasts, the tautness of
her nipples that he tasted and tormented until she cried out again.

 
          
She
glided her hands down his back, her fingers digging into his buttocks to hold
him close even as she arched against him, grinding her pelvis against his
length. Was she as desperate as he to be inside her?

 
          
He
slipped a hand between them to find her slick folds were plump with desire, wet
from wanting him. His body hardened more, jolting now with the need to drive
himself into her. To take her now and be done with it, then take her again and
again until they were both too tired to move.

 
          
Lust
pounded through his veins in hot surges as he pressed his mouth to her flat
belly, sliding lower to the caramel curls damp with desire. God, how he’d
missed this with her.

 
          
“Rafael,”
she whispered, her voice low and throaty, her hands clutching his head.

 
          
He
slid his palms up her inner thighs and pushed her legs apart, baring her to
him. In March, the sex between them had been fast. Fierce. The second time had
been just as urgent.

 
          
This
time he would savor her, give them both what they craved. He settled between
her creamy thighs, his palms cupping her tight buttocks as he bent to press one
hot kiss on her tender flesh.

 
          
She
cried out, her back bowing, her fingers holding his head at the apex of her
quivering thighs. He emitted a low growl and speared into her with his tongue,
tasting her, seeking the sweet spot that would drive her wild for him.

 
          
There
was no finesse now, just primal instinct as his mouth tasted and tormented her
hot swollen nub again and again.

 
          
His
heart hammered as his tongue mimicked what the hard length of his sex ached to
do. He felt the tension coiling in her, felt her tremble beneath him, felt
himself growing hard as a rock.

 
          
He
groaned as his body did the same, as if there were an invisible thread between
them that pulled them both taut. That bound them together forever.

 
          
Ruthlessly
shoving that fact to the back of his mind, he channeled his thoughts on
pleasuring Leila. He wanted her to remember every erotic stroke, every ravenous
kiss, every thrust of his tongue and fingers and sex, when this week ended.

 
          
He
wanted her to wake in the night and ache to be with him instead of on a shoot
at some barren location. He wanted her to think of him and the family they
should be starting instead of her career.

 
          
His
fingers slipped inside her silken core, thrusting harder, giving him that
opportunity to watch passion sweep over her in a rosy flush, see her open just
for him. Her inner muscles clamped down hard on his fingers even as tremors
shot through her.

 
          
Her
head thrashed on the pillow, eyes pinched shut, incoherent sounds bubbling from
her. Sweat beaded his forehead and slicked his back.

 
          
He
hurt from holding his own need back. But in this, he refused to be selfish, for
her pleasure made his all the more intense.

 
          
When
her climax finally came, it swept over her in one long shuttering cry that sang
through his blood. She pressed her head into the mattress and went stiff, his
name bursting from her in a reedy litany.

 
          
Nothing
could be more beautiful than watching her now. No woman was as giving of
herself. No woman could ever be this trusting in his arms.

 
          
If
she could only extend that to him outside the bedroom …

 
          
With
a savage growl, he surged into her with one long powerful thrust, her spasms
pulling him in deeper. So deep he felt the burn of her flesh against his own,
felt her passion sear him from the inside out.

 
          
They
reached their climax together in a glittering burst of color that rivaled the
display of fireworks on the beach.

 
          
His
name burst from her lips. This was perfect. Nirvana.

 
          
In
the aftermath of such an explosive joining, they sprawled on the bed, spent.
Sated.