Sweet Surrender

by Lori Wilde

  He said it as if there would be many more outings and Bianca felt at once both sad and confused. She did want many more outings with Thomaz. But it was a very dangerous thing to yearn for.

  She stood behind the door, opened it a crack and stuck her hand out to receive the champagne.

  “You’re wearing my lingerie.”

  “What!” How could he see her? She was behind the door and had opened it only enough for him to pass the champagne to her. Then she caught sight of herself in the mirror over the sink and realized that from his position in the hallway Thomaz could see her reflection.

  She snatched the glass inside the bathroom with her and slammed the door closed. “Go away.”

  “You’re wearing the underwear I designed.” He sounded raspy, aroused.

  “Of course I’m wearing your underwear,” she snapped, leaning her forehead against the door. Dumb, dumb, dumb to let him get a glimpse of her with it on. “I have to get a sense of the product before I can successfully market it.”

  “Are you sure you’re not using it against me?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I have noticed whenever we’re about to get to know each other better physically,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “that you always get a phone call. Is someone monitoring you?”

  “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

  “Of course it’s my business. It’s my lingerie. Tell me how it’s working for you.”

  “Well,” she said. “It’s kept me from getting too close to you.”

  “And here I thought it was because you simply didn’t like me.”

  “I like you,” she murmured to the door between them. “That’s the problem.”

  Bianca pressed her ear to the door, the champagne glass still balanced in her hand, and listened as he walked away. Blowing out her breath, she set down her glass and quickly finished changing. When she was done, she opened the door and eased out into the main compartment of the airplane. There, she found a lavish picnic lunch—billionaire style—laid out on a buffet. There was caviar and more champagne and puff pastries and small skewers of beef on a stick and fresh fruit and lush salads.

  “Please, let’s enjoy a nice meal together.” Thomaz waved at the spread. Bianca picked up a bone-china plate and loaded up. Thomaz followed behind her, looking refreshed in expensive designer jeans and a crisp, white button-down shirt opened at the collar and rolled up at the sleeves.

  They sat near the windows where they could gaze out at the verdant vegetation that was Brazil. As they ate, he told her about his country, its history, traditions, cultures and people.

  She listened, absorbing every word. Then he stopped talking and studied her.

  “Why are you so afraid to have fun, bonita?” he asked.

  She shrugged.

  “You were hurt.” He stared into her as if he could see the depths of her soul.

  Oh, God, was she that easy to read?

  “Who was he, bonita?”

  The urge to tell him everything welled up inside her, but she squashed it. Sharing secrets led to intimacy, and she was having enough trouble fighting her desires. She couldn’t look at him any longer and glanced away. “I don’t like to talk about it.”

  Thomaz reached out to cup his fingers under her chin and forced her to look up at him. “Whatever happened, I am not that man.”

  “I get that, but I’ve been burned.”

  “So you wear my underwear to keep me at arm’s length.”

  “I do.”

  “Who’s monitoring you?”

  She explained about Izzy and Emma and Madison.

  “If I were to give you the five hundred dollars to cover your bet would you stop wearing your so-called chastity belt?” he murmured.

  “It’s not about the money,” she said. “It’s about integrity and keeping my head.”

  “You have to let go of the past, bonita, take a chance on the future.”

  “What are you suggesting, Thomaz? Do you want a long-term relationship with me?” Did she want one with him? The prospect was very scary. She’d been focused on her career for so long, romance had always taken a back-seat. Maybe for too long….

  He took a deep breath. “I think I do.”

  That startled her, and Bianca’s heart jumped. Could she trust Thomaz? “There are so many obstacles between us. For one thing, I live in America and you live in Brazil.”

  He nodded. “It is something to consider. I should start looking at real estate in New York.”

  “No, no. You can’t move this quickly. I won’t be responsible for a mistake.”

  “You are not a mistake, Bianca.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I do not know. I just feel. It’s the Brazilian way.”

  “Well, I’m not Brazilian and this is all moving way too fast for me.”

  He reached out and splayed a hand over her heart. “You are Brazilian where it counts.”

  Bianca exhaled sharply.

  “But I see I’ve frightened you. You are accustomed to denying your feelings.”

  He was right on that score.

  “I need time,” she whispered.

  “We don’t have much time.”

  He was right about that, too.

  Thomaz lowered his head.

  Bianca knew he was going to kiss her. She didn’t resist. Why didn’t she resist? This was wrong on so many levels. There was a huge list of reasons she should not allow this to happen.

  He dragged her into the kiss, his fervent breath slipping with rousing swiftness into her eager mouth. The fragrance of his hair, musky and dark, stirred her senses. His tongue tasted of cool ocean breezes and the ripe tang of summer. His hands moved with a raw intensity that burned through the skimpy material of her dress, leaving her dizzy. His fingers caressed the underside of her chin. Her temperature soared, flooding her veins with a shivery heat.

  Abruptly she turned her back to him and fixated on the view outside.

  “Bonita,” he murmured, his tongue rimming her earlobe, his hands moving to her waist, driving her mad as he wove them up and down the sides of her body.

  His inquisitive index finger explored the groove behind her neck, stroking slowly downward. Immediately, her skin flushed and her heart rate quickened.

  Calm down. Take a deep breath. Clear your head.

  “Thomaz—” she whispered.

  His laugh interrupted her. “Stop thinking. You think too much. Dig down and touch the Brazilian inside you. Feel, bonita, feel.”

  Firm hands gripped her shoulders, turned her back around, and Bianca stared into his mirthful black eyes.

  “Ah, my poor Bianca, therein lies her problem,” he said, his fingertips gliding from the curve of her jaw to her throat and on to her cleavage. “You have thought so hard for so long that you have forgotten how to feel. Let me teach you.”

  His fingers hovered over the top button of her blouse, his palms grazing her breasts. A heated flush of sensual awareness washed over her and her skin ignited. For one heedless moment she had the reckless desire to mold her body against his, grind her hips against his pelvis.

  But then her cell phone rang, and she knew without looking at the caller ID that it was one of her friends calling to tell her she was on the verge of losing the bet. She pulled away from him to answer it. She could not lose.

  THOMAZ couldn’t sleep. Something had come over him at Iguaça Falls when he’d heard Bianca’s carefree laughter as their boat had bounced across the choppy water.

  He’d known that his desire for her went far deeper than the need for sex. But now he imagined her in his arms, not during sex, but afterward, snuggled up next to him, whispering words of love.

  She was the one he’d been waiting for, and he didn’t have to wait for Philippe’s report to know it. Now that he’d found her, he was alarmed to discover she was not so certain about him. How could he love her if she didn’t feel for him the things he felt for her? He’d promise
d to give her time and space but, honestly, he wasn’t sure if he was capable of that.

  It delighted and confounded him that she was wearing the sexy underwear he’d invented. She wanted him, but didn’t want to want him. How could he break through her defenses? How could he make her see that it was safe to let go of her fears and follow her heart? That she could trust him.

  He lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, imagining Bianca curled in his arms. The sweet, feminine scent of her filling his nostrils. He could feel the soft texture of her hair on his skin, could taste the lips he yearned to kiss.

  No matter what he’d told her, he could not stay away from her. If he did, she would only talk herself out of the thing she wanted most, but was too afraid to have.

  Determined to make her his, he flung back the covers, got out of bed, dressed quickly, then grabbed the keys to the Ferrari and went to her.

  BIANCA lay wide awake staring at the digital clock on the bedside table in her hotel room. All she could think about was Thomaz. She was getting in too deep. She knew it, and yet she couldn’t stop herself from falling. She had to get away from him or she was going to succumb to the feelings he stirred in her. First thing in the morning, she was going to call her boss and tell him she’d been unsuccessful. That she needed to come home early. The idea made her cringe. How could she run away when she was so close to the brass ring? She’d worked hard to get where she was and she was just going to walk away from it because she couldn’t control a few sexy feelings? That was stupid.

  A knock sounded on her door. Concerned, she threw back the covers and padded to the door to peek out the peephole. There stood Thomaz looking extremely agitated. Her stomach pitched to her feet at the same time her heart soared.

  “Bianca,” he said. “Please open the door.”

  She shouldn’t. It was dumb. It was as bad as what she’d done with Richard, but Bianca couldn’t help herself. She flung open the door.

  Thomaz rushed across the threshold and scooped her up into his arms. The next thing she knew, the door was slamming closed behind him and he was kissing her with a ferocity she’d never experienced. It was a kiss that shouted, you are mine and I am yours, we belong together and everything else be damned.

  And she melted.

  So much for her steel will. So much for her career. All she wanted was Thomaz. Helplessly, she linked her arms around his neck and pulled his head down to deepen the kiss. He groaned low in his throat, his hands busily sliding over her body.

  His mouth was a branding iron, hot and possessive, claiming her as his own. And how she loved being claimed!

  “Thomaz,” she murmured. Her heart fluttered. Her stomach felt jittery. Anticipation mingled with anxiety and hope and excitement.

  His hands became gentle, sweeping over her body, touching her through her clothes in all the right places. Instantly, she was wet. If someone had told her a week ago that she’d be feeling the kind of things she was feeling, Bianca would have told them they were nuts. Desire, passion, hunger and unstoppable need. She was not the kind of woman who fell easily into love.

  Um, you did it with Richard last year.

  No, that wasn’t true. She hadn’t been in love with Richard. She’d felt nothing like the power surging through her now as Thomaz lightly nibbled her earlobe. She and Richard had had a lot in common. She’d been comfortable with him—although that had turned out to be a mistake.

  But what if the same thing was happening with Thomaz? A dark voice whispered in the back of her mind, How do you know you can trust these feelings? How do you know you can trust him?

  She didn’t, and therein lay the risk. Bianca wasn’t much of a gambler. She led a quiet life, didn’t do anything out of the ordinary. The trip on the speedboat underneath the waterfalls had been the most daring—and exhilarating—thing she’d ever done.

  Until now.

  Until Thomaz.

  His lips drank from hers, a bee to a succulent flower. She opened her mouth and let him in, allowed his slow exploration.

  There was nothing hurried about the man. Everything he did was purposeful and leisurely. One hand softly stroked her spine, roving up and down the soft material of her lingerie. The other hand held her head still while he kissed her deeper and deeper.

  A heated rush of longing pushed through her. She felt her heart skip a beat and her entire body flush. Her breathing came in short, shallow pants. Soon, one of her friends would be calling, probably Emma, to talk her out of this.

  “Thomaz,” she whispered. “Could you excuse me for a moment?”

  “Sure,” he said, “but I won’t take another breath until you return.”

  She smiled at him. “I just need to reprogram the access code to my…your…”

  “Sex toy.” He trailed a hand over the bodice of the chastity belt he’d created.

  “Yes.”

  “You’ll lose the bet with your friends.”

  “I don’t care,” she said boldly.

  His eyes widened and his laugh was hearty, then he lowered his voice and whispered, “Do you want to play a game?”

  “What is the game?” she whispered.

  “Catch me if you can.”

  “What are the rules.”

  “Give me your new access code.” He waved in the direction of the GPS device programmed into her underwear. “You leave the hotel and when you’re thirty minutes away, turn on the tracking device and I’ll come after you,” he said in an urgent rush, as if he hadn’t even finished thinking the words before saying them aloud.

  Goose bumps fled over her body at the thought of his provocative game. “Is this how a woman gets to a one-hour orgasm?”

  “It is a step in the right direction, bonita.” His smiled widened.

  Like flotsam being swept over Iguaçu Falls, she was lost in the powerful tidal wave of raw energy she saw in Thomaz’s eyes.

  “I will find you,” he murmured. Gently he kissed her once more, then left her standing alone in the hotel suite.

  Now was her chance to reconsider. To put a damper on her errant impulses. She could just lock her door, go to bed and forget all about Thomaz and his wicked little game.

  But Bianca didn’t want to do that. She wanted to play. For the first time in her life, the studious workaholic wanted to throw it all away for the promise of physical pleasures. Sucking in her breath, she purposely flicked the switch on the little control box nestled in the lining of her underwear and changed the access code. Then she quickly got dressed and hurried out into the street.

  There was some kind of festival going on. Loud music, lots of dancing, merriment of all kinds. Couples held hands. Many people were in costume. Some wearing masks. The smell of Brazil was in the air, rich and intoxicating. She imagined her mother growing up on the streets of Rio and she felt a twinge of empathy. Now she understood why her parents had been so protective of her when she was growing up. They’d known of the dangers lurking. They’d wanted to keep their children safe. But that protective bubble had also kept Bianca from fully experiencing the world. She was a grown woman now. Fully capable of making her own decisions and accepting the consequences.

  Blood pumping with excitement, she slipped through the crowd. She took her cell phone from her purse and punched in Thomaz’s number. The second he answered, she whispered the sequence of her new access code and then said, “Catch me if you can.”

  She hung up without another word.

  5

  BELATEDLY, Thomaz realized he’d made a mistake enticing Bianca to play the game. She was unfamiliar with the streets of Rio and while his hometown was glorious in many ways, it did possess a scary underbelly. If you knew what places to stay away from, you would be fine. But an American in certain areas of Rio was a glowing target. Good thing she at least looked Brazilian. Anxiety twisted his throat. He got out his cell and tried to phone her back, to call it off, but the phone went to voice mail. She was playing to the letter of the game. He had to search for her without help.

&
nbsp; He hadn’t thought about how crowded the streets would be during the festival. How easy it would be to lose her in the throng. How quickly she could get into trouble. All he had was the access code to her GPS tracking. He would find her. He had to find her. He’d been a damned fool to instigate this game. He’d been thinking with his dick and not with his head or his heart. He turned on the tracking device and a green glowing blip appeared on his screen. She’d already made it to Ipanema. On the beach. In the moonlight. All alone. Running from him.

  His hunter’s instinct kicked in and he was immediately on the move, getting into his car, navigating the streets as fast as he could in the congestion. He docked the tracking device on the dashboard of his car where he could watch her every move from the corner of his eyes. She was headed west on the beach. He could cut her off if he turned left at the next street. Thomaz’s pulse accelerated. His mouth grew dry. His palms were slick on the steering wheel. His eyes constantly darted from the road to the tracking device.

  The green blip that was Bianca stopped suddenly. She didn’t move for several seconds. A full minute passed. Thomaz was hung up at a red light.

  Another minute passed. Her location still didn’t change.

  Why had she stopped? Had she been accosted on the beach? His mind created a thousand dark scenarios and he viciously cursed himself for his stupidity. Nothing was worth putting her safety at risk.

  The light stayed red.

  Thomaz didn’t care about getting a ticket. All that mattered was getting to Bianca. He zoomed around the car in front of him, ran the red light and almost got side-swiped by a car. The driver saluted him with an obscene gesture. Thomaz didn’t even see it.

  He bolted toward the beach. His heart a hammer in his chest, his gaze glued to the unmoving blip.

  He could see Ipanema. He pulled his sports car haphazardly to a stop on the side of the road, yanked the tracking device from the dashboard and just started running toward the image on the screen.

  He found her lying on the beach. Oh, God, he prayed, please let her be okay. “Bianca!” he cried.

  She sat up. “I decided I didn’t want to run from you. So I lay down here on the beach to look up at the stars. How brilliant they are in the night sky. Do you know how long it’s been since I took the time to stargaze?”