Abruptly he released her and thrust his hands into his pockets. ‘You can cry over a horse, yet you did not cry when you lost our child,’ he said harshly. ‘But I know you regretted your pregnancy and perhaps you did not find the loss of our baby so terrible.’
Sabrina stared at his hard face and the arrogant line of his mouth and a fierce rage simmered inside her. ‘Not terrible?’ she choked. ‘The day of the miscarriage was the worst day of my life. I was utterly heartbroken when I lost Luiz.’ At Cruz’s look of surprise, she went on to explain, ‘We’d discussed baby names. When I was miscarrying they scanned me at the hospital and could see that we were expecting a boy. Although he never lived in the world, he lived inside me for seventeen weeks and I wanted him to have a name.’
She felt a couple of spots of rain and glanced up to see ominous dark clouds had covered the sun. But she ignored the imminent storm as the storm inside her became an unstoppable force. ‘How can you suggest that I wasn’t affected by the miscarriage? I was devastated.’
‘If you were, you hid it well.’ Cruz’s tone seemed to imply that he did not believe her. ‘You did not appear grief-stricken—and I should know. After I was born my parents tried unsuccessfully for many years to have another child. My mother suffered several miscarriages and each time she lost a baby she was beside herself with grief. My overriding memory of my childhood was hearing my mother sobbing,’ he said grimly.
‘After a few months she would be happy because she was pregnant again, but each of her pregnancies ended in more tears and heartache and there was nothing that I or my father could do to comfort her. My mother believed it was a miracle when she eventually gave birth to my twin sisters, fourteen years after she’d had me.’
Sabrina stared at him. Ten years ago he had not spoken about what had happened to his mother, and his revelation now gave a new insight to why he had been overly protective during her pregnancy. ‘I appreciate that your mother must have been distraught every time she suffered a miscarriage. Everyone deals with things differently and at the time we lost Luiz I was in a state of shock and I couldn’t cry. But that wasn’t because I didn’t care.’ She was shaking with anger now. ‘How dare you judge me because my reaction to losing my baby was different from your mother’s? And how dare you say that I had regretted falling pregnant? If you believe that, it proves that you never really knew me, and you certainly didn’t care about me. All you wanted was our child.’
Her voice rose as her words spilled out in a furious torrent. ‘Nothing has changed. You didn’t want me then and you don’t want me now. The only reason you’re willing to pay me to be your mistress is for my social skills and because you think my connections with the aristocracy will boost sales for your jewellery company. Well, I am not for sale!’
She whirled away from him and ran across the yard, heading towards the nearest shelter from the rain that was now falling hard. By the time she reached the hay shed her jacket was soaked and she wrenched open the buttons and tugged her arms out of the sleeves.
‘I don’t want you? That’s a laugh,’ Cruz’s voice growled close to her ear.
Sabrina spun round and gasped as he snaked his arm around her waist and hauled her against his muscular and very aroused body. She looked up at his face and saw no evidence of laughter on his hard-boned features, only a savage determination that made her heart lurch.
‘Does this feel like I do not want you, gatinha?’ he demanded. He gave her no chance to reply as he captured her mouth with his and kissed her with a fierce hunger, crushing her lips as he sought to crush her resistance with his urgent desire.
CHAPTER SEVEN
HE FILLED HER SENSES, and beneath his hands her body became alive, every skin cell and nerve-ending quivering with pleasure at his touch. But Sabrina still felt blazingly angry at how badly he had misjudged her at the time of the miscarriage. When she was eighteen she had put Cruz on a pedestal and thought he could do no wrong. But now she was older and wiser and she knew he was a mortal man with strengths but also weaknesses.
She was determined not to be overwhelmed by him as she had been in the past. His physical strength was superior to hers, but she was not going to submissively let him have things all his own way. His mouth was creating havoc as he trailed his lips over her cheek to her ear and his sharp teeth bit her tender lobe. She repressed a shudder of longing and renewed her attempts to resist him, but her wild struggling had a counter-effect, she discovered, as she felt his rock-hard arousal push against her thigh.
His arms were like bands of steel around her, making escape impossible. He slid one hand down and splayed his fingers over her buttocks, urging her into even closer contact with the solid ridge of his manhood straining beneath his trousers. Sabrina gasped as he circled his hips against her pelvis, and in a corner of her mind she registered that he could not be faking his desire. Cruz was on fire for her and she was melting in his heat.
His other hand tangled in her hair as he angled her head and kissed her mouth again, forcing her lips apart so that his tongue could plunder her inner sweetness. He kissed her as if he could not have enough of her, as if he had fought a battle with himself and lost.
‘I wish I did not want you,’ he muttered when he finally wrenched his mouth from hers to allow them both to drag oxygen into their lungs. ‘You are like a drug in my veins, so bloody addictive that I can’t resist you even though I know I should for the sake of my sanity.’
His words made no sense to Sabrina. How could she be a threat to Cruz’s sanity? It was the other way round, and it was imperative that she found the strength of will to resist him. He still had one hand clamped on her bottom, and he moved his other hand to the front of her shirt. Her heart gave a jolt when he began to unfasten the buttons, but she did not stop him, couldn’t, if she was brutally honest.
Excitement spiralled inside her as he pushed her shirt off her shoulders to reveal her plain white bra. She wished she were wearing sexy underwear in black satin and lace, but then Cruz traced his fingers over the outline of her nipple visible through the stretchy material of her bra and she caught her breath as a shaft of exquisite pleasure shot through her.
‘It doesn’t help that you are so damned responsive,’ he said harshly. He reached around her back to unfasten her bra and tugged the straps down her arms, baring her breasts to his hot gaze. His voice thickened. ‘How the hell am I supposed to resist you when your body tells me that you are as hungry as I am?’
Sabrina shivered when he cupped her naked breasts in his hands, but it was not cold that made her nipples harden into burgeoning points but anticipation and uncontrollable sexual excitement. Cruz gave a husky laugh as he flicked his thumb pads across her nipples and heard her swiftly indrawn breath.
‘I remember you used to love it when I caressed your breasts with my hands and especially my mouth. Do you still like that, gatinha?’ He gave another low chuckle when he realised that she was incapable of replying. ‘Let’s find out, shall we?’
Dimly she knew she should stop him and bring an end to this madness, but she was enraptured by the feel of his warm hands on her flesh, seduced by his soft words of promise. He lifted her into his arms and laid her down on the pile of square hay bales. The hay felt scratchy beneath her shoulders but she forgot the slight discomfort as Cruz knelt over her and lowered his head to her breast. He drew her nipple into his mouth and suckled her hard. The pleasure was so intense that she gave a keening cry and curled her fingers into his shoulders to urge him to continue his exquisite torment.
He needed no persuading, pausing only to transfer his mouth to her other nipple. ‘Oh, God!’ she groaned as deep shudders of pleasure racked her body when he flicked his tongue back and forth over the tender peak. She could feel the fire building low in her pelvis as he continued his merciless ravishment of her body. Reality faded and she was aware only of the sweet smell of hay, the sound of the rain drumming on the roof of the shed and Cruz’s uneven breaths as he took his mouth from her breast and
claimed her lips in a deep, drugging kiss that ravaged her soul.
This was the Cruz she remembered from the past. He might wear expensive clothes now, instead of jeans, and drink champagne rather than beer, but the essence of him hadn’t changed and her senses recognised the familiar musk of male pheromones and the subtle scent that was uniquely him.
She ran her hands over his soaking-wet shirt and tugged open the buttons before pushing the material over his shoulders. His bronzed chest was satin overlaid with black hairs that felt like silk beneath her fingertips as she traced the ridges of his powerful pectoral and abdominal muscles.
He was so beautiful. And so massively aroused! Desire flooded through her when he bore his weight down on her so that her breasts were crushed against his bare chest and she was supremely conscious of his erection pressing into the junction between her thighs. Their clothes were an unwanted barrier. The fire inside her burned hotter and became an inferno of feverish need, and she sensed from the fierce intensity of Cruz’s kiss that he had passed the point of no return.
He tugged the zip of her jodhpurs down but struggled to pull the clingy trousers over her hips.
‘These were not designed for easy access,’ he growled impatiently.
The sound of his voice broke through the sexual haze surrounding Sabrina’s brain and forced her to acknowledge a vital fact.
‘I’m not on the pill,’ she muttered.
Cruz did not seem to hear her as he managed to slip his hand inside her jodhpurs and stroked a finger over the damp panel of her knickers. Instinctively she arched her hips and a shudder of longing ran through her when he eased the panel aside and touched her eager flesh. But her common sense could not be ignored. She would never risk another unplanned pregnancy and she pulled at his hand to make him stop his intimate exploration.
‘We can’t. I’m not protected.’
This time he heard and he lifted his head and stared down at her, his eyes glittering with frustration before he swore savagely and rolled away. He lay on his back on the hay bales and held his forearm across his eyes—almost, Sabrina thought, as if he was ashamed of what emotions they might reveal. But he could not disguise the ragged sound of his breathing or the heaving of his chest as he dragged air into his lungs. Outside, the rain fell harder and somehow the thunderous drumming on the roof and the feeling that they were trapped in the hay shed made the prickling atmosphere even tenser.
‘Cruz...’ She flinched as he leapt to his feet and could not disguise her shock when she saw his tortured expression.
He gave a bitter laugh. ‘So now you have discovered the truth. How does it feel to know that you have the power to bring a grown man to his knees? Of course I damn well want you.’ He threw the words at her as if the confession had been ripped from his soul. ‘I wanted you ten years ago and nothing has changed. I desire you more than I have ever desired any other woman. You are my nemesis, gatinha.’ His lip curled in self-mockery. ‘No doubt you are gloating at my weakness?’
‘No,’ she said shakily. His self-contempt touched something inside her and she stretched her hand towards him. ‘Cruz, I...’
He swore again and snatched up his shirt, thrusting his arms into the sleeves with such violent force that the material ripped. Deus, was that pity he had heard in Sabrina’s voice? Cruz felt humiliated by his inability to resist her and his anger made him want to verbally lash out at her.
‘However much you might wish to deny it, you want me as badly as I want you. We are both gripped by this madness, and neither of us will know any peace until we have sated our desire for each other.’
He strode over to the door and turned to look at her, his mouth curling into a mocking smile as he noted her flushed face and rumpled hair before he dropped his gaze deliberately to her breasts. ‘Your body betrays you,’ he drawled, and laughed softly when she grabbed her shirt and held it in front of her to hide her swollen, reddened nipples.
‘You have two hours left before your deadline expires and you lose your only chance to safeguard your home. Think of the benefits. As my mistress you will enjoy six months of the best sex you’ve ever known. I don’t believe any other man has turned you on as much as I do,’ he taunted.
‘Go to hell!’ Infuriated beyond endurance, Sabrina grabbed an old horseshoe that was lying on the floor and flung it at Cruz. But he had already walked out of the door and the iron shoe clattered on the flagstones of the stable yard.
She watched him stride across the yard until he had disappeared from view and then flopped down on the hay bales, breathing hard as if she had run a marathon. No one but Cruz Delgado had ever made her feel so furiously angry. And he had been right, damn him—so turned on!
Her hands were shaking too much to be able to fasten her bra and she gave up and pulled on her shirt, wincing as the material scraped over her acutely sensitive nipples. The ache of unfulfilled sexual desire slowly ebbed from her body but the image of Cruz’s tormented expression lingered in her mind.
It was not true that he had only asked her to be his mistress because her aristocratic background would be useful to his business.
Cruz wanted her in his bed and he had actually admitted that he desired her more than any other woman. The realisation that he wanted her for herself above any other reason gave her a feeling of liberation and her self-confidence soared.
During her childhood, and especially her teenage years, she had felt rejected by both her parents and the feeling that she was somehow not good enough had made her anxious to please people. She had striven to be a perfect daughter and a perfect sister to her younger brother, even though it had often meant sublimating her hopes and desires out of a sense of duty to her family.
Rarely had she put herself first or thought about what she wanted, Sabrina realised. But Cruz’s admission freed her from her insecurities and she acknowledged that what she wanted and desired more than anything was him.
He had stated that neither of them would have any peace until they had sated their desire for each other, and she could not deny it was the truth. She had never forgotten him and she recognised that subconsciously she had compared every man she’d dated to Cruz. Dear God! After ten years he was still in her system, she thought with a flash of despair. She had allowed herself to be held back by the past for far too long. But if she agreed to be his mistress in a sex-without-strings affair she hoped she could walk away from him at the end of six months, having gained closure, and finally be able to move forwards with her life.
* * *
The vintage champagne cost eight hundred pounds a bottle and the caviar was Iranian beluga. Only the absolute finest—and most expensive, Cruz thought sardonically—delicacies were good enough to be served to the exclusive guests attending the exclusive party to celebrate the launch of Delgado Diamonds’ new premises in Bond Street.
The flagship store was spread over four floors and had been designed in a contemporary and ultra-luxurious style. The party was taking place in the main salon where the lacquered walnut-panelled walls and Italian marble floors provided a stunning backdrop for exquisite crystal chandeliers suspended from the double-height ceiling, which gave the room a feeling of lofty grandeur.
Cruz sipped his champagne and looked around the room at the guests who were milling between glass display cabinets admiring jewellery presented on black velvet cushions. Discreet lighting added to the ambiance of the room, and the soft hum of muted conversation was barely disturbed by the faint clink of glasses borne on silver trays by the waiters.
He had come a long way from the favela in Belo Horizonte, and the mine at Montes Claros. He wondered what his guests would think of him if he revealed that once he had spent his days underground digging diamonds out of rock. Few people knew the truth of his background and he preferred to keep it that way. He was not ashamed of the fact that he had clawed his way out of poverty, but he was finding it hard enough to be accepted into high society, and it was better that he was regarded as a man of mystery than a beggar
from the gutter, he thought cynically.
He pictured Sabrina when she had visited his Kensington apartment looking the epitome of elegance in a black cocktail dress and pearls. In his head he heard her cool voice crisply informing him that she would not demean herself to have sex with him. She had forgotten her high ideals when he had kissed her at the stables earlier today. His body tightened involuntarily as he remembered her soft moans of pleasure when he had flicked his tongue across her turgid nipples. When he had tumbled her down in the hay she had lost her airs and graces and turned into the sensual wildcat she had been in Brazil.
He shifted his position in an effort to ease the nagging ache in his groin and cursed his impatience that had made him come on to her with an embarrassing lack of finesse instead of his usual laid-back charm. Why was he even bothering to pursue her? he asked himself. At least half the women at the party were sending him signals that they were available and he knew he could have any one of them in his bed with minimum effort on his part. But the only woman he wanted was not here and he could only look forward to another night of sexual frustration.
A ripple of activity over by the door caught his attention and he assumed a guest had arrived late to the party. He could not see past the burly bodyguard, but inexplicably he felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.
* * *
For some reason, the proverb ‘clothes maketh the man’ slipped into Sabrina’s mind, but it was a new dress that was making this particular woman feel slightly more confident—and at this moment she needed all the self-confidence she could get!
Strictly speaking, the midnight-blue silk crepe gown with narrow diamanté shoulder straps wasn’t new. She had bought it last year when she had still been able to afford to buy haute couture but had never had the opportunity to wear it until now. As she entered the main salon of Delgado Diamonds’ opulent Mayfair store she breathed a sigh of relief that her name had been on the guest list and she had avoided an argument with the security guard, or, even worse, the humiliation of being escorted from the premises.
Mistress of His Revenge (Bought by the Brazilian #1) Page 8
