Billionaire Fiancés Box Set

by Rachel Lyndhurst; Carmen Falcone; Ros Clarke; Annie Seaton; Christine Bell

  She shined the light on his face. “You like me when I’m naked and squirming.”

  It was supposed to sound like an accusation. Too late. He curved his lips into a suspiciously slow smile. Holding the flashlight, she was in darkness, and he was in the light. How’s that for irony?

  “I wasn’t going down that road, but, yes, I particularly like you when you are naked.” He gave a hearty chuckle. He stepped closer, and closer, and she backed up until she could feel the rough walls of the hut brushing against her back. “And squirming.”

  The flashlight slipped from her hand and thudded on the dirt, shrouding them in darkness. She heard the sound of the batteries rolling on the ground.

  Without any light, her senses heightened in such a way it was almost painful to inhale his scent, to feel the light brush of his fingers against her arms, to hear the humming from his hot breath.

  “I want you to be mine,” his husky voice demanded. Her body urged her to oblige.

  She should say no. Tell him to turn around and go to sleep.

  Was it really what she wanted? She swallowed, and the dry lump transformed into a hot tingle. It zipped within her all the way down to her damp sex. The sound of her ragged breath muffled the noise from outside.

  She choked on her words. “Yours?”

  Bruno pulled her to him. Her body betrayed her and adjusted to his automatically. This was his answer. He wanted her, sexually. Hell, she wanted him sexually, too. How could she want him that much when he was so wrong for her? He had in his hands the power to change the lives of hundreds, yet…

  He glided his fingers along the outline of her jaw and tilted up her chin, though they couldn’t see each other. Her heart slammed against her rib cage. Rationalization drifted away. Even in the dark, Bruno still was in control.

  “What’s on your mind, Addie?”

  I’m trying to prevent myself from falling in love with you. There was no short version, or downplaying. Because, let’s face it, her body betrayed her over and over. Her heart raced like a warhorse on a mission.

  Despite his seemingly selfish ways, his abandonment of his mother and family, she had seen other sides of him. He had helped his sister with her learning disabilities, when he himself didn’t have much of an education. And the dog she befriended at the beach—no matter how he had criticized her—he had searched for it the next day and brought it to Camila. He was passionate, kind, and attentive.

  She shuddered. She had not imagined she would ever describe him that way.

  He leaned down so that his forehead touched hers. His hot breath fanned over her, and he asked, “Are you thinking about him?”

  Him…? Him who? Ah…Michael. Of course. Reality pinched her. Did he want to prove something? “What does it matter?”

  “It just does.” He slid both hands down to her butt and pulled her hips into him. She gasped when his hard-on pressed against her belly. Damn him.

  What did he expect her to say? That her dead former boyfriend now seemed even more absent than before?

  That she wanted Bruno, and she’d need an emotional self-intervention when he was done with her? He let out an impatient sigh, and his lips hovered over hers. The air was thick around them. She swallowed to curse the dryness away.

  He slid his tongue out and licked her lips, with electrifying response. Their limbs and mouths searched for each other hungrily. The force, again. Making her act all sex starved and crazy. Making her pull off her tank top and help him do the same.

  Her naked chest molded to his, and she moaned. Her breasts puckered in response.

  He planted a kiss on the corner of her mouth and disengaged for a moment. She was about to protest, when she registered him fumbling for his wallet. A smile tipped her lips. Of course. He was getting protection. Although…what kind of protection could she really use against the power he had over her?

  She heard a zipping sound. He unfolded her sleeping bag and laid it somewhere near, and soon she was gloriously sandwiched between a thick layer of cotton-polyester and Bruno Duarte. She heard him ripping the foil packet open.

  The darkness continued its aphrodisiac spell over her. She had to trust her other intensified senses. The sound of his belt when it reached the ground. His breath ragged next to her hair. The amplified pop when he stopped sucking her lower lip.

  She arched her lower body against his cock, her panties already soaked. When he cupped her between her legs, she sucked in a breath, wanting to bask in every second of his touch. “You…are…” she gasped. He removed her shorts, and her panties quickly followed.

  Deliciously hot.

  Sexy as no one should be.

  Mine… Right now, you’re mine.

  He kissed her neck and nibbled on her jaw. “Who am I?”

  He lay on top of her. She squirmed, brushing her naked body against his.

  “You are…” She bit her lip when he inserted a finger inside her, and her moist walls clenched around it. She was afraid to move, or she would come instantly.

  “Tell me.” He withdrew his finger in such a hurry, she couldn’t suppress a frustrated moan. What kind of game was he playing? She was bare and willing. “Say my name.”

  “Bruno.” A demand.

  He thrust inside her, deep and hard. This time, she didn’t need time to accommodate him. She immediately began to arch her hips, digging her fingernails into his shoulders. More, she wanted more…no stopping.

  He intensified the rhythm, entering all the way, searching for her lips with his own, their fingers entwined. She spread her legs wider and clenched her inner muscles just in time for his last thrust before they both moaned in common agreement. Well, at least there was one thing they agreed on.

  He moved off her, while her heart still raced like a marathon runner.

  “Do you think we’ll ever make love on a proper bed?”

  “I hope not.” He propped her on her side so he could spoon her.

  Of course, he joked. Although the likely probability of them not having sex again, on a bed or not, hit her. They were getting closer to their goals. Well, he was to his. He had his father’s approval, and he could get even more money for the land.

  He threaded his fingers in her hair. “I was jealous of Michael.”

  “Jealous?” she repeated, trying to make sense of the word. Thinking, though, was a task, when he started a lustful massage on her scalp. Soaking in his invigorating strokes, she sighed. Heavily.

  “It seems he still affects you.”

  Did he? She let her head fall on the inside of his arm and enjoyed the intimacy, the togetherness. “Michael will always be special to me. He showed me a whole new world and offered me stability when I needed it. He didn’t deserve to die that way.”

  Although she was in the dark, as habit she closed her eyes at the memory of that horrible late afternoon. The sun had just set, and Juracyr was coming back from the town where she usually sold her crafts to a store. That’s when it’d happened. “They wanted to assault Juracyr, and he didn’t let them.”

  “What happened?”

  “I was hiking in the woods and heard Juracyr screaming for help. He must have heard her, too, except he came from a different direction. I ran—and found them too late. The man who was about to rape Juracyr had just stabbed Michael.” Bruno held her closer against him and snaked his arm around her neck like a shield.

  “The killer ran. I knelt down and placed Michael’s head on my lap. All I could hear was the sound of shoes smashing dry leaves. I looked around and grabbed a rock to throw in the man’s direction. I knew he was too far, but I had to do something.” She cleared her throat. “But when I grabbed a rock, it turned out to be a frog.” She had let it go, filled with frustration and hopelessness. “I was too late anyway. The guy rushed to his car and drove away.”

  “I’m sorry.” He planted a warm kiss on her bare shoulder. She wished she could see his eyes. She’d seen his lusty gaze, his mocking grin, his frustrated expression. The several different ways he
’d shown self-confidence and knowledge. But now…she really wanted to see how those two pools of melted coffee would look with a touch of sweetness.

  He remained quiet for a long time, his mouth’s only purpose to gently kiss her hair. His fingers stroked her shoulders in a languid, relaxing massage. Although his touch seared her inside, it wasn’t sexually motivated.

  She shifted on the sleeping bag until she faced him, her body within a whisper of touching his. The static made her feel the pull of his chest and leg hair, drawing her close. He sucked in his breath, and she assumed he struggled for the control she didn’t want him to find. Hers was long gone.

  “You know, you shouldn’t be jealous. There’s no need.”

  He planted small kisses on her shoulder. She arched against him, surprised by the speed of her desire skyrocketing inside her again. He trailed kisses from her shoulders to her neck, cupping her breasts with his hands.

  She bit back a smile. How to fight the yearning? He took full advantage of her vulnerability and raised his own head. His hot breath fanned over her skin until he found her sensitive earlobe. “Addie, Addie… When will I stop wanting you?”

  She bit her lip. And wondered the same thing.

  …

  Bruno got up and left the hut, trying to suppress a yawn. The blinding sun hit the ground as everyone went about their day. A few kids played soccer with a half-deflated, old soccer ball in an impromptu soccer field not too far from the huts. A group of women walked by, carrying wicker baskets filled with fruits and vegetables. He assumed there had to be a plantation somewhere close. They waved at him and smiled.

  He massaged his lower back and glanced behind him. No sign of Addie. His back hurt from sleeping on the unforgiving ground, but he couldn’t complain. To have her in his arms, to fall asleep with her limbs shamelessly entangled with his, her body within reach…

  He’d do it all over again. And again. Even if sleeping with her had him walking with a cane afterward. Speaking of the devil… Addie strolled toward him carrying a bowl of fresh fruit with a little boy walking by her side.

  “Ready for breakfast?” She pointed at the selection of mangoes, bananas, and pears.

  “We just picked those,” the little boy said with enthusiasm.

  Bruno looked at the skinny but handsome little boy who sported a mischievous smile like boys his age should.

  “This is Endi.”

  Endi. The boy from the picture she’d shown him. “Nice to meet you.” He offered his hand.

  The boy smiled and nodded, but instead of taking his hand, he showed an object he’d been holding behind him. “I have a sword.” The Indian spear didn’t differ from the colorfully patterned ones adult Kwanis sported. Maybe a bit smaller, but the sharp arrowhead was there, along with the wood-like spear made from fish.

  “That’s a sharp tip.” A weapon, not a toy. He knew nothing of kids’ toys, but he gathered it was dangerous for him, or for anyone.

  He bent down and rested his arm over his knee, a strange need to look into the child’s dark eyes and find answers to questions he no longer asked himself. Until now. How would he have turned out, if his childhood had been different? If his father’s reaction had been different? Would he have stayed in his country, married someone who worked as a maid for the rich folk? Would he have sunk lower into the world of promiscuity? Would he have survived it all?

  “It’s to keep evil men away. My father taught me how to use it,” Endi said with pride and gave the arrowhead a swing.

  Sorrow lodged in his throat. How could a child carry a smile on his lips and a weapon in his hand? Addie gave Endi a gentle pat on the back. Bruno’s eyes rose to Addie’s, and the pain there made his heart contract. Truth was, Endi was lucky to have a place to sleep. Especially when compared to the many homeless children in Brazil.

  But…since when did standards get so low?

  Bruno stood and ran his fingers through his hair. He’d thought himself immune to sad stories. Professionally, he’d done all he could, including making generous donations to organizations and creating a software program to help third-world countries find child molesters. However, he had kept his distance so as not to get personally involved or let upsetting stories remind him of his own.

  “You are no evil man.” Endi pulled him from his thoughts. “I asked my mother.”

  A chill zipped down his spine. Pity for the little boy shifted into cold shame. Endi didn’t know what he was there to do—what he wanted, what he had to do. But he knew… And so did Addie.

  Her hand fidgeted over her neckline. He sought an answer in her green eyes. They didn’t condemn him, but they also didn’t offer any sympathy. Well, he wasn’t that much of a son of a bitch to expect support. If he continued, his plans would hurt that child more than any sharp arrowhead.

  “Thank you,” Bruno said.

  A few other kids joined them, one of them carrying the rundown soccer ball. They talked among one another for a few seconds.

  Then, Endi nodded and looked at him, his eyes two black beads of excitement. “Do you want to play with us?”

  “Yes,” he answered without hesitation. The boys giggled and led him to the soccer field. He didn’t resist the urge to look over his shoulder.

  Addie stood straight, with her hands in her pockets. She offered a slight nod and lifted her hand over her face to see him in the bright sun.

  One of the boys pulled his hand and said something about positioning on the field. He tore his gaze from hers at last and skimmed the boys. They wore dust-covered denim shorts, and a couple of necklaces hung on their bare, skinny chests. Yet their eyes twinkled as they anticipated playing soccer with the newcomer.

  Endi carefully placed his spear off to the side and handed Bruno the ball. Bruno’s eyes fixed on the sharp object on the ground.

  A weapon, not a toy. Could he ever forgive himself for not helping them out?

  …

  “Your husband is good with kids, Addie,” Juracyr said, standing next to her.

  “He’s all right.” Addie jammed her fingers in the pockets of her shorts. For the past hour, the two of them, along with a few other women, watched the game with enthusiasm.

  The lack of enough players for both teams didn’t dampen the kids’ playfulness. Bruno broke all the rules and helped both teams, his legs fast and agile under his knee-length, camel cargo shorts. He dribbled, he ran, he curled a free kick like nobody’s business. Ultimately, he let the boys win.

  Juracyr’s stare weighed on her, scrutinizing her every reaction to the game. “Michael would be happy.”

  Addie turned to her, an angry warmth zipping through her blood. “How can you say that?”

  Juracyr offered her a genuine smile and a slight shrug. “He wanted you to be happy.”

  She looked at shirtless and sweat-slicked Bruno, who high-fived Endi as they scored another goal. Resolute to quit ogling him, she looked down at her feet, her flip-flops mindlessly scratching the dirt.

  “Do you want to be happy?” Juracyr asked.

  Addie took a deep breath, feeling confined even though they were out in the open, surrounded by green grass, tall trees, and morning fresh air.

  “Of course,” she muttered under her breath, unsure if the woman next to her heard her. Then, rattled by a resentment that ballooned inside her, she strode to the middle of the field, her hand up in the air to stop the game.

  Bruno frowned at her.

  “I think you need to freshen up, Bruno.” She handed him her water bottle. “There’s a river not too far from here. You need to rest a bit.” Before we discuss these boys’ future. Said boys muttered protests for losing their best player, but she kneeled down, saying, “You can continue playing, and Bruno—”

  “We’ll play again some other time,” he ruffled Endi’s hair.

  She stood and squared her shoulders. If only it were true…

  “It’s not the Ritz or anything, but you can clean yourself,” Addie explained when their feet reached the
edge of the river. The sound of the water streaming down was a good buffer for the silence that had descended upon them since they left the soccer field.

  “It’s nice.”

  She avoided looking at his chest and simply sat on the bank and dipped her feet in the water. Although she wore a bikini under her jean shorts and black tank top, she would wait to get clean. This time, he had to do the talking. His turn to come clean about his plan. About himself.

  He removed his tennis shoes and socks, then jumped in the water with a big splash. He emerged, then jumped in again, and finally surfaced in front of her. When he did, he looked intently at her.

  She swallowed and focused on how his one day’s growth of beard stubble shadowed his square jaw, and how the drops of water traveled slowly from the curly tips of his hair down his bare shoulders and beyond.

  “I’m not going to sell Toca do Tigre,” he finally said.

  What? She released her breath, adrenaline flowing through her. Not going to sell it? Quicker than her thoughts and with only a couple of strokes, he walked out of the river, and sat next to her. Was he serious? Although joy and surprise propelled her to stand up, jump, and celebrate, the sadness in his voice dampened her reaction.

  Of course. He’d be breaking his father’s heart, and that couldn’t be easy. Yet the hope she found in his expression warmed her like an old blanket. She cracked her knuckles, unwilling to let anxiety take over the joy.

  “I can’t do that to them. I’ll secure a part of the land for them, and with the rest, well, I’ll see.”

  She cleared her throat. “Secure?”

  His face looked serious and focused in a way she’d never seen before. “Yes. I’ll donate a part of Toca do Tigre to the tribe. I’ll see what to do with the rest, but I’ll make sure they’ll have enough space so that whatever other action I take won’t hurt them in the future.” Sitting next to her and looking straight ahead, he had no hint of mockery. The way his shoulders tensed and made his chest muscles ripple told her this was no easy decision. After all, hadn’t he told her he was adamant about getting rid of the land, many times? And she knew this would only bring red-tape headaches for him. If he really meant what he said, he would have a hard time figuring out what company or person would want to buy the remaining hundreds of acres. Nobody would want to build a hotel or luxury villas next to an Indian tribe.