One Sinful Night in Sao Paulo by Amber Belldene

Author:Amber Belldene [Belldene, Amber]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Entangled;Select Contemporary;romance;contemporary
ISBN: 9781622667512
Google: pd_XBQAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00R19EZGI
Goodreads: 23857921
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2014-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Cassie walked closely by his side, so that her shoulder brushed his arm as they strolled toward the street. She didn’t know what to say and the silence weighed on her. She’d understood his story, witnessed his pain, but she’d never felt anything like what he described—never been lost or believed things were meaningless. Hopefully, she would learn some good lines in school for occasions like this. Maybe there was a phrase book, like for travelers.

From the corner of her eye, she glanced at the stern set of his jaw. She ached for him and longed to comfort him. Worse, even though she knew better, some romantic part of her wished she could be the thing that made him happy.

No. No. No! That never worked. Friends could help, and people who understood, but in the end, Adam would have to find his way on his own.

She looked up to see a little boy, maybe four years old, pedaling on his tiny bicycle directly toward her. So cute, and clearly not able to veer out of her way. She sidestepped away from Adam, making a path for the cyclist in training.

“Mova!” someone called out from behind her.

She spun, seeing too late that she’d stepped into the path of a grown-up cyclist.

She took a single step back, raising her hands. The handlebar crashed into her side with a shock of pain, and she fell, catching herself just before her head hit the pavement.

Her breaths came fast as adrenaline raced through her system. When she sat up, Adam and the cyclist were at her side.

“I am sorry.”

“Cass. Shit. How bad are you hurt?” Adam pushed her hair out of her face. “Did you hit your head?”

“I am very sorry,” the cyclist repeated, and finally, his heavily accented words registered. “You stepped in front of me very fast.”

Crouched at her side, Adam faced the man, his handsome features screwing up in apparent anger. “Jesus, you could have—”

“Adam, I’m okay.” She faced the rider. “Tudo bem.”

Adam gave the man a curt nod. His fingers were probing at her scalp and she swatted them away. He pushed his face into her view. “What hurts?”

She closed her eyes and took stock. Her ribs throbbed. But not as badly as her wrist. She raised it up for his inspection and, very gently, he pressed and prodded until he hit a spot that made her jerk. Her range of motion was okay, but her entire forearm flooded with a hot ache. “I’m sure it’s just a sprain.”

“I’m not so sure. You fell hard.” He stroked the inside of her arm. “You’ll at least need an X-ray. I’m calling Gabriella.”

After a moment of silence, he began speaking, his voice remaining steady while he reported the incident. But as he spun around, trying to describe their location, the stiffness of his movements betrayed the height of his concern. The sight tightened her throat and stiffened her spine at the same time.

Her breaths came fast as adrenaline pumped through her body, numbing her pain.

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