when he needed it. But his life was not about women, or settling down. He had too much to do to undo all the harm his father and grandfather had caused. He had set himself a mammoth task when his father had died ten years ago: to reverse the negative impact of the name Fonseca in Brazil, which up till then had been synonymous with corruption, greed and destruction.
The allegations of his drug-taking had come at the worst possible time for Luca—just when people had been beginning to sit up and trust that perhaps he was different and genuine about making a change. It was only now that he was back in that place.
And the person who could reverse all his good work was only feet away from him. He had to remember that. Remember who she was and what she had the power to do to him. Even if she was innocent, any association with her would incite all that speculation again.
Only when Luca felt sure that Serena must be asleep did he turn in himself, doing his best to ignore the curled-up shape inside the sleeping bag that was far too close to his for comfort. He’d really not expected to have to share this tent with anyone, and certainly not with Serena DePiero for a second night in a row.
But as he lay down beside her he had to acknowledge uncomfortably that there was no evidence of the spoilt ex-wild-child. There wasn’t one other woman he could think of, apart from those whose life’s work it was to study the Amazon, who would have fared better than her over the past couple of days. And even some of those would have run screaming long before now, back to the safety of a research lab, or similar.
He thought of her putting up the tent, her tongue caught between her teeth as she exerted herself, sweat dripping down her neck and disappearing into the tantalising vee of her shirt. Gritting his jaw tightly, Luca sighed and closed his eyes. He’d accused her of not lasting in the jungle, but it was he who craved the order of civilisation again—anything to dilute this fire in his blood and put an end to the questions Serena kept throwing up.
* * *
A couple of hours later Luca woke, instantly alert and tensed, waiting to hear a sound outside. But it came from inside the tent. Serena. Moaning in her sleep in Italian.
‘Papa...no, per favore, non che... Siena, aiutami.’
Luca translated the last word: help me. There was something gutturally raw about her words, and they were full of pain and emotion. Her voice cracked then, and Luca’s chest squeezed when he heard her crying.
Acting on instinct, Luca reached over and touched her shoulder.
Almost instantly she woke up and turned her head. ‘Ché cosa?’
Something about the fact that she was still speaking Italian made his chest tighten more. ‘You were dreaming.’ He felt as if he’d invaded her privacy.
Serena went as tense as a board. He could see the bright glitter of those blue eyes in the gloom.
‘Sorry for waking you.’
Her voice was thick, her accent stronger. He felt her pull abruptly away from his hand as she curled up again. Her hair was a bright sliver of white-gold and his body grew hot as he thought of it trailing over his naked chest as she sat astride him and took him deep into her body.
Anger at the wanton direction of his thoughts, at how easily she got under his skin and how she’d pulled away just now, almost as if he’d done something wrong, made him say curtly, ‘Serena?’
She said nothing, and that wound him up more. A moment ago he’d been feeling sorry for her, disturbed by the gut-wrenching sound of those sobs. But now memories of his mother and how she’d use her emotions to manipulate the people around her made Luca curse himself for being so weak.
It made his voice harsh. ‘What the hell was that about?’
Her voice sounded muffled. ‘I said I was sorry for waking you. It was nothing.’
‘It didn’t sound like nothing to me.’
Serena turned then, those eyes flashing, her hair bright against the dark backdrop of the tent. She said tautly, ‘It was a dream, okay? Just a bad dream and I’ve already forgotten it. Can we go to sleep now, please?’
Luca reacted viscerally to the fact that Serena was all but spitting at him, clearly in no need of comfort whatsoever. She pressed his buttons like no one else, and all he could think about right then was how much he wanted her to submit to him—anything to drown out all the contradictions she was putting in his head.
He reached out and found her arms, pulled her into him, hearing her shocked little gasp.
‘Luca, what are you doing?’
But the defensive tartness was gone out of her voice.
He pulled her in closer, the darkness wrapping around them but failing to hide that bright blue gaze or the gold of her hair. The slant of her stunning cheekbones.
She wasn’t pulling away.
Luca’s body was on fire. From somewhere he found his voice and it sounded coarse, rough. ‘What am I doing?’
‘This...’
And then he pulled her right into him and his mouth found hers with unerring precision. Her breasts swelled against his chest—in outrage? He didn’t know, because he was falling over the very thin edge of his control.
When he felt her resistance give way after an infinitesimal moment, triumph surged through his body. He couldn’t think any more, because he was swept up in the decadent darkness of a kiss that intoxicated him and reminded him of only one other similar moment...with her...seven years before.
SERENA WAS STILL in shock at finding herself in Luca’s arms with his mouth on hers. When he’d woken her at first, she’d had an almost overwhelming instinctive need to burrow close to him, the tentacles of that horrible nightmare clinging like slimy vines to her hot skin.
And then she’d realised just who she was with—just who was precipitating such weak feelings of wanting to seek strength and comfort. Luca Fonseca, of all people? And that dream... She hadn’t had it for a long time—not since she’d been in rehab. And to be having it again, here, was galling. As if she was going backwards. Not forwards. And it was all his fault, for getting under her skin.
Fresh anger made her struggle futilely against Luca’s superior strength even after she’d let the hot tide of desire take her over, revealing how much she wanted him. She pulled back, ripping her mouth from his, mortified to find herself breathing harshly, her breasts moving rapidly against the steel wall of his chest, nipples tight and stinging.
Her body and her mind seemed to be inhabiting two different people. Her body was saying Please don’t stop and her head was screaming Stop now!
‘What is it, minha beleza?’
The gravelly tone of Luca’s voice rubbed along her nerve-endings, setting them alight. Traitors.
‘Do you really think this is a good idea?’
Dammit.
