Illegitimate Tycoon (17 page)

 
          
RAFAEL
set his teeth. It was damned near impossible to resist her when her eyes were
blazing with desire. And why should he when this was their last night together?

 
          
With
an erotic growl, his mouth swooped down on hers. The kiss was a consuming fire,
but Leila welcomed the heat, for she could taste his passion, feel his need
pulse in his muscles and vibrate into her on a dulcet sigh.

 
          
She
raked her fingernails down his back and held on tight as he backed her up
against the wall. He let out a primal hiss, his pelvis grinding against hers.
His tongue plundered, retreated and staked claim to her mouth again.

 
          
“I
don’t want this week to end,” she said, her fingers making short work of freeing
his gorgeous length from his trousers, wanting him in her, desperate to hold on
to him any way she could, for something had shifted in their relationship yet
again, something that threatened to pull him from her.

 
          
“It
doesn’t have to,” he said, his voice gruff with hope.

 
          
Had
he finally succeeded in reaching her?

 
          
The
thought of returning to the empty penthouse or the
casa
sickened him. He was so damned tired of living alone. He
selfishly yearned for his wife in his arms and his life.

 
          
She
claimed she felt the same, yet for all her protestations she was still placing
her career first.

 
          
The
thought went up in flames as she scraped her hands over his chest, and he
marveled that he didn’t see sparks crackling in the dim light of the room. He
was on fire for her, consumed with need.

 
          
He
shoved her gown to her waist with one hand and snapped the thin strap of her
thong with the other, the near-violent action more titillating than she could
have imagined.

 
          
She
kicked what remained of her panties free in a desperate rush to get rid of the
encumbrance.

 
          
He
growled his approval and lifted her by her waist, holding her against the wall
for a heartbeat before he brought her down on his thick hot length. Sparks of
passion rocketed through her.

 
          
She
cried out and wrapped her legs around his lean hips, clutching him tightly to
her, her face buried against his neck as that first wave of sensations tore
through her. Her head spun from the sheer power of him inside her, making them
one again.

 
          
Her
heart thudded strong and she wished this would go on forever.

 
          
He
hissed out a breath and shuttered, going still as if he, too, had nearly passed
out from this explosive joining, as if savoring every quiver of flesh against
flesh, every slick sweet glide within. As if he were afraid to move for fear it
would shatter to pieces.

 
          
She
clung to him, focused on his pulse pounding through her in an erotic beat that
made her heart sing. Her muscles stretched to accommodate his length before
instinctively tightening around him to milk him—draw out all he could give her.
Hold him tight, as if by doing so she’d never lose this moment. Never lose him.

 
          
“Meu amor,”
he said, pulling nearly out
of her before slamming back in where he belonged. His mouth came down on hers,
the kiss as greedy as the need gnawing away inside her.

 
          
She
threaded her fingers through his thick hair and ground her mouth against his
even as her pelvis moved against him, matching his thrusts, his passion. She
kissed him deeply, determined to leave no doubt in his mind that he was her
only lover. That he was her love.

 
          
They
broke apart on a gasp, desperate to draw air into lungs that burned. Her skin
was on fire now, the blaze within her so hot and fierce that she was certain
this time the heat would consume them.

 
          
He
tossed his head back, his features cast in bold relief, an erotic deity come to
life, the emotions stark and clear. Passion. Pain. Possession.

 
          
He
controlled the moment. Controlled her with an iron will that left her panting
for more, that left her at his mercy.

 
          
She
couldn’t have continued her sensual assault a moment longer. Raw passion
crashed through her with the force of a tidal wave, sweeping her away on a wave
of bliss.

 
          
Every
inch of her was ultrasensitized, from the aching tips of her breasts that
drilled into his chest to her heart that pounded in time to his—hard, fast.
Wanting more. Wanting all he could give her. Wanting to hold this moment
forever.

 
          
She
lifted her head and stared into eyes that smoldered with black flames of
passion, so intense she trembled as the carnal fire licked through her veins.
She burned deep inside, forever branded by his passion, her skin so sensitized
that the slight abrasion of his fingers stroking her quivering body was sweet
torture.

 
          
They
had made love every way imaginable, but never with this explosive passion.
Never this intense and consuming. Never so powerful that she actually thought
if she died now, she would die blissfully happy.

 
          
Her
trembling hands stroked down his powerful back that quivered at her touch. She
pinched her eyes shut, imbedding this joining on her memory, for surely she
wanted this moment to last forever, to hold him in her arms, in her body, until
the end of time.

 
          
For
when they were locked in love, the world faded into oblivion. She focused on
him moving on her, in her. They were one, their breaths mingling, their hearts
pounding in tandem to a sensual melody only they could hear.

 
          
The
pressure inside her was cataclysmic, propelling her into the stratosphere. She
gasped and reached toward that crystalline brilliance of completion just out of
her reach. A place where she could only feel and not think. A nirvana where she
simply lay sated in exquisite splendor.

 
          
With
Rafael.

 
          
If
he wasn’t with her, she couldn’t go.

 
          
She
held him tighter, determined to take him with her into her glorious climax. But
that was ripped from her as her body splintered with sensation, trembling,
tossing her up among the stars.

 
          
She
screamed his name and reached for him, their entwined fingers her lifeline that
surged with a maelstrom of passion. But that, too, grew dim, a ghost image that
was beautiful to see, a memory that was seared on her soul.

 
          
She
was dimly aware of his body straining against her own, her body pressed against
the cool wall. Of his final thrust as he reached his climax with a hoarse shout
that made her smile, for she’d given him all she had to offer.

 
          
It
was much later that her brain began to function, when the ruckus from the beach
and the clubs became an intrusion on this special moment. She rested lax in the
cradle of his embrace, the wall cold and unyielding against her spine, his body
hot and hard against her own.

 
          
Her
arms hung at her sides, her hands free. Her only remaining connection to him
now was that he was still buried deeply inside her. But that, too, ended as he
slowly eased out of her.

 
          
“That
was incredible,” she said, pressing a kiss against his damp chest and smiling
as his skin puckered against her lips.

 
          
“You
are incredible,” he said, his hands curling over her bare bottom and simply
holding her close.

 
          
She
glided her palms up his arms to his damp shoulders, lifting her head from where
she’d pillowed it on his chest to look at his face. “If I am, it is only
because of you, my love.”

 
          
“Everything
ends eventually,” he said, the note of finality in his tone threatening to dim
her joy. “Then new memories can be made.”

 
          
She
took a relieved breath and pressed her mouth to his, grazing his lips once,
twice. “Then let’s make new memories tonight.”

 
          
His
big body tensed a fraction, and for a heartbeat she feared he’d refuse. What
would she do then?

 
          
“You
know what I want, Leila,” he said.

 
          
She
took a breath. Then another. But in the end she couldn’t lie.

 
          
“I
know, but I fear I might never be able to give you that, Rafael.”

 
          
Rafael
swore under his breath. There was no joy in knowing nothing had changed. In
knowing that Leila did not trust him enough to help her overcome her fears. He
was torturing himself by making love with her, knowing she’d go her way in the
morning, in control of her life, but alone.

 
          
His
mouth closed over hers, not with brutal passion or driving lust but a gentle
kiss that made his soul sing even as his heart clenched over at his failure to
make his marriage work. At his failure to make his beautiful wife see the
future they could have together, if only she would trust him.

 
          
He
selfishly wanted more memories of her to hold long afterward even though that
would be a torment to his soul as well. He wanted this night. Wanted all she
could give him, as little as that was.

 
          
Regrets
and guilt could torment him tomorrow. Tonight was theirs.

 
          
He
tore his mouth from hers and she mewled a protest, pressing her mouth to his
throat instead, nipping, laving, moving down his chest to suckle his skin.

 
          
Desire
bolted through him like lightning. His sex jolted and snapped taut.

 
          
“You
are insatiable,” he said thickly, giving her bare bottom a squeeze that brought
her body pressing tightly against him again.

 
          
Such
exquisite torment!

 
          
“But
you like me that way,” she said, her voice a throaty purr again.

 
          
It
was true. He liked that she wasn’t shy in bed with him. That she knew what
pleased him, what made their pleasure all the more memorable.

 
          
If
only he could calm her fears about motherhood now. How ironic that in the early
days of their marriage, he’d been afraid that he’d not be a fit father, just
like his own. His greatest fear was that his father’s evil would eventually
come out in him, that he’d somehow turn into the monster who could turn his
back on his own flesh and blood. Who could inflict pain with a cruel smile.
That his life was too busy to be burdened with children yet.

 
          
It
had been his suggestion to put off having a family in the early days, sure that
he lacked the patience to deal with the bonds of parenthood when his marriage
was so new. When he was still at the beginnings of launching his career.

 
          
Yet
just two years into marriage and the lonely ache in him had expanded. He’d
realized that he needed Leila to make him whole. To ground him. To complete
him. His desire to be with her and start a family with her had overwhelmed him.

 
          
He
and his siblings had little contact. His mother was deeply involved helping the
indigenous people, a cause he supported.

 
          
But
he had vowed to keep his yearnings to himself until their third anniversary.
His and Leila’s careers were at crucial stages and he understood and respected
that. But each day he had poured his heart into his work, and each night he had
come home to a cold empty house.