This time she couldn’t smother her moan or stop her head from lolling back against his shoulder.
Joao exhaled heavily, then his hands moved behind her to secure the ties again. ‘Cristo, isso é loucura,’ he muttered tersely under his breath.
No, he wasn’t the only one going insane.
‘I trust you can take care of the rest?’ he growled in her ear.
She gave a jerky little nod but his hand lingered for a pulse-thumping five seconds before he stood up abruptly, his feet splashing lightly as he stepped out of the pool.
‘Don’t stay out here too long. I’ve asked for dinner to be served at seven.’
Saffie nodded again, then forced herself to remain still, knowing that if she turned and faced him, if she so much as caught a glint of hunger in his eyes she would do the unthinkable and beg him to sweep her off her feet, carry her to his bed and make love to her.
Several minutes after he’d left, she remained in the throes of sensation, her oversensitive body unwilling to releas
e her from Joao’s all-powerful thrall.
But it was more than that. Saffie knew the problem was her heart and the unstoppable yearning growing with each second.
Just as she knew she had to find a solution soon...before she reached the dreaded point of no return.
* * *
The dress she chose for dinner was a stylish one-shouldered below-the-knee design that clung to her breasts and hips. The soft cotton accentuated her slight bump and she caught Joao’s gaze on her belly when she arrived in the living room.
He waved the butler away and pulled out her chair, his gaze lingering over her throat and bare arms as he retook his seat. ‘No signs of a burn?’
‘None at all,’ she replied with a forced lightness.
By silent mutual agreement, they made light, business conversation, choosing not to discuss the sensually charged scene at the pool.
‘You think Lavinia will enjoy the soccer match?’
His lips compressed before he swallowed a mouthful of the exclusive Oliviera red burgundy he enjoyed with his steaks. ‘My teams aren’t at the top of the national and international leagues for nothing,’ he stated with the casual arrogance of man who knew the kind of power and influence he wielded.
After purchasing his first Brasileirão club, Clube de Magdalena Santina, he’d spent millions seducing top players from around the world to his team. They’d immediately started winning trophies, the most prized of which currently sitting on a mantel in Joao’s Rio de Janeiro villa.
‘And the team they’re playing against tomorrow?’
‘Below us in the championship. Where they belong,’ he added with a hardened edge of satisfaction.
The curious answer triggered a memory. ‘That’s your father’s team, isn’t it?’
‘Sim,’ he confirmed with a grim smile.
‘Is he going to be there tomorrow?’
He rolled the stem of his glass between long fingers. ‘I should think so.’
Enlightenment widened her eyes. ‘You knew he was, that’s why you wanted Lavinia to be there.’
Joao shrugged. ‘I thought it was time to stop dancing around her decision and make her face us once and for all. Everything is in place, I trust?’
‘Of course.’
He picked up his glass in a silent toast. ‘Bom. Here’s to all our hard work paying off.’
CHAPTER EIGHT