Walk Softly and Carry a Big Lick

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WALK SOFTLY AND CARRY A BIG LICK JEANIE JOHNSON & JAYHA LEIGH Copyright 2011 © by Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including but not limited to: printing, photocopying, faxing, recording, electronic transmission, or by any information storage or retrieval system without prior written permission from the authors or holders of the copyright. This book is a work of fiction. References may be made to locations and historical events; however, names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the authors‘ imaginations and/or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), businesses, events or locales is either used fictitiously or coincidental. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only. Published by Beautiful Trouble Publishing, LLC PO Box 61 Colfax, NC 27235 www.beautifultroublepublishing.com Cover Art: Les Byerley http://www.marteekakarland.com/ http://www.les3photo8.com/ Editor: Stephanie Parent Proofreader: Novellette Whyte http://authorgurunovellette.blogspot.com/ Formatting: Savannah J. Frierson http://sjfbooks.com/editing/ E-book conversions: Savannah J. Frierson ISBN: (eBook) 978-1-61788-060-5; (print) 978-1-61788-111-4

To pilgrims everywhere—those who actually physically go on pilgrimages, and those who desire to go but cannot.

Nosso céu tem mais estrelas, Nossas várzeas têm mais flores, Nossos bosques têm mais vida, Nossa vida mais amores. Our sky has more stars, Our meadows more flowers Our woods have more life, Our life has more loves.

—―Song of Exile,‖ Gonçalves Dias, Brazilian poet (18231864),

NOTE ABOUT EBOOKS eBooks are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving away eBooks is a copyright infringement. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author or Beautiful Trouble Publishing.

CAVEAT This work of erotica contains adult language and sexually explicit scenes, which are smoking hot. This book is intended only for adults, as it is defined by the laws of the country in which the purchase is made. Keep this book out of the hands of under-aged readers.

PORTUGUESE TERMS Advogada/o—lawyer (f/m) Anel—ring Andebol—handball Atletismo—athletics Avó/Avô/Avós— Grandmother/Grandfath er/Grandparents Baunilha—vanilla Boa/bom—good (f/m) Boca—mouth Cabelo—hair Calças—trousers Calças de ganga—jeans Castanho—brown Ceia—dinner Cintura—waist Coração—heart Cunhada—sister-in-law Delicioso/a—delicious Departamento de Polícia Federal—the Brazilian federal police (permanent administrative part of the executive branch) which

includes airport and water police Desodorizante— deodorant Desculpesorry (formal) Difícil—difficult Dois—two Esposa—wife Filha—daughter Filho—son Gatinha—The literal translation is cat, however in Brazil it is a common expression used to indicate attractiveness. Gostoso/a—The literal translation is ―tasty,‖ but its figurative use is sexual. Irmão—brother Irmã—sister Honesta/o—honest (f/m) Linda/o—beautiful (female/male) Língua—tongue

Mãe—mom Mão—hand Maracujá—passion fruit Marido—husband Minha filha—my daughter Não—no Neto/Neta— grandson/granddaughter Nora—daughter-in-law Obrigada/0—thank you (f/m) Ouro Preto—Literally ―black gold.‖ Originally named Vila Rica, it was at the center of Brazil‘s Gold Rush in the 18th century. Paella—A rice dish considered Spanish in origin although it has Moorish influences. There are many recipes for paella, including traditional, seafood, mixed, and vegetarian. Pai—father Pais—parents

Pão doce—pudding Pele—skin Peito—chest Pêssego—peach de Polícia—police Primavera—spring (season) Primo—male cousins Querida/o—darling, dear (f/m) Râguebi—rugby Roupa interior— underwear Sabão—soap Saboroso—tasty Sandálias—sandals Sim—yes Sobrinho—nephew Soutien—bra Suja/o—dirty (f/m) Talheiro—butcher Ténis—tennis shoes Tia/Tio—aunt/uncle Verão—summer (season) Você me entende—Do you understand me?

CHAPTER ONE A mild-mannered, no-nonsense, get-shitdone type of woman, Eshe Nada wasn‘t the type of chick who wasted a moment of her existence waiting around for a knight to rescue her. And by knight she meant all kinds, including a knight in shining armor, a knight in a clergy collar, or a knight with a CPS (Child Protective Services) badge. A self-contained woman, she rarely asked for help. In fact, in her twenty-odd years she‘d asked for help exactly three times. But right now, in this moment and the many moments before this, Eshe had called upon everyone she knew of to help her. She‘d called upon the ancestors…all of them all the way back to Adam and Eve and Original Sin. She‘d called upon the saints—the patron saint of mercy, the patron saint of justice, the patron saint of lost causes. Because the situation was so dire, she‘d even mentally called upon the New Orleans Saints. She‘d called upon superheroes, aliens, mythological creatures and gods (small g) across culture and time. None of it was working. ―I‘m going to kill him, murder him, kill him some more. Then I‘m going to bring him back to

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life and maim him a little bit before killing him again,‖ Eshe said inside her head. She would‘ve said it aloud and backed it up with a gun, a knife, and her fists except for one. Small. Detail. They were on a plane, and she was sure whatever the air marshals, the government of whatever foreign country they would be forced to land in, and her own government would do to her would be worse than what her about to be ―disappeared without a trace‖ boss was doing to her right now. Twenty minutes later, Eshe reconsidered her previous statement. Compared to Yngvi‘s endless fucking complaints, foreign prison wasn‘t sounding so bad. For that matter, death by firing squad wasn‘t sounding bad. How could this man be one of the brains behind Sons Engineering? How was it that his other five partners hadn‘t killed him? Oh yeah, because five of the six partners were dicks. Still, if she had her choice, she‘d take any of them over Yngvi. How could one person complain so much? Counting down from a thousand by square roots, she asked herself for the millionth time, why hadn‘t she listened to her sister and accidentally-on-purpose lightly jooged Yngvi in his throat during their layover? If she had, Yngvi would be enjoying a nice tracheotomy and resting

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in a Brazilian hospital, and she and her little sister would be en route to enjoying an adventure in the Amazon Rainforest. But no, the thought of what a felony could do to her career prospects had caused her to stay her hand, and now instead of enjoying a rainforest adventure with her sister, she was stuck thirty-five thousand feet in the air, listening to the man she‘d decided was about to be ex-alive complain and complain and complain. Closing her eyes, she thought of all of the fairytales she‘d read to her little sister and wished for a magic wand so she could render Yngvi mute…or dead. Frankly, either one was fine with her at the moment, as long as him being dead didn‘t result in fluids oozing on her person. The worst part of his bitching was the fact that she didn‘t even have her sister there to help her endure it. Whereas Eshe had the patience of Job and was even-tempered, so much that she was called emotionless, Esha had absolutely zero patience for dumb shit, and ―kick their ass, fit them with some concrete shoes and drop them into the Mariana Trench‖ was her preferred method of resolving a conflict. Eshe had always thought Esha‘s ways of handling things was overkill…until today.

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She‘d also taunted Esha that she was smarter, but today had proven differently. As soon as they had disembarked for their layover, Esha had turned to her and asked one question. ―Can I kill him?‖ ―No,‖ she‘d said. ―Why?‖ Esha‘d whined. ―The little thing called the ‗law.‘ There‘s also the fact that he‘s one of our bosses, which would probably cause some social awkwardness at the water cooler.‖ ―Well then, I‘m out because I mean it, Eshe, if I spend one more second in that man‘s presence—and I use the term ‗man‘ lightly—one of us is going to die, and I can guarantee it won‘t be me.‖ And with that, her sister had headed straight for the ticket counter and jumped on the first plane heading out of Brazil, not giving two shits where it went as long as it was away from Yngvi Aðalmundsson. Eshe didn‘t blame her. Hearing yet another complaint slide from Yngvi‘s mouth, she closed her eyes and indulged in something she rarely did: she felt sorry for herself. That seen to, she went right back to praying.

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Eshe had prayed so much during this day she could‘ve had honorary membership in the Amen corner. In fact, she‘d done more praying on this day then she‘d done in the whole of her life. Considering the bulk of her life, that was really saying something. Her praying had started on the forty-minute ride to Hartsfield-Jackson Airport…at one freaking a.m. It lasted through the ―get damn near naked‖ boarding process, the hour wait for boarding, through the ten-hour flight from Atlanta to Rio de Janeiro, and continued through the three-hour layover. She prayed while she saw her sister off to an Yngvifree plane ride and kept it up throughout the three-hour flight from Rio to Recife. She prayed through disembarking, through baggage claim, and all the way to the food court where she‘d stopped to get a cup of coffee to take the edge off and ease the headache behind her eye that had been there since that morning. Eshe sipped and prayed, prayed and sipped, and when she opened her eyes and saw Yngvi still standing there with his lips still moving, she simply amped it and went all tent revival and started humming. She realized that humming wasn‘t going to cut it, so she dug deep and broke out into song—and not just any hymn. Mmm-

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hmm, Yngvi ―I think the world revolves around me‖ Aðalmundsson was working her nerves so bad that she had to skip past the feel-good hymns and go straight to the Negro spirituals. She started out with the chorus of ―The Gospel Train‖ before lapsing into ―Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.‖ And then, Yngvi spoke again. It was a bunch of blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Stuff she didn‘t care about. Stuff she‘d never care about (like him) or ever do (date him). Useless bit of information. Random bragging. Inviting her to explore his body…with her tongue (as motherfucking if). More blah, blah, blah. Having a sip of rich, dark coffee, she stopped her singing and spoke. ―Since you‘re so rich and perfect and godlike, why didn‘t you simply charter a private jet to Brazil?‖ ―Because then you‘d be deprived of the man who is me.‖ Eshe went speechless at his words. Ten people had tried to kill him this week alone. Okay, so it wasn‘t ten different people, just one person who‘d made ten attempts on his life. Okay, fine, so the person was Esha, and that dude had it coming. But right now, she couldn‘t blame Esha for her actions.

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―Yngvi, is there a reason you‘re turning this trip into BitchFest 2011?‖ ―Yes, because I don‘t want to be here. Why didn‘t you tell me we were going to the Amazon?‖ ―I did. Remember going over our itinerary?‖ ―Yes, but…‖ ―Remember me telling you to be sure to pack for the Amazon?‖ she asked as she looked over at him. ―Yes, but…‖ Her patience at an all-time low, she asked, ―Yes, but what, Yngvi?‖ ―When you said ‗Amazon‘ I thought you meant the company, and we‘d tour it like the GooglePlex or something.‖ Eshe had witnessed her fair share of unbelievable shit, but the words that came out of Yngvi‘s mouth surpassed anything she‘d ever come across. She meant to stay calm. Really, she did, but the sheer amount of stupid in that statement proved to be too much. It was the straw that broke the camel‘s back. ―Get out.‖ Noting how much her voice trembled, Eshe lowered the volume. ―Get. Out. Now.‖

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―Stop being foolish. I‘ve already flown sixteen hours to be here. I just want to get to our five-star hotel, order some five-star cuisine and go back to civilization.‖ ―Ignoring the fact that you‘re from somewhere in the backwoods of Denmark, you do realize that Brazil has one of the fastest-growing economies in the world, right?‖ she asked. ―And that Latin America emancipated its slaves well before the US, right?‖ ―That‘s neither here nor there.‖ ―Of course not, Yngvi, because that little bit of information doesn‘t work to your advantage. You have a Ph.D.!‖ she exclaimed. ―I cannot believe you have a doctorate and that much stupid. Despite you being a partner, I just can‘t talk to you anymore. Verily, I say unto you, you give me a headache in my uterus.‖ ―I knew you wanted me.‖ He smiled all smug-like. Eshe was going to kill him. She was going to kill him dead. Nope, on second thought, she was going to kill him deader than dead. ―I‘m not even on my period, but I think I just felt a clot the size of my fist drop out of my body.‖

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―It‘s a good thing I didn‘t ingest plane food, else I would‘ve hurled. I really don‘t know what Njarðar sees in you,‖ Yngvi said. ―Probably something most people don‘t see in you: intelligence, fearlessness, and ambition.‖ ―You‘re the type of woman to inspire a man to violence.‖ ―I‘m also the type of woman who will murder said motherfucking man in cold blood and bury his ass under the foundation of his own house. So when you feel like dying, you put your hands on me.‖ She knew that as idiotic as Yngvi was, he‘d never stoop so low as to put his hands on any woman, but damn, he worked her nerves so bad. The only way she could ensure that she didn‘t kill him was to walk off. Getting to stepping, she prayed to all three parts of the Holy Trinity—the Supreme Creator, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit—the entire time. ―Please, please, please, stay my hand to help me refrain from killing this man. Please give me the strength to table the beat-down I so desperately want to give him and he so desperately needs. Please deliver me from the ridiculousness of this man. I need a balm in Gilead. I need a balm in Gilead.‖

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Opening her eyes, Eshe met the sympathetic gazes belonging to all the other passengers on the flight. In fact, a nice, tall and broad gentleman was smiling at her and gesturing to his badge. Eshe smiled back, the first genuine smile since this morning. Her smile got bigger when the officer pointed to his holster and then at her exboyfriend. Despite everything, Eshe couldn‘t help but laugh. Ah, she did so love Brazilians.

CHAPTER TWO Enéas Roraima loved his irmão and his soon-to-be cunhada, truly loved them, and it was for this reason he had spent the day with the imbeciles that people kept insisting were his primos. All he was meant to do was pick up Pac‘s best friend and maid of honor and drive them to the family compound. It should‘ve been easypeasy, but no, his primos just had to tag along, which meant, it was FUBAR. Independently, his primos were ridiculous. Together, Cristóvão, Eustaquio, and Fabricio Roraima were idiocy run amok. They‘d had to stop for snacks and then they‘d had to stop to go to the restroom, which happened when one slammed back four bottles of soda. And one needed four bottles of soda when one downed three entire bags of Cheetos Requeijão Waves, as his primos were prone to do, being that was their favorite snack. Of course by then, Eustaquio had needed some pudding, and not just some pudding but what amounted to an entire vat of coconut pudding. It was a good thing Eustaquio participated so heavily in atletismo, otherwise he‘d be as big as a house. Looking over at his

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cousin, who stood six feet, nine inches and weighed around three hundred pounds, he amended his statement. Eustaquio would be larger than a house. He‘d always marveled that a man of Eustaquio‘s size could move so quickly. It also amazed him that none of his primos had been beaten to a pulp by an angry mob. Ah, as much as he loved them, they surely tested his patience. While they should‘ve been at the airport in plenty of time to meet Pac‘s friend, they‘d made it by the skin of their teeth, arriving at five p.m…ten minutes after the plane had arrived. He calculated it‘d take them at least fifteen minutes to get through customs and such. Apparently, fifteen minutes was all the time his cousins needed to start shit. They hadn‘t even been in the airport for two minutes when one of the airport de polícia warned them to settle down. The last thing Enéas needed was to have a confrontation with the Departamento de Polícia Federal. ―Desculpe, desculpe,‖ he‘d said to the officer. Giving his cousins the look he‘d grown up with his father and uncle giving him, he‘d assured the officer that his cousins would settle down. They‘d settled down…for all of two seconds. As

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soon as the officer‘s back was turned, his primos did what they did best (besides act the damn fool): they started sniffing after anything that looked remotely female. Enéas couldn‘t believe women fell for the shit his cousins spouted, but the evidence was there in front of him. Pulling out their tried and true ―I play sports‖ card and doing a great deal of flexing to go along with it, they had the women eating out of their hands. While his primos did play râguebi and andebol, they played women harder. Already, they‘d found a group of women to chat up and were busy exchanging numbers and promising things that were sure to end in some woman‘s pai standing at the ready to beat their asses. A lifetime of watching his primos in action made him vow to keep anything with a penis away from any filha he ever had. And also get her kung fu lessons so that if any man every came on to her like his primos came on to women, they‘d be unconscious before the last syllables left their lips. Scratch that—they‘d be unconscious before they even stepped to her, because he was going to have an army of filhos to guard his beautiful, virginal, Ph.D.-rocking, kung fu-expert baby girl.

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Watching as they engaged in a game of ―Let‘s see which of us can get a woman to slap us first,‖ Enéas shook his head. Managing not to get himself slapped despite his ridiculous behavior, Fabricio suddenly turned to him and spoke. Of course, as always, Fabricio didn‘t use his ―indoor‖ voice, because along with tact and good sense, he didn‘t possess such a thing. Seriously, it was hard to believe his primo had an advanced university degree and had scored in the firsts, being he acted as if he needed a handler. ―Enéas, look at her–‖ Enéas covered Fabricio‘s mouth and snarled at him. ―The next word out of your mouth better be ‗intelligence‘ or ‗shoes.‘‖ Expecting to hear a chorus of grumbles, all he heard was the deep sounds of male appreciation. Seeing his primos‘ línguas damn near hanging out of their mouths and their eyeballs practically doing the cartoon thing, he let Fabricio go and turned to look at what had them so riveted. And then he saw her. To describe her as linda would‘ve been a gross understatement. With pele the color of milk chocolate, luminous castanho eyes, and hips and ass which amounted to damn-damn-damnnnnnnnnnn, she was a walking fantasy. She was like Primavera and

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Verão all wrapped up into one…and that was her in a t-shirt, calças and ténis. He could only imagine what she‘d do for an evening gown…or nothing at all. Enéas didn‘t know who she was, but he knew who he hoped she‘d be: his. For some reason, she appeared to be praying. Wondering what was going on, he made his way forward. It took him a minute to realize that the other passengers weren‘t rushing to the exits but instead looking at the woman and her male companion. He hoped they weren‘t together, because it was going to go bad for the man if they were. ―What‘s going on?‖ he asked an older gentleman. ―We‘re taking bets on whether or not she‘s going to kill him. He‘s been difícil the entire flight. From what little bit we gleaned from the woman who was with her, he‘s been difícil since they boarded the plane in America.‖ ―Actually, according to her, that man had been difícil since his mãe gave birth to him,‖ the gentleman with him piped in. Enéas couldn‘t help but smile at that. ―Where‘s the other woman?‖ he asked.

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―She caught the first plane heading in the opposite direction once her irmã refused permission to kill him. Damn shame, because while she was a whole lot of woman, like her irmã, she was just as linda.‖ There were two of them? Enéas thought. Damn, the men in their family probably wore themselves out trying to keep males away from them. Enéas was pulled from his musings by a sultry voice. Before he could wonder why the beauty was singing, he caught the words coming out of her companion‘s mouth. Her excompanion‘s mouth, he amended when he made them out. That man was about to die, and from the look on her face, he was going to die soon if someone didn‘t stop her. Whatever the man said next must not have been wise, because her look turned positively murderous (and yet somehow Enéas was still turned on). Enraged at the thought of any man angering her, he went into action. He was across that floor in an instant, just in time to hear her threaten to bury that motherfucker under his own house. Yeah, he was definitely turned on. He couldn‘t have her committing murder, though, as that‘d throw a wrench in their

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courtship. Walking up, he tried to talk her down from murder. ―You really don‘t want to commit a murder before you see our beautiful country,‖ he said. ―It‘s really starting to look damn appealing,‖ she said in a voice better suited to screaming out his name rather than delivering death threats. ―I‘m really sick of his shit.‖ ―This is understandable, as I have only just met him and am already sick of this man also. Still, the beauty our country offers has to be more tempting than murdering that little man. As the poet Gonçalves Dias said, there are more stars in our sky, more flowers in our meadows, and more life in our woods.‖ ―What are you, like, the minister of tourism?‖ ―No, I‘m just a proud Brazilian who knows with certainty that our country is the most beautiful in the world.‖ Watching her smile was like watching the sun‘s reflection off of the beach. ―So linda,‖ he whispered softly. Whatever he was going to say next was cut off by her companion. ―She‘s with me.‖

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Not for long, he thought. Before he could get worked up by that statement, she set the blond straight. ―If we were the last two people on earth, we wouldn‘t be together, Yngvi.‖ ―Fine then. I guess I‘ll really enjoy my time in Brazil being I won‘t have to babysit you. You, on the other hand, will probably enjoy showing up to your friend‘s wedding alone. Then again, that‘s the kind of thing you do, being that you lack taste—in more ways than one.‖ ―I may not have all five of my senses, Yngvi, but the four I do have are all I need in order to be better than you. While I might not be able to identify food by taste, I know good and well how to serve up fresh, fried ass-whipping. And since we‘re going full disclosure here, let‘s get something straight, Yngvi. You aren‘t onesixteenth of the engineer that Roar is.‖ ―Ah, look at you, using fractions so early in the day.‖ Enéas had had enough. While she was handling herself just fine, she was through handling this pompous man. ―What is a mistake is for you to think you could speak to her at all, much less with that tone. Leave now…while you still can,‖ he said before turning to her. ―Come,

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gatinha. I shall escort you wherever it is that you need to go.” He didn‘t get to finish the rest of what he was saying before blondness was all in his face. ―Get away from her.‖ Whatever else had gone on between them, Enéas knew this man wasn‘t playing right now. He would fight for this woman…as he should. The truth was, so would he. Stepping up right in his face, he spoke. ―Make me.‖ ―Hey, hey,‖ Beautiful said as she squeezed herself between them. ―Come on. Let‘s just all calm down.‖ ―I don‘t like the way he‘s talking to you,‖ Enéas said. ―And I don‘t like you talking…at all,‖ the man returned. While it might‘ve been overlooked by her, the fact that neither he nor blondness looked away as they spoke to her was not lost on Enéas. ―Guys, please,‖ she said in a voice that was better suited to calling out his name. ―I will please you, if you but give me half of a chance,‖ Enéas said. ―And if you put your hands on her, you will be half the man you are,‖ her companion said. ―Yngvi, it‘s okay,‖ she said to blondness.

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―No, it‘s not. I will not have some strange man thinking that he has the right to touch you,‖ he said without taking his eyes off of him. Ah, so the blond had a little spark after all…not that it mattered, as Enéas was still going to whip his ass. ―Back off, Brazil. She‘s no man‘s plaything.‖ You’re damned right, he thought. ―We can go back and forth all day about who would win in a battle of will, intellect or power—me. I will not, however, dispute your observation about this woman.‖ ―Obviously, I‘m wasting my time, so I‘m going to go,‖ she said to them both before turning to her companion. ―Yngvi, I‘m going to look for our ride.‖ Turning to him, she continued. ―Thank you for your help, but as ridiculous, idiotic, and aggravating as Yngvi can be, he‘s not going to hurt me.‖ ―Damn right he‘s not,‖ he spat. She would‘ve reached out to him if blondness hadn‘t stayed her hand. ―You don‘t know where he‘s been.‖ ―I don‘t know where you‘ve been either,‖ she said as she shrugged him off. ―Look, we‘re in the middle of an airport. It‘s not like he‘s going to

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spirit me off. Come on, our party‘s probably already waiting for us.‖ Enéas was reluctant to let her go, but he couldn‘t very well hold her hostage. Pulling out his wallet, he extracted a business card. ―Call me if you feel the need to murder him. I‘m an attorney—a good one.‖ ―Thanks. Can I call even if I don‘t want to commit a capital crime?‖ ―Of course,‖ he purred. ―Come, apprentice. You don‘t know this man.‖ ―He just gave me his business card. I‘m sure if he was about to do something awful…‖ ―I would kill him,‖ the man continued. ―Let‘s get you to your hotel so you can find a bikini-clad woman with low self-esteem to mack on. I‘m a big girl, if I want to give,‖ she paused to read his business card, ―Mr. Enéas Roraima. Hey, wait. Are you Salomão‘s brother?‖ ―You know my irmão?‖ ―What woman on Tech‘s campus doesn‘t know Salomão Roraima? That man has been the catalyst for many a riot and many a woman‘s fantasies. I know, as I helped his fiancée beat the women off of him. I‘m her best friend and here for their wedding.‖

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―And I‘m here to pick you up…in more ways than one,‖ he said as he waggled his eyebrows. ―And become the man who‘s the catalyst for all of your fantasies.‖ Smiling, she stuck her hand out and introduced herself. ―Eshe Nada. Thanks in advance for the ride.‖ Silly, beautiful, beautiful woman thinking he was going to shake her hand. Taking her hand, he used it to pull her closer. Bending, he gently kissed her full lips. ―De nada.‖ ―Hands,‖ blondness said all aggravated. Of course Enéas ignored that. If she was as startled by the gentle kiss as he was, she didn‘t show it. ―You‘re my ride?‖ ―In more ways than one, if you wish it.‖ He smiled. Laughing, she hugged him. ―You‘re cute. Maybe if I wasn‘t so angry before I would‘ve noticed the similarities. You Roraima men have those distinctive eyes along with that ‗every woman‘s fantasy‘ look about you.‖ ―Obigrata,‖ he said, surprised at the easy compliment she‘d given him. ―Remember, she had a crush on me first,‖ asshole interjected. ―And she thinks your brother is hotter than you.‖

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―Yngvi, you‘re about to be so effing dead in two seconds if you do not shut up.‖ ―Yes, you are regardless of whether or not you shut up,‖ he agreed with her words even as he pulled her closer. She felt so good there. He couldn‘t help but wrap his arms around the beauty and pull her tighter against his peito. While he didn‘t ponder it, he couldn‘t help but notice that she fit so well in his arms. And she smelled deliciosa—like a mix of baunilha, maracujá, and pêssego. He felt her body stiffen a moment before relaxing into his. Something instinctively told him that the beauty before him did not allow many men such intimacies. As the blond had said, she wasn‘t the type of woman to let some man run game on her (as Pac called it). Luckily, he wasn‘t some man. Even better, he had no plans to run game. He did, however, have plans to wine and dine her. While he didn‘t know her, everything about her screamed that she was a first-class woman. Turning to his primos and the idiot who was her companion, he gave them all a look. It was one of possession and challenge. Despite them being fools, he knew they all understood it…even the blond, who returned his look.

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―Come,‖ he said. ―Let‘s get your luggage and get you away from him.‖ ―He‘s one of my bosses, so I can‘t exactly get away from him.‖ ―We could arrange for him to go missing,‖ Eustaquio piped up. Ah, this was the reason he hadn‘t killed his primo earlier. He came in handy once in a while. ―Sorry, but I have an office full of people who‘ve taken numbers for the chance to kill him. By the way, we switched our reservations. We‘re at Hotel—‖ ―Não,‖ he cut her off. There was no fucking way he was allowing this woman to stay in a hotel alone. Though beautiful, Recife was a tourist haven. The men would be all over her. ―What do you mean, ‗no‘?‖ she asked with fire. ―I paid good money for my room.‖ ―Is his room next to yours?‖ ―It‘s not even on the same floor as his, being that my sister made the reservations.‖ ―Smart woman, but não, I still will not be taking you there. I‘m taking you home to my mãe. Since you are the friend of Pacifica, you will stay with my família. We have plenty of room, and my Mãe and Avó would beat me if they knew

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that I‘d left you to the wolves, and my Pai and Tio would encourage them.‖ ―Isn‘t that a bit dramatic?‖ ―No. You‘ll see that once you arrive,‖ he said as he took her hand and led her away. ―As it is, they‘re going to have questions about why there‘s only one of you.‖ ―Because unlike myself, my sister knows when to get the hell out of Dodge.‖ ―Ah, you Americans and your Westerns.‖ ―Ah, you Brazilians and your carnivals, your cuisine, and your half-naked hot men.‖ ―That can be arranged.‖

***

Familiar with the ladies of Mid NFW telling any- and everyone under the sun off, Eshe had no doubt whatsoever that Enéas and his cousins were getting told off good and proper. Yngvi had already got told off good and proper, and once he‘d seen Pac and called his boss, he fled to his hotel to enjoy…probably all of Brazil. Meanwhile, the Roraima boys couldn‘t go anywhere. Their mommas and grandmomma were all in their

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faces, smacking their legs as they got them told. When their fathers entered the room, they got told off more. Thinking her presence was the cause of such ruckus, she‘d jumped into the fray and explained that she had a perfectly good room at one of the hotels in Recife, but all that‘d gotten her was shushed by his momma. ―Hush, minha filha. Stand there and continue to look linda while we sort this out.‖ Before she could get another word out, Enéas‘ mother called his father over. ―Take her, Dionísio. She might try and sneak off.‖ ―I‘m fully capable of taking care of myself,‖ she began. ―Ah, filha,‖ his father said before bending to kiss her forehead. ―Didn‘t my lovely esposa tell you to stand here and look beautiful?‖ ―Yes, but I have a hotel and I paid good money for it.‖ ―They will refund you.‖ ―How do you know?‖ ―Because, querida, my brother owns half of the high-end hotels in the city, and I own the rest.‖ ―Well, then you know it‘s a nice hotel and…‖ ―Sim, sim, but you are staying here with us,‖ he said as he cuddled her closer to him.

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―But I already have a hotel reservation and paid for it,‖ she said. ―Did you know you were going to be traveling with a stupid man?‖ Enéas‘ daddy asked. ―Honestly, not even I knew Yngvi was that stupid, Mr. Roraima, but my sister, being a paranoid conspiracy theorist who also harbors fantasies of doing something bad to Yngvi, made sure to book a room several floors away. Knowing her, my room is between a special forces operative and a nun or two.‖ ―A wise woman, your sister is,‖ he said. ―Yes, and if not for Pac‘s wedding, I would‘ve flown the coop with her.‖ Whatever else she might‘ve said was drowned out by the women having another go at the boys. ―How could you think to leave this precious baby alone at a hotel?‖ Enéas‘ mother asked. ―Full of drunken sailors?‖ his Aunt Jordana threw in. ―And pirates?‖ his momma added. Not to be outdone, his grandmomma got in on the action. ―And the Kraken.‖ WTF? The Kraken?

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―Avó, Mãe, Tia, we had no intentions of allowing her to go to the hotel. Notice, she is here.‖ ―Don‘t get smart,‖ his grandmomma said as she pointed her cane at him. Eshe wasn‘t sure why that old lady had that cane, because she sure as shit didn‘t need it to get around. That old lady was spry as hell. If there was a Kraken in the waters surrounding the hotel, if it knew what was best for it, it‘d keep its ass away from their grandmomma. Sighing at all the fuss that was being raised on her behalf, she wasn‘t prepared for Grandpa Roraima‘s words, as he‘d been silent during the whole fiasco. ―My boys were right to deny your request. Do you have any idea what would‘ve happened if we‘d found out they left you there?‖ ―With the drunken sailors, pirates, and mythological beasts?‖ she asked. ―Exactly. Would you have us storm the hotel and rescue you from the clutches of the armies of men who would try and get to you?‖ ―Um,‖ she said. ―No.‖ ―Good. I‘m an old man, and I have no wish to spend my days beating others, although for you I would.‖

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―Sir, I don‘t for one moment think you‘re anywhere close to the ‗old man‘ you‘re trying to pass yourself off as.‖ ―Ah, you make an old man smile with your compliments. If I was ten years younger and single…‖ Ten? The dude was like a hundred years old. Ten? ―Ten, sir?‖ ―Okay, maybe five. I might have a few gray hairs, but…‖ The man had all gray hair, and damn if it wasn‘t beautiful. ―I‘m a Brazilian man, and you know we Brazilians are the most passionate people in the world. Ask my esposa if you don‘t believe me. I still make her scream out my name each morning.‖ Wow, the people in this family were off the hook. ―Sir, regardless of if you were indeed five years younger, trust me, there‘s no way you‘d be single. Your wife still would‘ve found a way to lock you down.‖ She smiled. ―This is true.‖ He bent down and whispered to her. ―She thinks I‘m the best thing since sliced bread.‖

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Eshe couldn‘t help but laugh. Mr. Roraima was a first-rate charmer. ―Ah, I see she has her hands full with you.‖ ―Well of course. Now come, let my filho show you to a room so you can rest.‖ He said let his boy show her to a room, but she noticed that he didn‘t let go of her hand just as no one contradicted him. She didn‘t mind, though. Seeing the room he led her to, she couldn‘t help but gasp. It was straight out of a magazine. ―It‘s beautiful.‖ ―Well, a beautiful woman deserves to be surrounded by beautiful things. I‘d put you right next to me, but you wouldn‘t get any sleep with my wife screaming out my name.‖ ―I appreciate your thoughtfulness,‖ she said as she hugged him. ―That‘s because you‘re a boa, honesta filha. Now you lie down and rest.‖ Turning, he looked her in the eye. The mirth that had lit his eyes was now replaced with seriousness. Eshe knew that despite his age, Enéas‘ grandfather was no joke. Like his wife, he was sharp as a tack. ―And don‘t you worry none about my grandsons or anyone else bothering you. Nothing will happen to you. My filhos will see to it. You are safe here.‖

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―What my father says is true, minha filha,‖ Enéas‘ father chimed in. Eshe found herself blinking back tears at his thoughtfulness. She‘d spent all of her life daddyless. Having a houseful of men standing ready to defend her honor was a good feeling. ―Thank you,‖ she said as she hugged them both. Sitting on the bed, Eshe looked out at the spectacular view…and fell in love. She‘d teased Enéas about being the minister of tourism, but she could see why he was so passionate about his country. Brazil was indeed beautiful. As were the Roraima men…and it wasn‘t just how they looked on the outside, she thought as she lay across the massive bed and promptly fell asleep, blissfully unaware that the Roraimo family was hard at work planning out her life.

***

―I like her, Marido.‖ Dionísio smiled. Of course his esposa would like the beautiful, spirited woman. ―So do I, querida.‖

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―Then what are you going to do about it? It‘s about time Enéas settled down. Eshe would be the perfect nora.” ―I know, Lurdes. That‘s why Papa put her in a room next to Anacleto and Fabricio. Enéas won‘t be able to rest knowing she‘s so close to other males, even if those other males are his older brother and cousin. It‘s also why I suggested our filho and sobrinhos ‗cock block,‘ as you say.‖ ―You are so bad.‖ ―Yes, but you like it.‖ ―This is true.‖ ―Show me how much.‖ ―Sure you can handle it, old man?‖ ―Since I‘ve been handling it for three decades, I know so. The question is, do you think our soon-to-be daughter-in-law will wake from the screaming? We Roraima males are a lot of man to handle.‖

***

“I like her, Feliciano.‖

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He‘d been awaiting his wife‘s proclamation since the moment their filhos and sobrinhos got told off this afternoon. ―I suspected as much, Jordana.‖ ―And how did you suspect, being that I‘m the queen of subtlety and all, hmm?‖ Did she say subtlety? ―Ah, wife. You are indeed a queen of many things, first and foremost my heart, but the queen of subtlety…not so much.‖ ―I am too subtle. All of my colleagues say my designs show a remarkable subtlety.‖ ―Which is why I insisted that you open your own firm. Your colleagues are idiots. There is nothing subtle about your designs. They are bold and passionate like you,‖ he said as he gathered her in his arms. Dipping his head to sniff the intoxicating scent she wore, he whispered in her ear. ―You are about as subtle as Lurdes‘ sangrias and the Spanish Inquisition.‖ ―It‘s not too late for me to divorce you. After all, our filhos are grown and my sobrinho is one of the best attorneys in all of South America.‖ ―It became too late to divorce me the moment you said ‗I do,‘ and anyone attempting to interfere with that will find that I am not as

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unassuming as I appear,‖ he said as he took her mouth. ―Ha! Everything about you is assuming.‖ ―And you like it. Não?‖ he asked as he pulled her closer. ―Perhaps,‖ his linda esposa said. ―You do not sound convinced,‖ he said. ―I‘m still mad at you. You‘re ignoring my desires,‖ she pouted beautifully. ―And when have I ever ignored your desires?‖ ―Never until today.‖ ―And what is it that you desire…besides me?‖ he asked as he dipped his hand inside of her silk warmth. ―I have three filhos and no netas or netos to spoil.‖ ―Don‘t you want them to have esposas first?” ―Sim, but the two girls I‘d like are promised to my sobrinhos. If I didn‘t love Enéas so much, I‘d snatch that fiery Eshe for one of my own filhos.‖ ―Eshe does have an irmã, and from what Pac says, she‘s even more of a fireball than Eshe.‖ ―But she‘s who knows where because of that stupid boy Eshe wouldn‘t allow her to kill.‖

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Not able to hold back his mirth, he smiled into his wife‘s silky hair. Coaxing her onto her back, he covered her with his own body. ―I know exactly where she is. Further, I know where she‘s going.‖ ―And you know this how?‖ ―I am an extremely wealthy man. People tell me things.‖ ―And that benefits me and my empty arms, waiting for netas and netos, how?‖ ―I called our pilot and instructed our Cristóvão to go after her.‖ ―Ah. Does our filho know why you asked such a thing?‖ she asked as she arched up into him. ―He won‘t know a thing until he‘s at the altar waiting for her to agree to be his esposa.‖ ―What if she‘s difficult?‖ ―Of course she‘ll be difficult. Would it be fun otherwise?‖ ―It will be hard for our filho. Like all Roraima men, he‘s accustomed to women simply falling at his feet.‖ ―Sim, but like all Roraima women, she will lead him a merry chase. But in the end, the Roraima charm will triumph, and Esha Nada will

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have a Roraima on the end of her name just like her irmã…and just like you do.‖ ―I do love you, Marido.‖ ―Of course. I am well endowed, wealthy, an excellent lover,‖ he punctuated his words with strokes and kisses. ―And you love me more than any other man ever could,‖ his wife finished as she wove her talented fingers through his hair.

***

―I like these American girls, Primo. They have fire!‖ Filomena told her husband as they settled themselves. ―Me too, Coração.‖ ―And our little neto like them too. Now we just have to find four more like Pacifica and Eshe and sit back and watch them drive the neto crazy.‖ ―Enéas is already crazy. He just doesn‘t know it yet.‖ ―Ah, he knows it. His eyes did not leave her. And his face is full of storms when he sees any

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male walk in this direction. You know, just like you are over me.‖ ―That‘s because you‘re a flirt.‖ ―I‘m not a flirt. I‘m just really hot.‖ ―Sim, you are, which is why I stole you away from that boy you were going to marry,‖ he said as he pulled her into his arms. ―And why I‘d fight any man for you even now.‖ ―Like any other man could handle me.‖

***

Yngvi stepped from the shower and stumbled to the bed. Damn, he hated long flights. It wasn‘t just that the flight was long—he‘d had to spend it with Eshe and Esha. They were two women who were singularly unimpressed with him, thus he‘d made it his mission to mess with them. Okay, Eshe not so much, being that she was Njarðar‘s favorite employee. The shrill of the phone pulled him from his musings. ―What did you do to Esha?‖ Njarðar asked without preamble. ―As usual, I didn‘t allow her to kill me.‖

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―You‘re an asshole.‖ ―Yeah, I am, and yet you sent me anyway. If I had acted less like an asshole, Eshe and Esha would‘ve suspected me, and if they‘d suspected that the sole reason I came to Brazil was to play nursemaid to them, you‘d have an office full of angry sisters ready to quit.‖ ―Yeah, but what I have now is one angry sister, who in case you missed it is loved beyond measure by Eshe.‖ ―Look, Esha‘s the unknown unknown. I had no idea she‘d up and catch the next flight to anywhere, but at least your precious little apprentice is safe.‖ ―She‘d better be. Get some rest, because as soon as I locate Esha, you‘re going after her…and you‘re apologizing.‖ ―No can do. It‘s in the Code.‖ ―What fucking code, Yngvi?‖ Njarðar yelled into the phone. Being that Njarðar rarely raised his voice, Yngvi couldn‘t help but smile. Getting a rise out of his partner was almost as fun as getting a rise out of Esha. ―It‘s a hot, single man thing. You wouldn‘t understand,‖ he said before hanging up the phone.

CHAPTER THREE It didn‘t take Enéas long to realize that he didn‘t appreciate Eshe being anywhere that was out of his reach. While he liked the thought of her being in the house with him, he didn‘t like the fact that his avô had led Eshe away from him. Nor did he appreciate the fact that she was sharing the same wing of the house with…men. It didn‘t matter that the men in question were his irmão and primos. All of them were flirts, and more egregious, each of them had a penis. It wouldn‘t do at all to have all of them anywhere near Eshe. The only penis that was going to be near her was his. His decision made, he made his way to the other wing. Or that was his intention until he caught a look from his pais…and avós…and tia…and tio. ―You let her rest,‖ his mãe commanded. Yes, ―commanded,‖ as his mãe wasn‘t the type of woman to ―suggest‖ things…ever. He did consider that she‘d be tired after spending about twelve hours in the air and the hour time difference, and so he was patient. The hours ticked by. What he thought would be a two

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hour nap turned into her missing ceia and the rest of the day. It‘d been hours. Enéas was so not in the mood, and anyone looking at him would‘ve known that. He was tired. He was pissed—real pissed. Anyone looking at the grimace on his face and the fire in his blue-green eyes would‘ve seen the warning and stayed back…but of course the Roraima men weren‘t anyone else. Thus, when he‘d decided he‘d had enough, he made his way to the wing that held his Eshe…and ran into the brick wall of his two youngest primos and his oldest irmão. For a second, he stopped and cursed the potency of his mãe‘s sangrias. If not for their ―knock an army on their ass‖ strength, his irmão and primos (and for that matter him if he‘d indulged) could‘ve made their way to their own homes, which were all of two minutes away. But his mãe‘s sangrias were legendary, thus the entirety of his família was in residence. Despite loving his family, it was the family blocking his path that he was cross with. His irmão and primos didn‘t speak, but they may as well have had a sign above their heads that said: ―Bring it.‖ He didn‘t hesitate: he brought it. Without thought he laid into each of them, not giving a damn that there were three of them, all standing

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at least six foot five and weighing two hundred twenty-five pounds. The only thing he cared about was the fact that they were stopping him from getting to Eshe. Enéas didn‘t remember how long they fought. He didn‘t feel the punches and kicks he‘d taken or feel fatigue from the punches he‘d thrown. The only thing he felt was determination. A half hour later, when he and his cousins had punched and cussed themselves out, he pulled himself to his feet and was promptly tripped back to the floor by Eustaquio. ―It‘s not considered polite to drool over your sister-in-law‘s best friend.‖ ―It‘s also not polite to get killed by your primo,‖ he said as he kicked his primo in the ribs and made his way to Eshe. Rounding the corner, he came face-to-face with cock-blocking of the highest order: his avós. Of course, they were so busy making out in front of Eshe‘s door, it‘d be easy to slip around them. He was tempted, but he wasn‘t stupid. His avô might play at being a gentleman, but it was all play. Descended directly from the Pemon Indians of Amazonas, Primo Roraima was nobody‘s pushover. And even if he was, his avó had that cane…with the knife in the tip.

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Before he could decide if he should risk looking over at his avós, they stopped making out long enough to glare at him. ―What do you want, neto?‖ ―I want you to know that if you weren‘t married to my avó, I‘d make you marry her after that little display.‖ ―There is nothing little about my display, neto. As the young males say, ‗I‘m packing. Ask your avó.‘‖ ―Can‘t. I‘m looking for someplace to throw up.‖ ―You want to tell us what you‘re doing by this door?‖ ―I‘m…‖ They said nothing. They simply stared him down. ―I want to talk to Eshe.‖ ―Oh, is that what they call it these days— ‗talking‘? I believe Primo and I made dois filhos from all that ‗talking‘ we did,‖ his avó bragged. Enéas felt his face flush. ―Eshe‘s not that kind of woman.‖ ―We know, which is why we‘re out here because from the looks you were giving her, you‘d be that kind of man. Now go. We have things under control here.‖

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Enéas did not like the feeling of being dismissed, even if it was by his own avós. If anyone else had attempted such a thing, his response would be swift. His avós weren‘t anyone else, however. He might be an educated, wealthy male in his own right, but he‘d never been disrespectful to his avós. Cheeky, on occasion; disrespectful, never. It just wasn‘t done in his family. He wasn‘t about to start disrespecting them either, but Eshe was his. ―Eshe is…‖ he began. ―What?‖ they asked. ―Mine.‖ ―I thought so, but before you go in that room, you‘d better be damn sure of that. You treat her anything less than a lady, neto, and I won‘t treat you anything like my neto. Você me entende?‖ ―Sim, avô,‖ Enéas said. He wasn‘t even going to ask why they protected Eshe. It was what the men of his family did. For all of the machismo, they were always gentle with their women…except in bed…after their women begged them to take them harder. ―You get a ring for her tomorrow or you will be beaten out of her bed,‖ his avó warned. A talheiro, his grandmother knew how to handle a

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knife…and get rid of a body. A smart woman, she also knew how not to get caught.

***

Slipping into the room and turning the light on its lowest setting, Enéas quietly closed the door behind him and released the breath he‘d been holding. Eshe lay across the bed looking as beautiful as ever…and as like his as ever. How his irmão Salomão had held back six years to claim Pacifica, he didn‘t know. Enéas only knew that he could not hold back one more minute. Eshe Nada was his in every way. Walking over to the bed, he stopped and simply drank in her beauty. Concerned for her comfort, he bent and gently removed her shoes. She awoke immediately. ―Enéas?‖ ―Sim, Eshe.‖ ―What?‖ she began only to gasp. ―What happened?‖ she asked as she reached out and touched his bruised face. ―My primo…and irmão.‖

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―They beat you up. Oh fuck that. Let‘s go kick their asses,‖ she said as she jumped from the bed. ―Four against one isn‘t fair. Or was it five? Is Salacious here and did he jump in? I‘m telling Pac.‖ If she wasn‘t so sincere, he would‘ve laughed at her concern, but she was sincere and despite being tired, she was ready to do battle on his part. ―It was only three against one, since my irmão won‘t give Pac a chance to breathe and Cristóvão left earlier to attend some business for his pai.‖ ―Good, then neither Salomão nor Cristóvão will spend next week peeing blood.‖ Enéas couldn‘t help the smile that settled over his face. ―They didn‘t beat me up, Eshe. We simply fought.‖ ―Why?‖ ―We were all making ourselves clear.‖ ―And you couldn‘t do it in a less painful way?‖ ―No one has ever accused any of us of being Geneva.‖ ―You look like hell,‖ she said as she continued to touch his face and peito. ―Come on, let‘s get you cleaned up.‖

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He would‘ve interrupted, but he rather liked the way Eshe took charge of him. With a docility that he didn‘t usually demonstrate in his professional career as an advogado, or his personal life as a Roraima male, he allowed her to lead him to the adjoining bathroom. With physician-like attention, she stripped off his tshirt and looked him over for injury. Everywhere he was injured she soothed with her touch…and dabbed with alcohol. What was it with black women and rubbing alcohol? he wondered as he did his best not to flinch from the stings. Pac used that stuff like Catholics used holy water. A sharp cuss from her caused him to smile. From the words that dropped from the linda Eshe‘s boca, he knew she didn‘t much care for the bruising on his face, and from the cusses she muttered, he knew his primos and irmão were going to get an earful. Good—they deserved it for delaying his getting to her. Watching her go about setting up the shower, he knew she‘d had practice being a caretaker. He was about to protest, when Eshe tossed out a demand before starting the shower. ―Get undressed.‖ Despite his recent fight, he wasn‘t sujo. And despite being a man accustomed to giving orders

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rather than receiving them, he found himself chucking his ténis and calças de ganga. How could he not want to get naked in front of this woman? He wasn‘t arrogant, but he knew his body pleased women. More than anything, he wanted to please this woman—this woman who wasn‘t paying his nakedness a bit of attention. When he said she wasn‘t paying him any attention, he wasn‘t using hyperbole. Not even sparing him a glance, Eshe grabbed a handful of his cabelo, twisted it into an elastic band, and covered it with a shower cap. Pressing a bottle of coconut-scented sabão into his hand, she tossed him in the shower. When he didn‘t move fast enough for her, she let out a sound of disgust. Covering her own hair with one of the shower caps, she stripped down to her soutien and panties and joined him in the shower. Instead of taking a moment to ogle him (as he did her) or feel him up, she scrubbed him down with ruthless don‘t-give-a-damn, focusing solely on her task of getting him clean. If he hadn‘t known before, he knew then. In addition to being his woman, Eshe Nada was a woman accustomed to taking charge. Enéas couldn‘t help but like this side of her (and all the other sides of his voluptuous woman)…and

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wonder if she‘d take charge in bed also. Well, that is, until he took control back from her. ―How come I‘m completely naked and you‘re only getting there?‖ he asked when she pushed him out of the roomy shower and vigorously dried herself before drying him off. ―Because you‘re the one who‘s all jacked up. Now be quiet,‖ she said as she tucked the towel around his cintura and pushed him against the cool granite counter. He sat patiently while she applied her feminine desodorizante under his arms and rubbed cocoa butter on any place that bore witness to his fight. Pulling off his shower cap, she brushed his hair out before fashioning it into a single thick braid. While he appreciated her care, he had to steel himself to be still and accept it rather than drag her to him and devour her…all night long. His thoughts were interrupted by her jerking him off the counter and leading him back to the bedroom. Five minutes later, he was tucked into her bed while she went back to the bathroom. He wasn‘t sure exactly what she was doing in there, but it took her long enough to do it. When she finally re-entered the bedroom, half an hour had passed. In that time, he‘d thought of

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a hundred different ways to make her scream out his name—loudly, passionately, repeatedly. When she slid into bed, he expected her to hug the far side of the bed, but he‘d underestimated his Eshe. Thinking him asleep, she readjusted the covers up higher around him. Dropping a kiss on his cheek, she whispered a soft ―good night‖ before wrapping her arms around him and going to sleep. Enéas couldn‘t help but be touched at the protective gesture, knowing she‘d probably done it countless times before. He also couldn‘t help but smile at the irony of this woman protecting him. Waiting for her to fall asleep, he switched their positions and gathered her to him. Taking her much smaller mão in his, he focused in on the third finger. He smiled imagining his ring sitting there, proclaiming her as his. Before he gave in to sleep, he whispered a promise to her. ―Forever, Eshe. Mine to love, protect, and make happy forever.‖

CHAPTER FOUR As soon as Enéas was asleep, Eshe opened her eyes. It‘d taken everything she had not to react to the words he‘d whispered to her. True, she had no idea of what he‘d said, but she knew that those words would be ones she‘d appreciate and come to treasure. This was why she‘d taken the time to memorize it. Later, she‘d get Pac to translate it for her. Like always, she smiled upon thinking of Pac. She owed the spunky woman so damn much. Closing her eyes, her mind traveled back to the one place she tried to avoid—the past. Before going to college, her life had been spent fluctuating between the two worst ghettos in Atlanta to the unpaved roads of rural North Georgia. She couldn‘t call which she‘d hated more, because they‘d both been montages of emptiness, pain, and heartbreak. The emptiness was from the lack of any real care from the adults who should‘ve watched over and cared for them. The pain had been from the experience of living like a dog. The heartbreak had come from having to watch the pain on Esha‘s face when she saw families doing family stuff like sitting down to

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dinner together instead of playing lookout while she rummaged in trash cans for anything that would help them salvage an existence. Most of their clothes had come out of the fifty-cent bin at the thrift shops. Because both she and Esha were big in the hips and ass, they‘d grown up wearing clothes designed for males. It was boys‘ husky size when they were younger; it was men‘s big and tall when they were older. They didn‘t need the tall so much as they needed the big. Many of their meals had come from the trash bins. She‘d resented having to rummage through the dumpsters of food companies and grocery stores and retrieving the food they‘d thrown out. As hurtful to her pride as it was, she‘d resented going hungry even more. There was no dent to her pride that she wouldn‘t take if it meant that Esha wouldn‘t have to suffer such an indignity. While outside was bad, inside their home was just as bad. They‘d grown up sharing a single pillow and a twin bed. Many would scoff at sharing a pillow and a bed, but considering the times they‘d shared a floor and huddled up under newspaper for warmth, neither of them had the luxury of complaining about having an actual bed.

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If she‘d been alone it wouldn‘t have hurt her so bad, but she hadn‘t been alone. She‘d had Esha. While she‘d loved having a sister— especially since Esha was that sister—it‘d broken her to see want on Esha‘s face. Like herself, Esha didn‘t want the world, she simply wanted a place in it. All they both wanted was a place where they weren‘t looked at with pity because of their lack of…everything. All they dreamed of was the day they didn‘t have to fear every knock at the door. Despite having to worry about the things girls who had no daddy to defend them worried about, they feared most the good intentions of people. Every knock on the door had them worried that the state would come in and give them shelter and food, but take away the thing they loved the most: each other. Even amidst the crime, the drugs, and the rodents that plagued urban areas, the anonymity of the city allowed them to breathe deeper. They were simply two faces in the army of the poor. The country, which was cleaner and roomier, proved to have its own set of problems. In a county that was over ninety-nine percent white, their black faces stuck out. She‘d never been called out of her name so much as when she‘d lived in rural Georgia. It didn‘t matter that she‘d

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been young; she‘d been old enough to understand that her blackness made her inferior and her gender made her vulnerable. She‘d learned the first of many bitter lessons. She‘d learned to blend into the background, to scurry unseen, to present no threat to anyone, and to pull back the hammer on a colt. She‘d learned to bind her breasts and wear a unitard under her two pairs of pants…one that fit and the other so baggy as to make her shapeless. She‘d learned to shuck and jive so damn good…to thank every white person she came across for her success. She‘d learned to worship the god that rewarded them for their miserliness and meanness, sing their praises, and let them think she aspired to nothing. And she‘d learned to hate every moment of it. She‘d choked on the pretense more than she‘d choked on the dust of those gravel roads. The bitterest thing of all was the fact that she‘d had to teach Esha to do the same damn thing…to shuck and jive, to stay in place, to fear being female. Some days, she wondered how it was neither of them had come to hate being black. Life had taken so much from them. It‘d taken big things such as their childhoods. It‘d taken small things such as her sense of taste. The

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smell of the dumpsters she‘d rummaged in had haunted her so that to this day, Eshe couldn‘t tolerate bad smells. While her sense of smell had remained intact, her sense of taste had fallen by the wayside. Most food had the same taste as water. It was a small price to pay for survival, though. Having no family to have their back, and no one looking out for their future, they‘d both thrown themselves into their schoolwork. She‘d graduated high school at sixteen and gotten a full ride to Georgia Tech. Though she was all set to defer a year so that Esha‘d be a senior, Esha all but packed her shit and tossed her out. Not about to leave Esha anywhere, she grabbed her up and took her with her. She never looked back. Of course there was nothing to look back to. Their grandma had long passed, and she couldn‘t remember the last time she‘d seen their momma. Neither of them had ever seen their daddy. If her and Esha had looked a thing like their momma and hadn‘t been the spitting images of each other, she would‘ve wondered if the man existed. Georgia Tech had been their new beginning. Assigned a roommate, she‘d planned on passing off Esha as herself if she had to so that Esha would have shelter and access to her food card.

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She‘d sleep wherever she could (even if it meant on the streets), but she hadn‘t had to worry about it because God had seen fit to give her Pacifica Hampton as a roommate. Coming in and seeing them huddled in their twin bed, Pac had simply dragged in an extra bed and spent the weekend making their double room an illegal triple room. With some savvy rearranging, Pac had made space for Esha. She‘d even found a school for Esha that wasn‘t about asking a whole lot of questions about their nonexistent address. Seeing her give Esha her meal card, Pac had taken to going with Esha and instead of them both eating in the student cafeteria, they both got their meals to go. Together, they got enough food to make a decent meal for the three of them. On weekends, while Eshe was doing work study in the library, Pac took Esha to the games and Sunday dinner at her Aunt Sudana‘s house. Pac and Esha would come back loaded down with more food than could fit in their two fridges. Not once did Pac bemoan the fact that their room was crowded or that she had to give up space for Esha. Careful to include Esha in everything they did, Pac never came close to treating Esha like she didn‘t belong. On mornings when Eshe had an early class or evenings she had a late work study

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shift, it was Pac who walked Esha to the spot where the Ninja Nun Academy SUV waited to pick her up. Obviously of means, Pac could‘ve parceled out charity that was painless and superficial, but instead she‘d parceled out kindness that was evident and help that allowed them to accept charity without feeling like beggars. She‘d planned to rush through Tech, but Esha had told her not to…and Pac had backed her up. ―We can breathe, Eshe,‖ her sister had said. ―If it gets too hot, I can stay at the Academy...Sister Domeka said so and the rest of the nuns agreed. While I appreciate their offer, we‘re like Naomi and Ruth, athletes and groupies, stink and shit—you couldn‘t get me off if you tried. Though the nuns work me like a field slave in the classroom, I‘m not going to rush through it. I don‘t want you to rush through undergrad because we don‘t have to run away from anything now. All we have to do is run to stuff.‖ After Esha‘s ―getting her told‖ moment, she‘d stopped taking twenty-one hours a semester…and she discovered that while she enjoyed the challenge of her engineering classes, she wanted to have a little fun with her studies.

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Thus, she added a second major in History, Technology and Society, as it allowed more free electives than any other major at Tech. She‘d graduated in four years instead of two, but it‘d been a good thing indeed. Slowing down had given her time to investigate other opportunities besides working herself to death as fast as she could. While she‘d slowed down, she hadn‘t lost any of her drive. Her stellar grades and her ambition had caught the eye of many of her professors, one of whom encouraged her to apply for an internship at one of the best engineering firms anywhere—Sons Engineering. Now that had been an experience. It was work, work, work and then more work. She‘d been pushed further than she‘d ever been and then pushed some more before finally being pushed further than she‘d ever imagined she could go. Not accustomed to that kind of workload, many interns didn‘t cut it. With Esha and Pac as her personal cheerleaders, she‘d survived corporate engineering trial by fire. Impressed with the way she‘d carried herself, Dr. Njarðar Valdason himself had promised her a job after the end of her first internship. ―But I‘m a newb,‖ she‘d said, a bit in awe that Dr. Valdason actually spoke.

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―Yes, but you‘re hardworking and brilliant. I see a lot of myself in you.‖ ―So I can hope to one day have a smoking hot brilliant woman as a wife and all of Atlanta praising my engineering prowess?‖ she‘d joked. ―There‘s only one Isoke, and she‘s mine.‖ He‘d winked before returning to his usual seriousness. ―I‘m not particularly good with people, Eshe. I‘m not cool or sociable, but I‘d like you to consider staying on with Sons Engineering. I‘ve already called the dean of your school and let her know that I‘d like to serve as your preceptor if you‘ll have me.‖ Eshe was sure her jaw had hit the floor. Was he freaking kidding? Who the hell would turn down having the brilliant Njarðar Valdason as their preceptor? Before she could pull it back, her inner geek slipped out. ―Can I call you Obi-Wan?‖ ―Don‘t you already?‖ ―You heard that?‖ ―Yes, and I was flattered. Of course I‘d expect nothing less from an individual who aspires to build a working light sabre, have the Enterprise as her secondary means of transportation, and marry the primary character from God of War.‖

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Remembering her responses during group exercise, she‘d felt her cheeks heat. ―Everyone laughed at me.‖ ―But you didn‘t take it back. I couldn‘t help but admire that, especially when I know you meant it…and believe you could actually create it.‖ ―Wow.‖ I mean really, what more could one say to that? Apparently, she wasn‘t meant to say more, because Dr. Valdason continued. ―With your permission, we‘ll come up with a schedule that leaves you plenty of time for your classes. Of course, that means you won‘t be able to continue with work study, but I promise I pay better.‖ And that‘d been the beginning of a beautiful apprenticeship. For ten hours each week during the school year, she and Dr. Valdason worked math and physics and bent it to their will…and sometimes they played God of War. Her summer internships were more of the same, except they played different video games. When she‘d graduated, he‘d written a check and sent her right back to Tech to work on her master‘s, and when she‘d finished her MS in Human and Computer Interaction, not only was a permanent job at Sons Engineering waiting for her (and Esha too if she

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so chose), so was a two-bedroom townhouse complete with one year paid lease and Rina Dodge, her self-proclaimed best friend, zombiehater, and sometimes neighbor, who defied almost all reasonable explanations. ―We‘re going to do great things together, Eshe,‖ Dr. Valdason had proclaimed. She‘d believed him, and so far, they had. Together, they‘d filed over ten new patents. As if working under his leadership wasn‘t enough, she also got to work with her sister, as Dr. Valdason had snapped up Esha once he‘d discovered she was in the engineering program at Tech. While he‘d offered Esha a permanent job, Esha had decided to keep her options open, thus delaying Dr. Valdason‘s attempt to corner the market on engineers with the last name Nada. While she herself spent most of her free time working on engineering feats, Esha had been hard at work on her studies. Having been schooled by the Ninja Nuns, she‘d entered Tech as a junior and graduated in the same class as her and Pac. It‘d been a beautiful thing to graduate with her sister and best friend—a beautiful thing indeed. As Pac had often said, their combined hotness and brilliance made the College of Engineering look damn good. Looking at the

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photo of the three of them rocking their honors cords, it was hard to disagree with that. All three of them had pursued master‘s degrees. Pac had done her master‘s at Savannah College of Art and Design, while Esha had earned a double master‘s degree with a sister university in Italy (courtesy of Dr. Valdason), which required her to live in Torino for a year. While Esha had got a chance to test out her newlyacquired Italian skills, Eshe had teased her sister that her hips testified that she‘d tested out all manner of Italian food. Instead of being offended, Esha merely smoothed her hands over her ample hips and did a little shimmy. Currently, she was deciding whether to pursue a doctorate or do something scandalous like engage in a torrid affair with a hot alpha-type male and then break his heart. Knowing her sister, Eshe knew that Esha was only half kidding. She wasn‘t the type to break hearts (kneecaps maybe, but not hearts), but she could see Esha engaging in a torrid affair. Esha had swag like that. Eshe couldn‘t have been happier. They had choices—real choices, not just a pick between worst-case scenarios. And right now, thanks to the determined Salacious who‘d finally snapped Pac up, she was in Brazil to witness the nuptials.

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Of course, it hadn‘t been her plan to be in the beautiful Brazil sans boyfriend, but being she was also sans give-a-damn-about-him, it didn‘t matter. How could anything about Yngvi matter when she was lying in the arms of Enéas Roraima? Not trusting men, she‘d never lain in the arms of any man. Sure, she‘d been intimate with a few, but she‘d never spent any time simply being held by a man. She sure as shit had never risked falling asleep with a man in her bed. As good as it felt, Eshe had to admit that she was scared shitless. She knew how to handle being thought of as nothing; she knew how to handle being taunted; she knew how to handle racism, sexism, and classism. She had no idea how to handle a man like Enéas…and she had no idea how to stop her heart from wanting to go to bed every night in his bed and wake up every morning covered in his scent. It‘d taken everything she had not to push him against the walls of the shower and have her way with him—several times. She‘d had to remind herself that she was in his parents‘ home and that it would be rude to ride their son‘s face off. That hadn‘t worked worth a damn, so she‘d had to find some other reason why she shouldn‘t love him into a coma. Her background had given

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her a moment‘s pause before her mind told it to shut up and reminded her of who she‘d always been even beneath the poverty. With nothing to stop her from mauling the man, she focused on his injuries. Only the thought of him being in pain saved him from getting a full dose of Southern pussy. When she‘d tucked him into her bed, she‘d gone back into the shower and spent ten minutes masturbating over the hot Enéas. Thoughts of what she‘d do to him had her coming so hard, her legs had buckled. If the fantasy of what he could do affected her like that, she could only wonder what the real thing would do to her. Tired, she went to sleep with a smile on her face.

CHAPTER FIVE Enéas knew before opening his eyes that it wasn‘t even close to morning yet. A glance at the bedside clock revealed that it was only a little over an hour since he‘d laid down. Normally a sound sleeper, he wondered what had woken him…and then Eshe moved closer against him. His hard cock was the cause of his sudden wakefulness. His arms full of his future bride, the last thing he wanted to do was get out of bed, so he didn‘t. Sighing, he buried his nose in that area between her neck and shoulder before trailing his tongue over the warm, silky skin. She smelled good, she felt better, and when she moaned and arched into his caress, he knew he was going to fuck her. Working off her camisole, he filled his palms with her breasts. Pinching the nipples, he couldn‘t help but groan at the feel and smile upon hearing Eshe‘s gasp. He loved that she was so responsive to him. Finding the lobe of her ear with his tongue, he gently bit down. ―Eshe,‖ he breathed as he coaxed her over onto her back. Sliding the covers off before finally kicking them to the floor, he slid her boy shorts off of her

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generous hips. Immediately, he was assailed by her womanly scent. Bending his six and a half feet, he spread her legs. ―Eshe,‖ he breathed her name a moment before he dipped his tongue into her heat. The moment his tongue touched her sex, her body took notice and responded appropriately: it opened to him and welcomed him home. Eshe‘s gasp alerted him to the exact moment that she awoke. Instead of backing off, he sucked her clit into his mouth and teased it with the tip of his tongue. ―Enéas,‖ she purred. Enéas couldn‘t help but savor the needy way she said his name. He wanted to hear the many other ways he could get her to say it before dawn broke. ―Sim, my love,‖ he responded as he rose from between her thighs. ―So good,‖ she said as she reached for him. ―Always,‖ he said as he looked down at the beauty lying beneath him. Ideally, he should wait until their wedding night to consummate their relationship, but he knew that he could not. Not with her reaching out to him, not with her opening herself to him, not with the soft entreaties pouring from her lips like sonatas.

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―Eshe,‖ he whispered her name in the same way he said grace: like he meant it. And just as he gave thanksgiving for every meal, he gave thanksgiving for this woman…for everything in the universe that had worked together to bring her safely to him. Lying next to her, he gathered her in his arms. Entangling his hands with hers, he took his time tasting her. He drank in the sounds of her pleasure, but instead of quenching his thirst, her taste amplified it. While he treasured every touch, he was reminded that he‘d spent nearly thirty years without her. Until that moment, he hadn‘t realized how everything he‘d done in his life had led up to this moment…had prepared him for this woman. Now that he had Eshe, he knew he‘d never give her up. The universe had brought her to him, and he intended to keep her. Traversing the topography of her body with his lips, he breathed prayers of thanksgiving upon her silky skin. Not flawless, but nonetheless beautiful, he savored the feel of her deep brown silk. Inhaling, he breathed this woman into himself and couldn‘t help but think of the way the Creator breathed life into man. Drawing his tongue over her skin, he tasted her, indulging in the feast that was laid before him.

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―Eshe,‖ he moaned in between tastes. ―Eshe,‖ he moaned simply because her name felt so right in his mouth. ―Enéas,‖ she responded with raw desire. He‘d never wanted a woman so much. He‘d never wanted a woman to want him so much. Looking into her eyes, he paused and got lost in all of the possibilities. Lining his cock up with her heat, he whispered her name. ―Eshe,‖ he rasped as he slid into her. ―Eshe,‖ he groaned as he felt her body grip him so good. ―Perfect,‖ he praised as he slowly rocked in and out of her. ―Forever,‖ he proclaimed as he loved them both to crescendo before finally loving them both over the edge. ―Best thing ever,‖ he confessed when they landed.

***

Accustomed to sleeping with one eye open, Eshe was surprised that she hadn‘t woken the second Enéas moved from his side of the bed. But she didn‘t wake until he‘d worked off her clothes and helped himself to her breasts. That sort of liberty with her person normally would‘ve

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offended her, but nothing within her came close to objecting to this man—on any level. After spending so much of her life afraid, Eshe hadn‘t felt one moment of fear in his presence. She was not afraid of Enéas…or what he made her feel. The hot, delicious Brazilian made her feel so many things. Chief among them was that waking up with six and a half feet of hot Brazilian between her thighs was one of those pleasures in life that should be experienced often. Eshe didn‘t know how Enéas went about other things, but from the way he went about loving her, she knew he was successful at all he did. Anticipation of his touch caused her to open every part of herself wider. Pleasure detonated every place that he touched her…every place including her soul. He made her feel so good. He made her feel so wanted. He made her feel…period. Holding on tight, she allowed Enéas to take them wherever he would, knowing that the journey would be the most sensual adventure. For the first time ever, she understood becoming lost in a person, but being that he was the person she was becoming lost in, she didn‘t mind…especially when it was clear that he was just as lost in her. Pulling him nearer, she touched him back. Tracing the muscles and ridges of his body, she

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told him ―thank you‖ with her fingers. Catching his words of praise with her lips, she held them in her mouth for a moment, extracting every bit of pleasure before allowing them to seep into her. While she couldn‘t distinguish flavor, not even her lack of a sense of taste prevented her from tasting Enéas‘ goodness. He brought her pleasure with his body, but it was the pleasure of his words that made her tremble. It was the truth in his eyes that caused her to fall. His eyes promised her everything. Those promises were backed up by his character. Everything about him let her know that she‘d be safe wherever he took her.

CHAPTER SIX There were a few things Eshe regretted having done in her life; making love with Enéas wasn‘t one of them. Lying in the shelter of his arms watching the sun come up, she replayed all of the delicious things he‘d done to her…at her encouragement. After that, she replayed all of the delicious things she‘d done to him. A reserved woman in both temperament and action, she‘d abandoned her usual restraint. Having only experienced intimacy in the dark—even when it was just herself and her vibrator—she‘d asked him to turn on the light, as she didn‘t want to miss a thing. Knowing she was going to give him all of herself, for the first time, she revealed her whole, true, flawed self. Heedless of her big hips and ass, the stretch marks here and there, she lay before him and wordlessly invited him to look his fill. Instead of being apologetic of her imperfections or feeling shame at who she was and what she‘d done to survive, she felt liberated. Witnessing the passion flare in his eyes, for the first time she felt beautiful—not that ―virtually impossible to attain in real life without cosmetics or surgery‖ beautiful, but truly ―this motherfucker

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would set it off over her‖ beautiful. Enéas looked at her like his granddaddy looked at his grandmomma; like his daddy looked at his momma; like his uncle looked at his aunt; and like Esha looked at families. He looked at her like she was everything he‘d ever wanted and all he‘d ever need. Heedless of who‘d heard her carnal demands or keens of pure ecstasy, she‘d made love with Enéas like it was the last thing she‘d ever do. And damn if she hadn‘t enjoyed herself. She‘d done things with him she‘d never dreamed she‘d do with any man. Instead of making her feel like a slut, the passion she saw in Enéas‘ face and the reverence she felt in his touch made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world…like the only woman in the world…like they were the only two people in the world. He was her Adam, she was his Eve, that bedroom was their Garden…and there would be no Fall. Perhaps she should‘ve felt bad for freaking Enéas in his parents‘ home with his entire family in residence, but he made her feel too good to care. Maybe when she woke from her muchneeded sleep, she‘d feel a tad bad. Maybe, time would prove this was a mistake, but she knew in her heart, she‘d never feel guilty or ashamed.

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This night was hers…and whatever came, she‘d handle it, but she‘d always, always, always treasure what she and Enéas had shared. Perhaps if she knew what the day would bring, she‘d have thought differently. Then again, as imaginative as she was, she probably couldn‘t have stretched her imagination that far. If she hadn‘t been lulled to sleep by the steady thrum of Enéas‘ heart and her own contented sighs, she might‘ve heard the score from Jaws playing in the background.

***

Normally, Enéas could shower and shave in under twenty minutes, but even forgoing his shave, his shower took almost forty-five minutes. He blamed Eshe. How was he expected to focus on getting clean when she stood before him looking so damn tempting? How was he expected to be in the presence of his queen and fail to kneel before her and pay homage to her beauty and courage and strength? How could he, as a Roraima male, fail to open the morning without gifting her with her pleasure? How could he, as

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her man, let her go out into the world without his scent all over her? Roraima law decreed that he couldn‘t fall short of his expectations, which was the reason he‘d traversed her body with his tongue before lifting her onto his cock and wringing several orgasms from her delicious body. It was the reason dressing was so slow, because he‘d felt the need to hold her in his arms and watch her body respond to his touch. He reveled at the way her nipples instantly hardened. He treasured the instant flow of honey between her thighs when he delicately caressed the pink of her sex. He was humbled by the way her breath caught when he neared. About to step out of the door, he looked her over once more. Eshe was most linda even wearing a simple v-neck t-shirt, faded calças de ganga, and sandálias. She was perfectly composed, and he simply couldn‘t have that. Pulling her to him, he turned her in his arms and rubbed his hard-on against her. He couldn‘t help the male pride that coursed through him upon hearing her reaction. Cupping her breasts, he whispered in her ear. ―Mine, Eshe.‖

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Feeling her nipples harden, he pinched them, eliciting a soft moan from her. It was a start, but it wasn‘t enough. He wanted more. Pulling her head back, he kissed a path down her throat and over to her shoulder. ―Mine,‖ he repeated as he backed her against the door and knelt before her. Undoing the snaps and zippers, he worked her calças de ganga down. Inching down her roupa interior, he placed a kiss on those lush hips before gently biting each one. ―Did you just bite me?‖ a startled Eshe asked a moment before she moaned his name. ―Sim,‖ he responded as he licked his way up to her breasts. Lifting her soutien, he gently bit the nipples before taking her mouth in a demanding kiss. Only after she looked good and ravished did he bother putting her back together. ―Now I‘m all rumpled,‖ she complained as she smoothed her clothes. ―Sim, you are,‖ he said. ―That was my intent.‖ ―Your intent was to make me look sloppy?‖ ―Não, my intention is to make you look ravished. That way, I won‘t have to kill my irmão or primos for interfering with you, Eshe.‖ ―You‘re serious.‖

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―Sim. When it comes to you, I will always be serious,‖ he said as he led her out the door. Though she was properly dressed, she was missing something…something he‘d remedy before the day was out. Eshe Nada was his, and that was just how it was going to be. The universe had decreed. Now all he had to get was the anel.

CHAPTER SEVEN Despite her earlier bravado, doubts slammed into her as soon as she stepped outside of the bedroom. ―I can‘t believe I did you in your parent‘s house. Are you sure they‘re not going to call me a whore and run me out of the village?‖ ―First, we own most of the village. Second, we are Brazilian, Eshe. My pais would probably have much to say if you didn‘t have your way with me. In fact, I bet my mãe would be put out if you‘d been able to keep your hands off of me. My pais will think that I seduced you, so no worries.‖ ―While I don‘t regret it, I‘m normally not so wanton.‖ ―Ah, but that is because until yesterday, you did not have me as your man,‖ he said as he kissed her once more. Normally, she couldn‘t stomach arrogant men, but Enéas was right so she let it slide. The walk to the dining room shouldn‘t have taken as long as it did, but considering what Enéas was busy getting into (her), Eshe was surprised they made it a full step outside of the bedroom. His big hand at the small of her back, his mouth

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constantly somewhere on her skin, she couldn‘t keep the grin off her face if she‘d wanted to. She felt so good inside and out that she doubted a jackhammer could wipe that grin off of her face. She hadn‘t got one foot into the dining room when she was proven wrong. There wasn‘t a jackhammer present, but there was something more dangerous: her sister. Before she could utter one word, her sister shouted down the house. ―You brazen hussy! I leave you alone for a less than one day and you find a man as hot as Salacious and deflower him in his own parent‘s home!‖ Eshe wasn‘t even going to ask how her sister got here. She wasn‘t even going to defend herself about debauching Enéas, especially as she did— all night long. What she was going to say something about was the fact that her sister had a handful of one of the Roraima boys‘ hair, which meant she‘d either just bashed his face into the table or she was about to. The fact that he had a black eye simply alerted her to the dude‘s imminent danger. Rushing over, she snatched Esha‘s hands out of that poor dude‘s hair, which unlike the other Roraima males, he didn‘t have a bunch of. It didn‘t matter that said bit of hotness was about

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seven feet of muscle—this was her sister. Esha could do some serious damage without even trying. When she was trying, people went missing. ―Oh my goodness, did you assault this boy?‖ ―Yes,‖ the Roraima boy said. ―Several times. Although I‘d like to point out that I am not a boy. I am a man.‖ ―That‘s nice,‖ she said as she patted his hand before turning back to Esha. ―What did you do?‖ ―From the smile on homie‘s face over there and the tentative way you‘re walking, nothing near what you did.‖ ―Unlike dude, Enéas liked what I did to him.‖ ―Yeah, well, will his parents like the fact that you stole their son‘s virtue?‖ ―Probably more than his parents will like the fact that you beat their son‘s ass.‖ ―Let‘s go, before we‘re arrested in a foreign country…you know, the very thing we were trying to avoid earlier.‖ ―The only reason we came close to being arrested in a foreign country is because you wouldn‘t let me kill Yngvi and stash his body somewhere in the airport. If you had, we‘d be out

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having some sangrias and attracting hot men, but instead we‘re worrying about being arrested. As soon as we get back to Atlanta I‘m hunting Yngvi down and killing him. You hear me?‖ ―All of South America just heard you. And get your hands off of that boy. Haven‘t you done enough damage to him?‖ Turning to the guy and once again untangling Esha‘s hand from his hair, she offered an apology. ―I‘m so sorry.‖ Emptying the ice in his glass into a napkin, she pushed it to his injured face. ―I‘m not a boy,‖ he repeated. ―Shut up,‖ her sister yelled. ―Don‘t interrupt my sister when she‘s talking.‖ Since she was about to punctuate her sentence with a punch to his face, Eshe grabbed her. ―Esha, no.‖ ―Why? You‘re always stopping me.‖ ―Yes. I‘m always stopping you from doing stuff like going on a massacre. Bad me.‖ ―Two dudes isn‘t a massacre.‖ ―No, but once you start kicking ass and taking names, you won‘t want to stop. And before you know it, we‘ll be knee-deep in bodies, Esha. So no. No massacre, no maiming, no killing, no hunting…‖

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She hadn‘t even gotten warmed up when the sound of chuckling hit her ears. Too late, she remembered her audience. The next few seconds was like a Dave Chappelle skit. She tried to cover Esha. Esha tried to cover her. The dude whose hair Esha had was dragged out of the chair and onto the floor. While she pulled Esha‘s hand from his hair, some of his hair might‘ve come with her. Of course, none of this prevented Esha from kicking dude in the ribs a time or two and shooting him the bird. And nothing stopped their grandmomma from getting her two cents in. ―Get ‘em, girls! Show ‘em who‘s boss.‖ Two seconds later, their grandmomma was smack dab in the mix, smacking dude‘s butt with her cane. ―That‘ll teach you.‖ Before she could appreciate just how crazy Enéas‘ grandmomma was, he stepped in and grabbed her up. Another Roraima stepped in and grabbed Esha up. No one grabbed up their grandmomma, who was going to town with her cane. A second later, Enéas‘ father snatched her from Enéas just as his uncle snatched Esha from the boy who‘d been holding her. Instead of being told off, both she and Esha received hugs.

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―It‘s okay. I‘m sorry these boys upset you. Now come over here and get some breakfast.‖ ―But,‖ she began. ―Shh,‖ his daddy said while he sat her down and heaped her plate high with food. Not even bothering to protest, Esha took her seat beside her and said all loud, ―I like this family.‖ So did she…even though they were the craziest bunch of people she‘d ever met. Knowing Esha and Pac, that was really saying something. Over breakfast she‘d learned that Uncle Feliciano had sent his son Cristóvão off in the family jet to intercept her sister and bring her back to Brazil. She‘d also learned that Cristóvão was accustomed to having people ask how high when he said to jump. Ah, poor dude. Apparently, he‘d never met a Southern woman. No wonder he had the black eye. She was surprised he didn‘t have two black eyes and a limp, considering Esha‘s temper. If she hadn‘t been so hungry, she would‘ve laughed her ass off looking at the cross expression he kept giving her sister and the not-so-subtle middle fingers her sister was giving him. Despite being angry at her sister‘s total lack of tact, she couldn‘t help but love her. Esha was nothing if not

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consistent, and truth was, she was consistently on her side. Right now, Esha was just as confused as she was by the Roraima family. And while she hid it well, Eshe knew she envied them for their love and affection. She didn‘t have long to be envious, however. Just as they had her, the Roraima males started in on the spoiling. Enéas‘ grandfather took up residence right beside her, pulling her into a hug and asking if she wanted him to beat his grandson for upsetting her. Knowing she was about to say ―yes,‖ she kicked her sister under the table. Esha being Esha, just ignored her and instead laid her head on grandpa‘s shoulder and meekly responded. ―Yes, please.‖ And then, using the big eyes, she looked over at her and smiled. Eshe‘s blood ran cold. While she was sure Eshe had no more than the thirty-two teeth humans generally had, her smile resembled that of a shark, with rows upon rows of sharp teeth. ―Mr. and Mrs. Roraima, while I thank you for your hospitality, it‘s clear that my sister has stolen your son‘s virtue. Enéas seems like a good boy, and I know it might be hard for him to arrange a good match after what my sister has

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done to him. While she was wrong, you‘re partly to blame. You simply can‘t have such a goodlooking son all close up on a red-blooded woman and not expect her to be tempted by his virility. I think they should marry. What about you?‖ She was going to kill Esha. Yep, kill her. Kill her dead. ―Oh my goodness.‖ About to reach over and strangle her, she was waylaid by Enéas‘ mother. ―I think you‘re absolutely right. They should marry…as soon as possible.‖ ―Yes, being she could be pregnant. Roraima males are potent!‖ their grandfather crowed. ―Yay! A wedding,‖ his aunt said before turning to Esha. ―You know I have three sons.‖ Seeing his family was going to be of absolutely zero help, she turned to Enéas. ―Do something.‖ ―Okay,‖ he said as he leaned down to kiss her. Of its own accord, her body responded. Moaning, she slid her arms around him and kissed him back. ―Hey, get a room!‖ her sister yelled. ―That is a grand idea, Esha,‖ Enéas said, ―but as much as I‘d love to ravish this woman again, there‘s something I must attend to.‖

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―Yeah, getting rid of your other women, because if I catch you stepping out on my sister I‘ll kill you—real slow-like and laughing the entire time.‖ ―And I‘d let you.‖ ―Oh, you said ‗let.‘ That is so cute.‖ Stopping to give her one last kiss, Enéas stood in front of Esha and knelt at her feet. ―I pledge to you that I will have no other woman.‖ ―That‘s easy to say and hard to live up to, especially for a man like you, so don‘t just say it, Enéas. Mean it.‖ ―I do, Esha. It is easy to say, but it‘s also easy for me to maintain, because there‘s no other woman but Eshe.‖ ―That‘s a great answer. So where are y‘all living?‖ ―Anywhere she wants to.‖ ―She wants to live here.‖ ―Hey, she‘s right here while y‘all are busy planning her life,‖ Eshe interrupted. She didn‘t mind what they were saying; it was simply the principle of the thing. ―Yeah, but I‘m better at knowing what you need, and I say you need hotness right here, and after meeting his granddaddy, I say here is the best place for you. Yep, and I‘m staying too just

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to make sure he doesn‘t act crazy. Now off with you, wench, while I see to your future.‖ ―I hate you.‖ ―Enéas, put some thought into the ring. It‘s not the blingyness of the bling I‘m interested in, but the integrity of the man who puts the bling on my sister‘s hand. And as a dowry, I want your grandparents. Thanks.‖ ―She‘s got good taste, that one,‖ his granddaddy said. ―Sure does,‖ his grandmomma chimed in. ―I‘m rather partial to my grandparents. How about we share them?‖ ―I want them on weekends and all summer, all major holidays and most of football season.‖ ―You tell, ‘em, missy,‖ his avô said. ―She wants us, neto, and we want her too.‖ ―You just met him like ten minutes ago,‖ a disgruntled Cristóvão said. ―Yes, and that was nine minutes and fortyfive seconds longer than I needed to know that I wanted them, so shut up. You‘re just mad because your granddaddy has way more swerve than you do.‖ Reaching down, she hugged Enéas. ―You‘re getting a great woman.‖

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Eshe couldn‘t help but smile. Her crazy-ass sister was a real piece of work. Hearing Enéas‘ response, however, had both of them blinking back tears. ―I‘m getting a great sister-in-law too. That‘s the one thing I wanted that my parents wouldn‘t give me.‖ ―The gun‘s still loaded, son. I can still make that happen,‖ his daddy called out. Batshit fucking crazy. The whole damn family was crazy beyond all get out. From the look on her sister‘s face, Esha loved this family. So did she, Eshe admitted after witnessing the smile on Esha‘s face. Her musings were interrupted by a tug on her hair. ―I‘m off to do the bidding of my new sister. I shall return, but it won‘t be until quite late. I‘m sure my irmão and idiot primos will keep you entertained. Don‘t forget which Roraima male you belong to.‖ ―Well, then you‘d best hurry back. I‘m knee deep in Roraima males, which is every woman‘s dream,‖ she sassed. ―Yes, but it is this Roraima male whom you respond to.‖ Bending to whisper in her ear, he continued. ―Eat dinner, but save room for dessert, okay?‖ ―Are you dessert?‖

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CHAPTER EIGHT Making his way to the family vault, Enéas used the key he‘d only used once before and waited for his avô, pai, and tio to arrive. Pulling out the velvet bag that held a single bar of gold, his mind went back to winter break in Amazonas. During breaks, the dense, tropical forests of the Amazon Basin became their home. Their avô felt that the state of males was indeed a sorry one. While monetary wealth was a good thing, people needed intellectual and spiritual wealth to sustain themselves and their família. That was why Roraima males spent winters in the Amazon, learning how to hunt, to fish, to survive, and ultimately how to become men. That was why as teens they performed backbreaking labor, so they‘d know what hard work was, and not be afraid of it. His avô always shook a man‘s hand not because it was polite, but to check to see if the man had calluses. There was no excuse for a man not to have calluses, especially when his wife did. Despite their wealth and education, every Roraima man had calluses. Every Roraima male knew how to survive and thrive with nothing but

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a sharp machete and his will. He was no different. In addition to learning survival skills, they‘d also spent time hunting for gold. Though Brazil had a gold rush, it was centered in and around Ouro Preto in the southeastern part of the country. While there were trace amounts of gold in various places, including Amazonas, the amount of work required for a single wildcatter to procure it was backbreaking and often dangerous. Under the watchful eye of his avô, he spent endless hours in cramped, damp tunnels and ankle-deep in streams hunting for elusive gold. If his avô hadn‘t been so adamant about how they left the environment, it would‘ve gone faster, but he was adamant, so the tedious process was even slower. In the end, his hands were one big callus, and it‘d taken them years of pick-axing and panning to accumulate enough gold nugget, flake and dust to get the required amount. Originally, neither he nor his irmãos and primos knew why they were prospecting for gold. They thought it was simply to fulfill the whim of their avô. While they all loved the cantankerous old man, all of them had come to dislike not only gold but jewelry in general. Having a taste of what

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miners went through, none of them wore jewelry of any kind…except for their wedding rings. Every Roraima male was expected to procure enough gold for a set of wedding rings. Their avô was convinced that after their winters of hard work, his filhos and netos would be discerning about the woman they gave those rings to. He was right. Those winters had been hard on his youthful body. Bleeding hands and blistered heels had just been the beginning. He‘d been one big ache when it was over, so much so that it usually took him a solid two weeks of hearty food, the comforts of home and copious spoiling from his mãe, avó and tia to recover. He‘d spent many winters being angry, but now, instead of being angry about that time in the forest, he was proud that the ring his Eshe wore would be made of gold he‘d personally dug from the earth with his bare hands. His musings were interrupted by the arrival of his avô, pai, and tio. ―Still mad, sobrinho?‖ his tio asked. ―No. I‘m glad we were made to do this, Tio.‖ ―Ah, so it was worth it. Your crazy old avô isn‘t so crazy, is he,‖ his avô stated, rather than asked.

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Getting up, he pulled his avô into a hug. ―You‘re still crazy, avô, but you‘re also as wise as you are crazy.‖ Looking over his hands, which still bore the evidence of those winters, he thought of all of the blood that the forest had claimed. He hadn‘t realized he‘d spoken aloud until he heard the smooth voice of his pai. ―It is good that you gave your blood, and while you shouldn‘t dwell on it, you should never forget the pain, because it will cause you to have compassion for your woman when nature requires her to give blood every month. If your woman chooses to gift you with children, the amount of blood she gives for such a gift should humble you. Being a woman is difficult business, and it is our job as males to recognize that and to protect our women…even unto our own death if necessary.‖ Humbled by his pai‘s words, he found himself swiping back tears even as he stood a bit taller. He‘d always been proud to be part of this family, but at this moment he was proudest. Roraima males treated their women with all due respect…and hunted down those who didn‘t. Piling into the SUV, he was in good spirits as they made the trek to the family

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goldsmith…despite the work that was ahead of him. Famous last words, he thought hours later. It didn‘t take him long to realize that despite his elite education, there was much he didn‘t know about, and gold-smithing was at the top of that list. Who knew gold-smithing was so damn hard, besides goldsmiths, that is? He was covered in sweat, and his ears were ringing with curses his grand-tia slung at him when he failed to do something as exacting and perfect as she decreed. For a while there, he thought his name was ―stupid boy.‖ And then there was the taunting of his male kin, who mocked his efforts with a glee he felt was uncalled for. With the way they carried on, you would‘ve thought they were certified goldsmiths themselves. Now, as he looked over the two gold bands, he was unable to stop the smile that broke out. They weren‘t perfect, but he was pleased with the end result: two millimeters thick, eight millimeters wide, the hammered gold bands were the best thing he‘d ever done. He couldn‘t wait to slide the band onto Eshe‘s finger and for her to slide his band onto his finger.

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―Eight millimeters wide is a damn big ring, filho,‖ his pai teased. ―Maybe you could‘ve just made her a ring that‘d cover her entire finger.‖ He smiled at the teasing, not even caring that he was already jealous over Eshe. ―I just want everyone to know she‘s mine.‖ ―And I don‘t blame you. Eshe‘s a fine woman,‖ his tio said. ―A damn fine woman,‖ his avô corrected. ―Thank you for finding such a beautiful woman to bring into our family,‖ his pai said as he crushed him in a hug before they headed back to Recife.

***

Despite the late hour, he was jazzed, which was good as he still had a few hours of work ahead of him. As undeniably male as the Roraima males were, they weren‘t allowed to simply be stereotypical men. The women in his family had made sure that he knew how to keep a house, shop and prepare meals. Never considering how different that made him from other males, he simply thought keeping a clean house, a well-

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stocked fridge, and being able to prepare a decent meal was par for the course…until he‘d met other males. While not having anywhere near the same amount of OCD as Cristóvão, he appreciated cleanliness, which was why he‘d never had a roommate. Taking a quick shower, he headed over to Eustaquio‘s apartment. Just like his earlier task, he spent most of the time getting cussed at after his primo had witnessed his ―attempt‖ at dessert. While he could cook any number of Brazilian dishes, none of them happened to be desserts. ―Why couldn‘t you just make her some paella and call it a day?‖ his soon-to-be-murdered primo asked after Enéas‘ second attempt. ―It‘s not like she can taste it anyway.‖ ―That‘s not the point. In between threatening me to death and back, Esha told me that when Eshe could taste, she favored sweet things, especially cinnamon flavor and caramel, thus I‘m giving Eshe something that rivals her for taste,‖ he said even as he plated the pão doce with rum caramel sauce. ―You really love her,‖ his primo stated rather than asked. ―Yes.‖

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―After seeing how this dish looks, if Eshe eats it rather than runs screaming from it in horror, you‘ll know she really loves you too. Of course, that dessert is so ugly, I‘m surprised it hasn‘t tried to crawl out of the dish after seeing its own reflection. For that matter, I‘m surprised the dish hasn‘t tried to leap from the counter to get that ugly shit off of it.‖ ―I hate you,‖ was all he‘d said as he slid the glass container into the carrying case. Later, he‘d warm it and set it on the finest china and serve it to her with the finest piece of flatware available. He knew his dessert didn‘t look particularly appealing, but it was saboroso, and not even his chef cousin could deny that.

CHAPTER NINE Having left the house before eight thirty that morning, crafted rings, made a dessert, and cleaned his house to within an inch of its life, it was no surprise that he was tired. Still, there was much to do, namely the claiming of his future. Sure, he could simply wait until tomorrow, but having found Eshe, he knew he didn‘t want to wait another moment, let alone another day to ask her to marry him. Pausing while shaving, he took a good look at himself, wondering what Eshe saw when she looked at him. It sure as hell wasn‘t what so many other women saw when they looked at him. For the first time, he looked past his reflection and examined the man beneath his skin, as that was the man Eshe saw. Stepping out of the shower, he decided against the tailored suit he‘d planned on wearing when he asked her to be his wife. Instead, he threw on a plain white t-shirt, his favorite relaxed-fit jeans, and slid into his tennis shoes. Sliding the rings into his pocket, he called his pais and told them he was on his way. One sentence, but that was all that was needed. He was coming for his future. Knowing the women of his

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household, he had no doubt that they‘d spent the day pampering Eshe even while ensuring that she got plenty of rest. She‘d need it.

***

Eshe had spent the last two hours saying ―no,‖ not that any of the Roraima women listened to her. She might‘ve spent the rest of the morning saying ―no‖ to all of the things they‘d ―insisted‖ she and Esha needed, until Grandma got out that cane and wagged it about. ―If I hear one more peep out of you, your behind is going to be hot…and not hot like when my grandson gets you all worked up!‖ she‘d yelled. Yes, yelled. Loudly. In the middle of the five-star restaurant. With absolutely no shame. Eshe didn‘t protest after that. She simply accepted their love and kindness (or first-class spoiling, as Esha had called it) with all of the grace she could muster. Four hours later, when she‘d slid into bed for a much-needed nap, she could do nothing but admire the Roraima women. Nothing stopped a Roraima woman who was hellbent on having her way. Apparently, ―hell-bent‖

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was the only speed they had. She didn‘t admire them because they were rich, educated, or classy. She admired them because they reminded her of Esha. Nobody loved her like Esha. ―You deserve the best of everything,‖ her little sister said all stubborn-like. For the first time, she believed it.

***

Enéas walked into the door of his parent‘s home at ten p.m. on the dot. Wasting no time, he made his way to the living room. Immediately, he spotted his woman, and just as always, he was taken aback—not by her beauty but by what she did to him. ―Eshe,‖ he rasped as he drew near. ―Did you save room for dessert?‖ ―Indeed I did.‖ She smiled. ―Good,‖ he said as he turned to his family. ―I am taking Eshe.‖ There was no argument. Esha and his mother practically shoved them out of the door with warnings and smiles. ―Why haven‘t you asked where I‘m taking you?‖ he asked.

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―Because there‘s no need to. I know that wherever you‘re taking me, it‘s safe.‖ There simply wasn‘t any higher praise. Halting his movements, he pulled her to him and kissed her. ―Thank you,‖ he said when he released her lips. He walked her to his house…not the luxury apartment he stayed in when he was in town, but the luxurious cabin that was nestled within the lush, tropical vegetation, mangroves, and coconut trees of their family compound. Consisting of a spacious master suite and three guest suites, he had yet to outfit anything except the bedroom and the living room, as he‘d always known one day he‘d bring a wife here. While many of the rooms stood empty, the kitchen, living room and master suite were well-appointed. This was where he spent time when he came home. Only women with the last name Roraima had ever stepped foot into this house. While the future might bring other females into his home, only Eshe Nada would lie in his bed. Opening the door, he picked up Eshe and carried her over the threshold. Sitting her down in the living room, he kissed her and bid her to wait. Making his way into the kitchen, he readied his dessert. As he waited for the sauce to warm,

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he carefully worked a clean, soft cotton cloth over the plate. This was not any plate, but a plate made of hand-etched glass embellished with eighteen-karat yellow gold. Setting the single slice of bread pudding on the plate, he reached for a fork that was just as impressive as the plate. The Jaylee Sorenson original was handcrafted eighteen-karat gold plated over stainless steel. He polished the tines of the fork until it shone. Nothing but the best for his woman, he thought as he slid a crisp linen napkin over his arm, picked up the dessert and headed back to her. Settling the napkin over her lap, he carefully handed her the dessert before kneeling before her. ―I know it‘s not much to look at, but…‖ he began. ―Cinnamon and caramel,‖ she whispered as she looked at the dessert. ―You don‘t have to eat it if you don‘t want to.‖ ―Did you make this?‖ she asked with a smile lighting her eyes. ―Yes.‖ ―Then of course I shall eat it. Further, I will enjoy every bite. While I can‘t distinguish the ingredients in this bread pudding, I don‘t need a sense of taste to know that love is in here. You

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are like Esha in so many ways. Despite how futile something is, you give me the best.‖ ―You‘re letting me off the hook.‖ ―No, Enéas, I‘m letting you in,‖ she said as she cupped his face and gently stroked his cheek. ―Once, a pastor‘s wife gave me a handful of candy. There were peppermints, butterscotches, cinnamon disks and chewy bits of caramel. Since we rarely had sweets, I savored any kind of sweet I could get my hands on, but I especially enjoyed the cinnamon and caramel. When Esha found out how much, she took her college fund (all six dollars that she‘d managed to hide away) and bought me two bags of each. Esha always made it her business to make sure I had some sweetness in my life. She picked up every penny she saw on the street, she traded away the one meal she could count on (the free school lunch) just to get me a handful of cinnamon disks. Once, she traded lunch for a month for a single caramel apple. Even after I lost my sense of taste, Esha still made sure I had cinnamon and caramel. And tonight, you have done the same.‖ Instead of interrupting her with the million questions he had, he remained silent and let her conduct this moment. It was difficult to remain still. The tears that poured from her eyes broke

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his heart. The confession that passed her lips broke everything in him. A privileged and wellloved child, he knew nothing but love and acceptance. While he‘d been taught how to survive, he did so with the knowledge that he‘d never have to put it to use. His família had given him all that they had, including his place in the world. Eshe and her sister had to fight every day for what should‘ve been the undisputed birthright of every individual. Gathering her to him, he held her as tight as he could and cried as silently as he could. Though he didn‘t make a sound, Eshe must‘ve felt his tears. ―I didn‘t tell you to make you feel sorry for me,‖ she said. ―I could never feel sorry for you, Eshe. I can only feel proud and humbled by your strength.‖ ―Then why are you crying?‖ ―Because I‘m human. You make me feel so many things, my humanity most of all. Thank you for your trust, Eshe.‖ ―You make me unafraid. With you, I‘m not afraid to be a woman. I‘m not afraid to be vulnerable. I‘m not afraid to hope. You honor me, Enéas.‖

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―Every day, Eshe. I swear it. Every day if you but give me the chance,‖ he said as he rested his forehead against hers. ―I can do no less, Eshe.‖ ―I know, and I cannot help but love you for it,‖ she said as she beckoned him to feed her. ―You‘re too good for me,‖ he said as he lifted the fork and fed her the first bite. ―No, Enéas. I‘m just right. We‘re just right,‖ she said as she took the fork and fed him a bite. ―We are,‖ he agreed as he looked into the eyes of his beloved. She was everything to him…everything, everything, everything. As an attorney, he had a wealth of experience determining a client or an opponent‘s deceit and/or fear. Disappointed in the behavior of humanity, he‘d walled himself off from many things, but Eshe found her way inside not just his walls but inside of him. And he wanted her to be there. Instead of frightening him, it humbled him. The moment simply reiterated everything he already knew: the woman before him was everything. Retrieving the rings, he held them out. ―I know I‘m supposed to wait for the wedding, but I cannot wait another moment, Eshe.‖

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―Then don‘t wait.‖ Sliding the ring on her finger, he entreated her. ―Say ‗yes.‘‖ ―Say ‗yes‘ to me also,‖ she demanded as she took the matching ring and slid it onto his finger. ―Every moment since I saw you has been nothing but yeses.‖ ―Good, then I can do nothing less. Yes, Enéas.‖ Overwhelmed with emotion and humbled by her acceptance of him, his words were torn from his core. ―God, Eshe. Obrigada. Thank you.‖ He didn‘t realize that he was still crying until he felt Eshe pull him tight against her and wrap herself around him. She said nothing with her mouth but spoke epics with her body. That moment was the ―Amen‖ on everything he felt. This woman was the ―Amen‖ to his existence, he thought as he felt the beat of her heart through their embrace. Enéas never knew that he could be so attuned to another person. He was an open book to her, and if she wanted to know anything, she‘d only have to look at him and know everything he felt. Even after witnessing the love between his avós and pais, he‘d never guessed he‘d want to be

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so in sync with another person that he could feel their joy, their pain, their truth, their vulnerability. That was why, despite the emotions that swirled through him, he felt Eshe‘s sudden, albeit slight, shift in mood. ―Eshe?‖ he questioned as he held her back so he could look into her eyes. ―Que?‖ ―There is something sweet, Enéas. Not the gooey sweetness of the caramel or the spicy taste of the cinnamon. There is something else. I can taste it, Enéas.‖ ―That‘d be the rum,‖ he said as he fed her another bite. ―I think I like rum,‖ she said when she finished. Before he could say ―Praise God,‖ he found himself flat on his back with an armful of Eshe straddling him and raining ―yeses‖ into his mouth. Not a man accustomed to anything but the dominant position, he rolled her beneath him and feasted on her sweetness. He could‘ve stayed in her arms for the rest of his life, but he would not take her on the floor. Picking her up, he took her to their bedroom.

***

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As soon as he laid her on the bed, Eshe toed off her sandals and panties. The simple white sundress was made of crisp lines and silky material. While it felt good against her skin, the only thing she wanted touching her was Enéas. Just thinking of the way he would touch her caused her to shudder. ―Enéas,‖ she moaned as she rubbed her hand across her sex. ―I‘m right here,‖ he responded as he began to undress. Fascinated, she watched as he tossed his tshirt over his head and stepped out of his jeans. ―Hurry,‖ she demanded as she held her arms out to him. ―I never want to hurry when I make love with you. I always want it to last forever,‖ he rasped as he slid a finger into her heat. ―Enéas,‖ she purred. The moan hadn‘t even made its way past her lips before another raced behind it. ―Enéas.‖ ―Sim. Say my name just like that, Eshe. Just. Like. That,‖ he said as he spread her legs and drank from her. ―Please,‖ she said.

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Lifting his head, he vowed, ―I will always please you.‖ She knew he meant every word. Arching into him, she whispered her demands. ―Please me now.‖ A moment later, he slid his length into her and did just as she demanded. She couldn‘t help but revel in the feel of so much man in her arms. Enéas wasn‘t just any man; he was the man who moved her. He was the man who removed the shackles she‘d put on her femininity, her hopes, and almost the whole of her life. He was the man who freed her to be a woman and be glad of it…to be herself and not be ashamed…to hope and not be fearful. He was the man who returned her taste, because now there was enough sweet to balance out the bitter. ―Enéas,‖ she pleaded, not knowing what she wanted but trusting him to give it to her. ―Eshe,‖ he groaned as he sped up his strokes. ―Eshe,‖ he whispered as she brought her body to crescendo. ―Eshe,‖ he roared as he joined her.

EPILOGUE Two months later The heat woke her, but instead of being put out by it, Eshe simply smiled. She was always hot since her husband insisted on being right up under her. Her husband—she loved the sound of that. Though she‘d been Mrs. Eshe Nada Roraima for two months, she still pinched her arm to remind herself that this wasn‘t simply a dream. Two weeks after Pac and Salomão‘s said their ―hell yeah‘s‖ in the beautiful, tropical rainforest of Amazonas and then did an encore claiming of each other on the sandy beach his parents owned, she and Enéas were united in holy matrimony. Not having anyone in the way of family besides Esha, she didn‘t expect anyone except Esha, Pac and Rina to show up, so when she spotted Dr. Valdason she burst into tears. ―You came?‖ ―Of course I came,‖ he said as he hugged her to him. ―You don‘t think I would allow anyone else to give away my favorite apprentice, do you?‖

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―I‘m your only apprentice.‖ She smiled through tears. ―This is true, but you‘re the only one who calls me ‗Obi Wan,‘ which is why I‘m making you the President of the new Recife Branch of Sons Engineering.‖ ―When did you get a South American branch?‖ ―Two minutes after you told me you were getting married. I told you, we‘re going to do great things together. Now let‘s talk about work later. We need to get you married off. We‘ve already had a talk with your young man.‖ She‘d had no idea of who ―we‖ was, but when she walked out and saw Rina, she couldn‘t hold back the tears. ―I know you didn‘t think I was going to let you get married without me. There‘s cake at weddings, which is the cool big sister to cupcakes,‖ the crazy woman said as she finished munching away at a cupcake. Isoke Morehouse-Valdason bumped Rina out of the way and handed her a bouquet. ―You know I‘d hoped you‘d marry my brother, Zuberi, but I guess Enéas will do,‖ she said all put-out like. ―But just in case he acts crazy, I had Zuberi promise to break his legs…both of them…in seven

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places…every year…for the rest of his life…for starters.‖ ―Um, thanks?‖ ―Don‘t mention it. I‘m sure it‘d be more welcome than what Esha threatened to do to him and less messy than what your homie Rina could come up with.‖ The rest of the threats had to be tabled, because Enéas‘s Grandmomma came in making demands. ―Hey, wedding now; threaten to kill my grandson later. I‘m not getting any younger, although remarkably, I seem to get hotter and hotter.‖ The wedding had surpassed all of her dreams. Of course, being that she‘d never had any desire to marry anyone, it had to by default. Though small, no expense was spared. Her plan was to keep the dress and ceremony simple and subsequently the cost minimal, but the Roraima women had shut that down. ―We have all boys,‖ they‘d said, ―which means all we get to do is show up. Now that we have a daughter we can dress, we‘re going to take full advantage of this.‖ And they had. They‘d considered all of her wishes, which had boiled down to one thing: Enéas as the groom. She‘d allowed the Roraima

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women to have their way, because really there was no other way. Besides, she was confident that whatever the Roraima women came up with would rock. A deeply private affair, they didn‘t go to dressmakers and event planners; dressmakers and event planners came to them. Instead of resembling Hollywood glam and Vegas-style bling, their ceremony bespoke intimacy. While she couldn‘t tell you anything about her gown other than it was ivory in color and made her feel princess-like, she would never forget the look on Enéas‘ face when he first glimpsed her. She couldn‘t name the flowers that made up her bouquet; she only recalled that they smelled delicious and reminded her of a kaleidoscope. Though Enéas had given her a band made up of many diamonds, it was the gold band that she‘d refused to take off that meant everything to her. The vows weren‘t flowery or lengthy or badass, but they did come from the depths of their souls. ―Thank you for loving me. Thank you for having me. Know that I shall always keep you.‖ Never would she forget the humility and honesty with which Enéas spoke his, nor the fierceness and humility with which she spoke hers.

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The reception was just as unforgettable as the wedding itself. She couldn‘t ask for a better beginning to being Mrs. Eshe Nada Roraima. Like the wedding, there were a lot of details she couldn‘t recall, but she‘d never forget the important things. The name of the song they had their first dance to escaped her, but she could tell you with one hundred percent accuracy how many times Enéas‘s heart beat and how it beat— for her. She couldn‘t recall when she‘d thrown the bouquet; she simply remembered the look on Esha‘s face when she caught it, since her sister was smack dab in the middle of getting Cristóvão told and good by the looks of it. And then there was the cake. Baked and designed by Eustaquio himself, its beauty blew her (and everyone else) away. But she didn‘t enjoy it simply because it was beautiful to look at; she enjoyed it because for the first time since so long, she could taste everything in it. She‘d wept when she bit into that cake, and those assembled had wept with her. Everything had been so perfect, including the wedding night. She hadn‘t wanted to go off anywhere because she was right where she wanted to be. Enéas, of course, wasn‘t having that. Tucking her onto their family jet, he‘d taken

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her on the first leg of a round-the-world trip. ―Every year, we shall add to it,‖ he‘d promised. ―I want many, many years,‖ she‘d admitted. A deep voice pulled her from her memories. ―You‘re still thinking about the wedding?‖ Enéas asked. ―Yes,‖ she said without even a smidgen of apology in her voice. ―I‘m glad you still feel that way. I‘ll work hard so that you always feel that way.‖ She knew Enéas spoke the truth. Rolling over, she smiled as he drew her even closer. Swallowing her moan of pleasure, she wiggled even closer, knowing her teasing would get her what she wanted: Enéas all hot, ripped, and bothered. ―That‘s what got us in this predicament,‖ her husband rasped into her ear before nipping the lobe. It did indeed, she thought. What she said was, ―It‘s not really a ‗predicament‘ when all of the ramifications are good things.‖ ―This is true,‖ he said as he pulled her atop him. ―You‘re the one who can‘t keep your hands off of me,‖ she moaned.

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―You‘re the one who keeps looking so tempting.‖ ―So you‘ll understand when I have a gaggle of males all wanting me?‖ ―Sim. I will understand, thus I will make their deaths swift,‖ he promised as he linked their hands and pushed into her. Her whole body sighed. An alpha male, Enéas wasn‘t afraid who knew that he loved her. Every time he saw her there was some kind of display of affection. He made her feel so wanted, so loved, so fearless. ―I love you, Enéas,‖ she whispered as she fell apart around him. ―As I do you, Eshe,‖ he responded right before he fell with her.

AND ONE MORE THING Other than astride her man‘s body, the dining room became Eshe‘s favorite new spot. She didn‘t know what had happened to kick-start her taste buds, but now that she could taste, she took great pleasure in sampling the savory Brazilian dishes. While she still couldn‘t place most of the tastes, she was deliriously happy with the fact that she could taste anything. Happy for her, all of the Roraimas had taken turns bringing her new things to try. Every dish she could taste became her favorite, though the dishes with chocolate, rum and caramel still held a special place in her heart.

**THE JEANIE AND JAYHA**

Thank you for reading. We appreciate the investment of your time and trust and hope you enjoyed the tale as much as we enjoyed writing it. ~Jeanie and Jayha To read more about the characters connected to this book, check out the following stories: If You Can’t Stand the Heat…Don’t Start the Lickin’ by Jeanie and Jayha Veiled Passions by Jeanie and Jayha The Lick and the Dread by Jeanie and Jayha For more information on the Jeanie and Jayha universe, please visit our Web site: www.jeanieandjayha.com

JEANIE AND JAYHA A kickass tag-team bound together by the pen, Jeanie (the shagalicious wordslinger) and Jayha (the ninja master of h*ll no‘s) are forces of nature that will either leave you begging for mercy or begging for more. We are women who have brains we aren't afraid to use; feelings we aren't afraid to express; and, middle fingers that we aren‘t afraid to extend. We pen stories that push all kinds of boundaries and we don‘t apologize for it. Our heroines are feisty; our heroes are hot, and our stories are one-of-a-kind adventures. Come visit us at www.jeanieandjayha.com. Praises, compliments, adulation, and the like for Jeanie and Jayha can be sent to: [email protected]