Brazilian Escape. Sandra Marton

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СКАЧАТЬ a little more of what she could never fully have. Because a man like Niklas could only ever be on loan to her. She had flown to him not because she had to, not for the money, and not for the morality of doing the right thing by her husband. Purely because of him, and not once did his anger scare her.

      Not once, as rough hands pulled her dress up, did she fear him.

      He lifted her up and onto him and positioned her, pulling her roughly down to him. The most basic sex was their only release and she wrapped her legs tight around him, locked her arms around his neck. His kiss was violent now, and she felt the clash of their teeth and tongues and the rapid angry stabs of him. The rough feel of denim on her thighs was nothing compared to the roughness deep inside, and her back was hard against the wall. Meg could feel his anger, it blasted deep inside her, and it let Meg be angry too—angry at so many things: that she was here, that she still wanted him, even that this man still moved her so.

      Her moans and shouts that he blocked with his mouth shocked Meg even more—scared her, almost—but she was not scared of him as he pulled her down on him, as she felt the bruise of his fingers in her hips. She could feel her orgasm building rapidly, as if she had waited eleven months just to come to him, as if her body had been waiting for him to set it free.

      There was a flash of confusion for Niklas too, for her cries and the grip of intimate muscles, the arch of her back and the spasm of her thighs, could never be faked. He had thought this was charity, a paid act at best, a sympathy screw at worst, but she was craving him again, the way she once had, and as he shot into her he remembered all the good again—the way they had been. He never cried, but he was as close to it now as he had ever been. They were both drenched in brief release and escape and his kisses turned softer now, to bring her back to him. Then he heard the drizzle of the tap and his eyes opened to his surroundings, to the reality they faced. There were no more kisses to be had and he lifted her off.

      Stood her down.

      But she would not lose him to his pride and she carried on kissing him, opened his shirt and put her palms to his chest. He felt as if her hands seared him, for there had been no contact, no touch of another on his skin for many months, and he loathed the exposure, the prying of her hands. It was just sex he wanted, not her, but her hands were still moving, exploring the defined muscles. Her fingers were a pleasure and he did not want her to be here—yet he wanted her for every second that they had.

      There would be hours later for thinking, for working out what to do about Miguel. For now he wanted every minute he had left with her.

      He took her to the bed and undressed her, took his clothes off too, and she looked at all the changes to his body. He was thinner, but more muscled, and his face wasn’t the one she had turned to on the plane—it was closed and angry, and yet she had felt his pain back there, felt him slip into affection, and for a small moment had glimpsed the man she had once met.

      ‘Is that why you ended things?’ She looked over to him as he joined her on the bed, but he just lay and looked up at the ceiling. ‘Did you find out the trouble you were in?’

      ‘I didn’t know then.’ It would be easier for her if he lied.

      ‘So what happened that morning to change things?’

      ‘I spoke to my people at work, realised how much I had on …’

      ‘I don’t believe you.’

      ‘Believe in your fairytale if you want.’ Niklas shrugged.

      ‘Are you going to tell me to grow up again?’ she asked. ‘Because I grew up a long time ago—long before you met me. I’ve realised that I wasn’t being weak staying in my job—I simply won’t ride roughshod over the people I care about. And I don’t believe that you would either and,’ she finished, ‘I do believe that you cared about me.’

      ‘Believe what you want to.’

      ‘I will,’ Meg said. ‘And I care about you.’

      ‘It makes no difference to me.’

      She had been paid plenty to be here with him so he should turn and start things. She had told him what she had came to say and the clock was counting down. He should use every minute wisely. They should not bother with talking—there were more basic things to be getting on with. Except this was Meg, and she didn’t know how to separate the two.

      ‘How are you dealing with being in here? How—?’ she started, but he soon interrupted.

      ‘I was right the first time.’ He turned to look at her face—the face he had first seen on a plane. ‘You talk too much. And I don’t want to talk about me.’ But before he moved to kiss her he allowed himself the luxury of just one question. ‘Are you still working for your parents?’

      ‘I resigned …’ Meg said. ‘I’m trying to choose my course at the moment …’

      ‘Good,’ Niklas said. He should push her hand down to where he was hardening again, but first there was something else he wanted to know. ‘Are you okay?’

      ‘Of course.’

      ‘Are you happy?’

      ‘Working on it.’

      ‘Do your parents know you are here?’

      ‘They know that I am in Brazil …’ he saw tears pool in her eyes ‘… they don’t know I have a husband that I’m visiting in prison.’

      ‘You need to get away from here,’ Niklas said. ‘As soon as this visit is over.’

      ‘I fly to Hawaii tomorrow.’

      ‘Okay.’ Tomorrow should be okay, he told himself, but he wasn’t sure. ‘Maybe change it to tonight …’

      ‘I fly out at six a.m.’

      He saw her grimace at the thought, remembered the first time they had met and the conversation they had had.

      ‘How was your landing?’ And for the first time he smiled. He didn’t care how much they’d paid her, that she’d flown into Congonhas was enough for him to know that this had nothing to do with money.

      ‘It wasn’t so bad …’ she attempted, and then told him the truth. ‘I was petrified. I thought I was going to throw up. Although,’ she added, ‘that might have been the gin!’

      He laughed, and so did she. He hadn’t laughed for almost a year, but this afternoon he did. She kicked him and they fought for a bit—a nice fight, a friendly fight—and he took her back to when they’d been lovers so easily, far, far too easily. But, given this was the last time she would be here, she let him. No one could kiss like he did. It was quite simply perfect, and the feel of him hard in her hands was perfect too.

      This time he would be gentle, Niklas decided, worried that he had been too rough before. He didn’t just kiss her mouth, he kissed her everywhere—her hair and her ears and down to her neck, breathing in her scent. He kissed down to her waist and then further, to where he wanted to be. He had been too rough, for she was hot and swollen, but Meg lay there and felt his soft kiss and was lost to it.

      When he couldn’t hold on any more he reached for the condom that was a requirement in here. Her hands reached for it too, and he let her put it on, but before СКАЧАТЬ