The Jaguar Alpha's Forbidden Lover

Kinsey was having the time of her life, though the humidity was starting to get to her. Perhaps it was also the caipivodka, her third of the day. She’d arrived in Rio for Carnival two days ago, and she was still getting the hang of how it all worked.

The first day she’d woken in her hotel, it had been because there was a seven a.m. bloco happening outside in the street below. It had been an unusual way to wake up, but she had anticipated it again and was prepared today. She’d been partying since seven a.m. herself, and that included drinking too much alcohol and feeling the effects of the heat.

Starting to get a headache, she made the decision to move away from the current display of feathered, sequined dancers teaching near the Sambadrome so she could find a quiet place to close her eyes and rest for a few minutes.

Stepping out onto the beach was hot, making it even hotter than she’d been in the shade of the stadium, and she winced as some of the sand touched her feet, rising above the sides of her sandals. She darted across the sand as quickly as possible, intent on making it back to her hotel for an afternoon siesta. She wasn’t certain what they called naptime in Brazil, or if it was a common practice, but she needed one.

She was just about to cross the road when she felt a tug on her purse. Kinsey turned to look, gasping in outrage when she saw a young boy with a switchblade, currently slashing through the strap of her bag. “Stop that at once.”

He looked at her very briefly, said something that was probably not at all flattering, though she didn’t know enough Portuguese to translate, and started to run away with her purse.

Without thinking about it, Kinsey ran after him. It had her documents and some money in there, though she had her passport in the hotel safe, along with a stash of fallback money for just such an occurrence. Still, instinct spurred her to chase after him as she wasn’t thinking straight.

Suddenly, two strong arms engulfed her, physically lifting her off the ground and arresting her rapid pace to catch up to the thief.

Her mouth dropped open, and she turned to confront whoever had grabbed her. “Release me.” How she wished she had learned more Portuguese. She’d picked up everything her mother had taught her, and she’d spent some time studying before her trip to Brazil, but her vocabulary was still painfully inadequate.

“Hush, querida, and I will fetch it for you. It’s foolish to rush off on your own.”

She was vaguely aware of him lowering her back to the sidewalk, but she was still staring at him, mouth agape. She suspected her interest had far more to do with his stunning looks than that he had dared scoop her up and was now running after her purse snatcher.

She should protest for his safety, but she found it impossible to speak as she watched his lithe form easily gain on the boy who had taken her purse. It was over in a matter of seconds. The tall, dark-haired man with his bronzed skin grabbed the boy, obstructing his attempt to escape.

Kinsey gasped when the boy turned the knife on the man, but he knocked it aside as if it was nothing, hitting the boy’s hand and sending the knife flying. He snatched her purse back and issued something that looked like a stern warning, though she couldn’t hear it from the distance separating them, and it was likely in Portuguese anyway. Then the boy, looking suitably chastened, hung his head and trudged away as the man gestured for him to go.

After that, he was returning to her, which took no time at all with his long legs and muscular form. Kinsey certainly appreciated the sunga he wore, its bright red color emphasizing how snugly it fit his toned physique. That was all he wore, and she spent another moment staring at him, knowing how gauche it was, even as he approached.

He seemed amused rather than offended by her appraisal as he held out her purse, wiggling it slightly. “Here are your valuables returned, querida.”

She took the purse tilting her head. “What is querida?”

He shook his head, waving off her question. “You’re not Brazilian, that’s for sure.” He tipped his head slightly, as though considering. “American, judging by the accent. From where do you hail?” As he asked, his nostrils flared, and his eyes took on a heavy-lidded appearance for a moment. He seemed to be savoring something.

“The Midwest.” That was specific enough, since she didn’t expect him to be overly familiar with American geography. Most people who weren’t from the States recognized the Midwest.

He grinned “You’re a wholesome farm girl then. Here, we call the farm a fazenda.”

“I’m familiar with the term.” She took some pride in telling him that, glad she’d learned as much as she could. Her father, Kondo, hadn’t had much time to teach her mother Portuguese before he was killed in the car accident while she was pregnant with Kinsey, but Ava had learned everything he had taught and passed it on to Kinsey. Unfortunately, that still left vast holes in her vocabulary. She’d hoped to pick it up on the fly as she went, but so far, she was having mixed results.

“What brings you to Rio, querida?”

“My name is Kinsey,” she said with a hint of coolness. “I’m here to party.” It sounded ludicrous when she said it. Kinsey had never really been the partying type. She’d always been quiet and studious, getting her homework done and looking after herself while her mother worked two jobs to support them.

She’d earned a scholarship to school due to her diligence, and she had been an industrious librarian the four years she had worked after completing her Master’s degree until her mother’s illness. She grimaced at the fresh ache of pain that accompanied the memory of losing Ava.

He frowned. “You frown. Are you not enjoying the blocos?”

Kinsey did her best to dismiss her grief. “Of course, I am. There are so many, and they’re all different in varied ways. It’s amazing this shuts down the whole city though. Trying to get anywhere around here except on foot is impossible.”

He chuckled. “It certainly is, at least during Carnival. The streets will never quite empty, but they’re never quite as full as they are during this event.” He looked around. “Have you partaken of all the events?”

She lifted a shoulder. “I went to the Sambadrome last night for the parade and again this morning to see lessons. I’ve attended a few blocos and eaten roughly my weight in salgados while drinking enough caipivodkas to drown in. I was on way back to the hotel for a short nap, since I have a headache.”

Why was she revealing all that to him? It was far too personal, and she wasn’t one to dispense personal information to someone she didn’t know. She couldn’t deny being around this man left her feeling flirtatious and more than a little daring though, which was absurd since she didn’t even know his name.

As though he had read her thoughts, he held out his hand. “I’m Faron Rocha, and I would be happy to guide you.”

She’d had some men flirt with her, but no one had offered to be her guide thus far. Kinsey would’ve assumed she would pass on the offer had someone made it, but now that the chance was before her, she extended her hand to shake his while mulling over the idea. Did she need a guide?

At first, it was the typical Western handshake, but he quickly turned her hand sideways, his engulfing it, while his other hand covered hers and started caressing the back of her hand. She shivered at the heated contact and cleared her throat. She should probably try to tug away her hand, but she wasn’t motivated to do so. “As I said, I need a break from the partying.”

“What you need is agua de coco.” As he spoke, he started moving back toward the sand, pulling her along with him.

She offered brief resistance before giving in, since she didn’t want to break up the interlude just yet. Part of the reason she’d come to Brazil had been to seek adventure, and meeting this man seemed pretty adventurous.

She had no idea what agua de coco was until he stopped in front of a stand to order. Then she realized it was simply a coconut with a straw in it, and she eyed it doubtfully. “How will this help my headache?”

He flashed her a grin, and his white teeth were a marked contrast to his bronze skin. “You don’t know the health benefits of coconut water?”

She shrugged her shoulder. “Not really.”

“It’s full of electrolytes, so the water will help counter any dehydration from the alcohol. In fact, in some impoverished places in the world, coconut water is used in place of blood for blood transfusions, should blood to be unavailable.”

She blinked at that information. “I had no idea the humble coconut was so amazing.” She brought it to her mouth, sipping from the straw. She was prepared for the funky boxed coconut water taste she had experienced the one and only time she’d tried it in Michigan, but it was surprisingly different.

It was also more pleasant, and she found herself practically slurping it down. He was right too. Within ten minutes of finishing her coconut water, she was feeling more refreshed, making her headache dissipate. She looked around, holding her empty coconut. “Isn’t there meat inside? I hate to throw it away.”

He grinned at her. “It is a green coconut, so perhaps the flesh would not be so tasty. There are animals who will scavenge it later, I assure you.”

She winced, having seen a number of stray animals around. It bothered her and was the only thing she had disliked about her trip to Brazil so far.

“What is your fancy? Are you in the mood for more samba schools, or would you like to find another bloco? Or we could spread a canga on the sand, or rent beach chairs, if you prefer?”

She looked longingly at the water. “I’d really like to go in the ocean, but I’m kind of intimidated by how strong the waves are.”

He grinned at her. “Very well. Your wish is my command.” He took her hand again, pulling her toward the beach, and Kinsey allowed herself to follow Faron.

As they neared the water, he paused, looking at her before turning around. He craned his neck over his shoulder to see her. “Up on my back, querida, and I shall not let you fall.”

It was completely unlike the reticent librarian in Kinsey to climb on the back of a man she’d barely known for twenty minutes, but with his enticing smile and the ocean beckoning, how could she resist? Still feeling a little shy, she moved forward as he bent down, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

He grasped her thighs, holding her against him steadily, and she wrapped her legs completely around him. The position was strange and intimate, causing her core to flare with heat. She barely bit back a moan as he chuckled, the rumble of his chest sending vibrations through her. “Are you secure?”

“Sim,” she said with a cry of delight as he started running into the waves.

They crashed over her, coming to her chest, and she gasped at the contrast of the cold water against her heated flesh. The ocean probably wasn’t overly cool, but it felt icy compared to the hundred-degree weather around her.

The water was refreshing as well, and she moved closer to him, clutching tightly as he walked them until they were waist-deep in the water. She held on for dear life, and his hands grasped her thighs. He was holding her, but he was also slowly stroking her skin with his fingertips. It made her shiver with delight.

“How is the ocean, querida?”

“It’s amazing.” He seemed quite surefooted. She had seen a man similar to his build swept out to sea earlier in the day, quickly rescued by a group of his friends, and it had left her too nervous to venture into the water by herself. As a Midwestern girl, her swimming had been confined to the Great Lakes, which had some waves, but nothing like this.

Slowly, he lifted her away from him, showing his dexterity by managing to bring her to his front instead of his back without ever letting her feet touch the sandy bottom. She was glad, because of their height difference. On her feet, the water would surely come up to her breasts versus her waist, and the idea frightened her.

She clung more tightly to him, only partially from fear though. This close, she could see the faint gold speckles in his dark-brown eyes, even though hers were shielded by sunglasses. He seemed unbothered by the bright light, and she imagined it was because he was accustomed to it.

“What have you seen of Carnival?”

“I’ve only been here a couple of days, but I think I’ve seen a little bit of everything.”

His lips twitched as his head lowered slightly. “Are you familiar with the kissing?”

Kinsey flushed slightly. “I am.” Yesterday evening, a young man had grabbed her at the crowded parade and planted one on her before running off with his friends. She had been annoyed at the stolen kiss, but she was sure she wouldn’t feel annoyed if Faron took one.

As though her thoughts had dragged her gaze there, she watched his mouth, licking her lips as his curved into a smile.

He groaned, clearly enjoying the sight of her licking her lips. “I would be remiss if I didn’t allow you to experience all parts of Carnival.”

Her lips twitched with amusement. “Of course. You’re practically an ambassador for your country, aren’t you?”

For a moment, he looked troubled. “You know who I am?”

Kinsey blinked. “No, not really. I mean, you said your name was Faron Rocha. That’s all I know.” She tilted her head. “Are you an ambassador?”

He laughed. “No, but I thought for a moment you’d figured out I’m a secret prince.”

She giggled. “Does Brazil have a monarchy?” Not to her knowledge, but it was something to research.

Later. Much, much later. She made that distinction as his head lowered, his lips shaping to hers.

She had been expecting the same kind of casual kiss she had received yesterday from the bold young man, and which she had seen exchanged among countless people in the last two days. Perhaps Faron had intended to give her that kind of kiss, but as soon as their lips touched, it was like an inferno ignited, and she moaned as she pressed closer to him. Her fingers clutched his shoulders while he held her against him, his hands moving from her thighs to her buttocks as his mouth parted her lips so his tongue could slip inside.

Kinsey stroked Faron’s tongue with her own, not letting any hint of shyness dull the kiss. She didn’t miss the way he was kneading her buttocks, so revealed by the typical swimwear she had purchased on the beach yesterday after realizing how out of place her modest one-piece had been.

He could feel her skin, and she could feel the slight roughness of his palms, which indicated he wasn’t a man who sat idly at a desk all day. As he pulled her groin closer to his, her folds filled with heat, and she couldn’t help arching against the length of his arousal, pressing insistently against his sunga.

Perhaps it was fortuitous that the ocean chose that moment to interrupt them by drenching them both with a wave that covered their heads. It was a wake-up call, and a reminder of where they were. With a gasp, Kinsey pulled away from him, still trying to recover from the sudden dowsing of water. She lifted her hands from his shoulders to wipe her face and push back her dark hair, coughing slightly.

He was mostly unaffected, at least from the wave, but his cheeks wore what looked like a flush of pleasure. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “I’m fine, but that was unexpected.”

He grinned. “It’s Brazil. You must expect the unexpected. For now, perhaps you would like to rest on the beach?”

She decided that was a good idea, both because she didn’t want to be doused again, and because she was afraid of the temptation of being held in his arms. Despite that, she still felt slightly disappointed when he walked them from the water, slowly lowering her to her feet.

She looked around, seeing red parasols surrounding them. “I’m not sure we’ll be able to find any space here.”

He grinned. “Perhaps not. We shall still try though.” With those words, he boldly plunged into the thick of people, soon finding a small niche for them. He raised his hand, and the imperious gesture summoned one of the beach vendors as though the man had a direct line to her.

The woman stood before them seconds later, her dark skin dazzling in the sunlight. She held an assortment of things over her shoulders, including a cooler. “What can I get for you?” Her accent while speaking English was thick, and Kinsey was certain she’d used it on her behalf.

While Kinsey had a Brazilian father, she’d inherited her mother’s much fairer complexion, though with his dark hair. She stood out as someone who didn’t routinely spend time at the beach, and the young woman must have correctly guessed she didn’t know much Portuguese either.

Instead of continuing in English, Faron switched to Portuguese, and he spoke the language with confident mastery that suggested he had been born into the culture. She envied how quickly he procured them beach chairs, cold drinks, and samosas.

She took the napkin-wrapped samosa and inhaled its scent. “This must have a thousand calories.” She grinned as she sank her teeth into the crisp shell, enjoying the meaty goodness inside. It should have been too heavy for the heat at the beach, but after the dip in the water, paired with another ice-cold agua de coco, it was perfection.

They spent the rest of the afternoon on the sand, just talking as he told her tidbits about Carnival and Brazil itself. He seemed quite knowledgeable, and she was enamored in no time. She hadn’t necessarily come to Brazil with the idea of indulging in a fling, but the thought was certainly crossing her mind now.

As the afternoon started to fade, he said, “Why don’t you put on your fantasia, and I’ll take you to a splendid dinner?”

She frowned. “I don’t know what fantasia is. I might have to buy one.”

He laughed, but it wasn’t a mocking sound. “Fantasia just means your fancy wear. Did you bring a nice dress with you?”

She nodded. “I brought a couple. I didn’t know if I’d need them for Carnival.”

He waved a hand. “You’ve no doubt seen the variety of costumes around. Some people are content with basic streetwear, while others go all-out. I suggest you dress up and we’ll go to a restaurant I know that celebrates Carnival in spectacular fashion.”

With a nod of agreement, she accepted his hand as he stood up before her, pulling her to her feet easily. The vendor from whom they had rented the chairs appeared as if by magic, though she had probably been watching for them to finish—or had simply just been watching Faron, who drew the eye due to his status as an apex predator.

She blinked at the odd description, wondering wherever it had come from. It was a strange term to apply to the man, but it did fit him. He certainly seemed like an Alpha type, and there was no denying he was at the peak of fitness and male beauty.

She felt a little jealous at the idea of the vendor watching him, but she quickly reined it in. That wasn’t like her either, since she certainly had no claim on him. Even if the night progressed as she thought it might, there was no chance of anything serious happening between them. He lived in Brazil, and she normally lived in Saginaw, Michigan, for heaven’s sake. There was more than just distance separating them.

She sighed in exasperation at herself, trying to get the urge to overthink the situation under control. She needed to just go with the flow. That’s what her mother would’ve told her, and she was certain Ava would have been encouraging her to take whatever opportunity she could with this handsome Brazilian and not talk herself out of the possibility of one amazing night because there couldn’t be more.

He walked her to her hotel, which was nearby. It was one of the nicer ones in the area, and the doorman greeted both of them with a deferential bow of his head. He held open the door for her, but she lingered for a moment. “How will I find you again?”

He smiled. “I’ll return for you in two hours. That should give you plenty of time to don your fantasia.” With a smile, he held out his hand. “Give me your cell phone, and I’ll put in my number.”

She extricated it from her broken bag, passing it to him after unlocking it with her fingerprint. His fingers moved deftly over the screen, and he soon handed it back to her. She looked, and there was a new entry for Faron Rocha, along with his Brazilian phone number. “Two hours?”

He nodded. “Two hours. I believe you’ll be able to procure a mask in the boutique in this hotel, should you wish to.”

She nodded her enthusiasm at the idea and parted from him, though part of her wanted to invite him upstairs with her and forget all about dinner. She didn’t want to rush through anything either, since this was a departure from her reality, so she forced herself to walk into the hotel and stopped at the boutique.

Upstairs, she had a red satin dress, so she looked for a matching mask. They were all ornate and decorated almost to the point of ostentatiousness, but that was sort of the point. With a grin, she picked a scarlet and gold one with black feathers and satin straps that would match her dress material almost perfectly. It was more expensive than she’d expected, and she swallowed as she signed the credit card receipt, knowing she didn’t have to worry too much about money, at least for a while.

She considered her finances as she took her bag upstairs, riding the elevator with several other people, who were all chattering in different languages—Portuguese, English, and what she thought might be German.

At her floor, she stepped out and went to her suite, leaving the mask on the sofa as she walked by before making her way to the balcony. The view was spectacular, and the hotel bill matched, but she’d decided to travel in style. This was the hotel Ava had selected when they had begun planning the trip three years ago.

It had taken two years for both of them to save up enough to afford it, and weeks before they were due to depart, her mother had received a diagnosis of pancreatic cancer. That devastated Kinsey as much as it had Ava. Kinsey had quit her job to take care of her mother, and it had been a surprise to learn her mother carried an extensive life insurance policy, which she revealed to Kinsey days before her death.

Kinsey blinked back tears as she recalled holding her mom’s hand while she sat beside her, remembering how frail that previously strong hand had seemed in hers. Her mother had spoken in her wispy voice, long stolen by her poor health, extracting a promise that Kinsey would still come to Brazil once she had recovered enough from her grieving.

At the time, Kinsey had considered the idea ludicrous, but now she was glad she’d made the promise to her mother and that she had followed through. It had been three months since Ava’s passing, and though it certainly wasn’t easier, she was able to get through each day without feeling so much like she was just going through the motions now.

Brazil had reignited a spark in her, and she was certain Faron had something to do with that as well. The thought of him reminded her of the date ahead, so she turned away from the beautiful view on the balcony to go to the bathroom, wanting a chance to soak in the luxurious marble tub before she donned the fantasia, as he called it, and joined him for dinner.