Amazon Awakening

It made Paola consider what it would be like to feel that kind of love, but also the despair which followed. And it made her speculate how her grandmother must have suffered, losing her grandchild and then her son barely a year apart.

I’d do it all again, her mother had insisted barely hours earlier during their dinner together.

Which made Paola feel like a coward for not even considering doing it once. After all, what did she have to lose? she thought as she poured herself a glass of wine and sat down on the sofa in her apartment.

How about your partnership? the little voice in her head challenged.

For months, the rumor had been that she was being considered for a position amongst the firm’s partners. It would mean more money, not that she had need of it. Her mother’s family was well-off, and she made enough of her own to not only pay for her expenses, but to squirrel away something for the future. If she was going to be made partner it would happen, if not now then in a few months or a year or two.

How about your comfortable life? the voice insisted while Paola sipped the cab franc, savoring its full-bodied taste, so unlike her not-so-full life.

In fact, her boring life, she shot back to that imaginary adversary. Lately, she had been spending too much time at work with little time to play, and the thrill of winning… It had become hollow since she had no one with whom to share the success.

How about losing yourself?

Now that was an argument that was difficult to ignore. Just earlier that night her mother had hinted at the fact that during their return to her father’s Amazonian plantation it was as if her father had disappeared before her eyes. Her mother had lost him to his frequent trips into the rain forest and the demands of his legacy.

A legacy you know nothing about.

But if her grandmother passed…

More than just the supposed Lopes legacy would be gone. She paused for a moment, considering that. Considering that she stood to lose a bit of herself, a bit of what had made her who she was, if she didn’t take this trip to learn more about her father’s family.

She laid the wine glass on her coffee table and dipped her hand into her jacket pocket. Fingered the card tucked inside. Ran her fingers over the embossed edges of his name and title.

Rey Peralta. Her personal guide to her father’s world. To the grandmother she had never known. Possibly a guide to something else she had ignored—the needs of her heart and body. She couldn’t deny her attraction to him from the moment he had walked through the door of her office. Even now, just the thought of him pooled warmth in her center and awakened something hidden within her.

What would it be like to take and be taken by a man like Rey? To lose all caution and dare to explore the unexpected as her mother had done nearly thirty years ago?

I’d do it all again.

Her mother’s words challenged her.

Rey would be waiting for her answer. But only until Friday. Just a couple of days away. But she wasn’t one to rush, especially considering that her mother’s headlong dash into her father’s arms had caused her great heartache.

Paola was determined not to repeat that bit of painful history, no matter how attracted she was to her grandmother’s emissary. She had to make a logical choice about what to do and not be ruled by reckless emotion or a needy heart. That had already brought her family too much pain.

Whatever this legacy was, she’d have to find a way to deal with it and with her attraction to Rey.

She tossed Rey’s card down on the coffee table and picked up her glass of wine. She took a sip and leaned back, letting her mind run through all the variables. Although the Friday deadline loomed large in her brain, she was certain of one thing.

Rey can wait until I’m good and ready.

It was a mistake to be here, he thought, as Paola’s assistant let him into Paola’s office and he closed the door behind him.

She was in that big executive chair, a sheath of papers in her hand that she slowly laid down as she swiveled to face him.

“It’s not Friday yet,” she said and took no other action to either welcome him or push him away.

Rey had never been someone who easily gave up. Walking to her desk and then around the edge, he stood there, hands clenched to keep from touching her. “I’m not one to leave things to chance,” he said.

“Neither am I,” she replied and did a slow turn to peer up at him, hands braced on the arms of the chair, long elegant legs crossed. Her position hiked up her skirt, allowing him a glimpse of something deliciously lacy just below the staid navy blue fabric.

He itched to explore that bit of sexy lace.

“We both know you’re more than just a buttoned-up suit,” he said and dared to graze his hand along the straight line of her shin to just below her knee.

She trembled beneath that caress and uncrossed her legs, hiding that view of the lace, but providing yet another little turn-on.

“I can smell it. Your arousal,” he said with a little growl from the animal spirit within him that was finding it hard to battle her enticement. It was almost unfair since she was still unaware of who she really was and the legacy that could bring so much pleasure, but also pain.

Paola closed her legs tight as if by doing so she could shut away the desire he was creating with only his presence, but it was a losing battle. Her panties were drenched with her passion, and her nipples were so tight and sensitive even the fine fabric of her bra was inflaming her need.

“You’re not what you seem, either,” she replied, the low little growl in his voice still vibrating within her.

“Can you continue to ignore what you’re feeling now?” he said and held out his hand in both challenge and invitation.

She glanced at his hand, so big and strong. A crisscross of fine lines along his knuckles hinted at some old wounds, confirming that he was a man of action and not a desk jockey. Following the line of his arm, she realized that not even his expensively tailored suit could hide the power beneath the fabric. He oozed strength, and her insides clenched at the thought of all that power directed toward her.

Power too impossible to resist? she wondered, barely a second before slipping her hand into his and rising from her chair. She half expected him to crush her to him, but he didn’t, keeping her inches away while he brought his other hand to her waist.

The weight of his palm on her felt right somehow. But then he trailed that hand lower until he reached the edge of her skirt. He slipped his fingers beneath the fabric and slowly, achingly, skimmed his rough palm along her leg until he encountered the lacy edge of the thigh-high stockings she wore.

He traced that edge with his finger, skipping from lace to the soft skin of her thigh. Making her insides quiver as she imagined that hand moving ever upward, his work-hardened skin rasping along her smoothness.

He finally leaned closer, his warm breath fanning across her temple before he dipped his head and whispered, “You are so much more than what you show the world.”

Before she could deny his statement, he did what she had wanted and brought his hand between her legs, caressing her through the silky fabric of her damp panties. Unerringly finding her center and applying gentle pressure against that sensitive nub.

Her knees weakened, and she grabbed hold of his shoulders for support. Shifting her hips forward, she accepted his wicked caress. He eased past the edge of her panties and slipped his hand inward. Dancing his fingers along her cleft, he teased her, stroking her wet, flushed lips and pressing his thumb against her clitoris, but avoiding what she wanted most.