Take It On Faith

by M. L. Rhodes

  Finally, they pulled up to a dark log cabin that sat back in amongst the trees. Miguel drove the Explorer around behind it and parked near the back door.

  "What is this place?” she asked, eyeing it cautiously. The windows were dark and no one appeared to be home.

  "My cousin Javier's place. He's in the States for a couple of months so it's empty. No one even knows we're related, so Galista won't have a clue to look here."

  He tugged his arm way from Elizabeth to open his door, but the look of pain on his face had her throwing hers open, and running around to his side to help him.

  "I'm not an invalid,” he growled when she wrapped an arm around him to help him out.

  When he slung his long legs out of the vehicle and tried to stand, however, he swayed. She took as much of his weight on her as she could, but he was tall. And lean though he appeared to be, his flesh was all muscle, which meant he was heavy.

  "Damn,” he mumbled. “I don't feel great."

  "No shit. Come on, lean on me."

  She helped him up the handful of steps to the back door, but it was locked. “Key?"

  "There should be one under the flower pot.” His words sounded slightly slurred.

  She propped him against the door and picked up several empty clay pots before finding the right one. After working the key into the knob, she pushed open the door with her foot, and wrapped an arm around Miguel's waist again.

  The inside of the cabin appeared to be one big room. In the fading twilight, she couldn't quite make out where everything was. She thought she saw a kitchen area to her right, and a fireplace in front of her. “Where's the bed?"

  "Left,” he said, obviously having trouble getting out that much.

  She managed to maneuver him across the room, find the double wooden bedstead, and get him mostly on it before he lost consciousness.

  CHAPTER 7

  Miguel awoke in darkness. Or near-darkness anyway—a dim light burned somewhere nearby. As he blinked scratchy eyes and swallowed past the cottony feel in his throat, he turned his head to sort out where he was. He realized he was lying in bed—he had a vague memory of falling into it before blacking out.

  Elizabeth.

  A rush of relief surged through him at the sight of her sitting in a chair next to him. She wore his black button-up shirt he'd given her earlier in the day, and had it tucked around her drawn-up, jean-clad knees.

  Her soft hand smoothed over his forehead and cheek. “How're you feeling?"

  "I'll live. How long was I out?"

  "A couple of hours. You lost so much blood you fainted."

  "Men don't faint,” he grumbled. He tried to lift his arm, and did, a few inches, but the dull ache in it warned him not to push too hard too fast. He was bare-chested and realized his upper arm was wrapped in bandages. “Did the bullet go all the way through?"

  "No. But I got it out."

  He whipped his head back toward her and stared. “You what?"

  She shrugged and gave him a weak smile that squeezed his heart. “I could see it. And you were passed out anyway, so I figured I might as well try. It came right out.” She picked up a cup from the bedside table and shook it. A metallic jingle came from inside it. “The worst part was getting the bleeding stopped. I ... Well, I finally had to do something that was..."

  Miguel understood, and a rush of gratitude and amazement filled him at her ability to cope in a tough situation. “You cauterized it?"

  She nodded. “But I don't want to talk about it.” A tremor shook her, and he had the sudden urge to pull her close.

  He started to reach for her, but then it hit him. “Why are you still here?"

  Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?"

  A glance at the table next to the bed confirmed what he'd noticed moments earlier when she'd lifted the cup with the slug in it. His gun and cell phone lay side by side.

  "I was out cold. You found my phone. All you had to do if you wanted to get out of here was call your dad. Or the Mexican feds. They would have come to get you and you'd be back in your father's arms by now."

  He watched a myriad of emotions cross her face, as if she were coming to terms with something or trying to decide what to say to him. “I couldn't leave you like this,” she finally whispered. “You were hurt and if I called anyone, they'd find you and then you'd get arrested. And I couldn't live with that. I can't stand the thought of you being locked up in some jail or prison."

  Miguel's chest tightened with emotion. The little fool. She thought he was a criminal, so she'd given up her own chance at freedom in order to save his. “You could have left, taken the Explorer."

  "I told you, I couldn't leave. I didn't want to leave. I just ... I just need to be here with you. And besides, you said even if I went back to Acapulco Galista's men would find me."

  "The feds could have protected you."

  "So can you,” she said simply.

  "Not when I'm unconscious, damn it.” He didn't know why he was arguing. He was so glad she was still here he was almost giddy.

  She smiled, and it was a gentle gleam of light in the otherwise gray room. “You're kind of an argumentative patient, aren't you?"

  "And you're a stubborn nurse,” he growled, but he couldn't seem to get any real irritation behind it.

  "Here...” She picked up two tablets from the table, along with a glass of water. “Take these."

  "What are they?"

  "Pain relief."

  "No way. The last damned thing I need is to be drugged."

  "They're not narcotics. Just ibuprofen.” She lifted his head, put the tablets in his mouth, and held the glass while he swallowed some water.

  "Now go back to sleep for a while,” she ordered.

  "I'm not tired."

  "Humor me."

  It was the last thing he remembered.

  At least until he next woke up, again in the semi-darkness. He finally realized the dim light was burning in the bathroom.

  Elizabeth wasn't in the chair next to the bed this time, and worry shot through him. Where was she and was she okay?

  But then he heard a sigh next to him. He turned over, careful not to jar his arm, although it was feeling considerably better now than it had earlier.

  What he saw brought a smile to his face. Elizabeth was curled onto her side, her head on the pillow next to his, sound asleep.

  Damn she was a sight. And she smelled wonderful—slightly soapy with a faint hint of spice. Not her usual scent, but still nice. She'd obviously taken a shower before she came to bed. Her hair was damp, and the dark waves spread out on the pillow around her. He stroked a few strands off her forehead.

  She stirred, stretching her lithe body. “What time is it?” she asked without opening her eyes.

  Miguel looked at his watch. “Two in the morning."

  "It's June twenty-first. This was supposed to be my wedding day."

  A punch to the gut couldn't have caught him more off guard, or caused such an ache. Here he was getting drunk at the sight and smell of her next to him, and she was thinking of her ruined wedding. “I'm sorry it didn't work out for you."

  Her eyes fluttered open, and, for a moment, time seemed to stop. The look she gave him was mesmerizing, sending hope, and heat, flooding through him.

  "I'm not. I never felt with Lionel the things I feel when I'm with you. I've never felt them with anyone but you."

  "Like?” His heart throbbed in anticipation of her next words.

  "Like how you really listen to me when I talk. How you make me feel beautiful."

  "You are beautiful."

  "How you make me hot and quivery all over when you look at me ... like you're doing right now."

  He barely dared to breath. He was feeling hot and quivery himself at the moment.

  "And how I feel safe with you. How I trust you."

  Miguel knew right then he'd tell her everything. He wanted to be worthy of her trust. With Ramirez's betrayal and Galista soon to find, if he hadn't already,
his surveillance camera on the mesa, there was no more need to pretend. His cover was blown to hell. He needed, and wanted, Elizabeth to know the truth. And then he just had to hope she wouldn't hate him for misleading her. God knows she had every reason to hate him after what she'd been through the past two days.

  "There are some things I want you to know, Elizabeth."

  She put her fingers over his lips. “There are some things I need to know. But right now I just really want you to kiss me."

  "Kiss you?"

  "No, not just kiss...” Her breathing came out in soft rasps, and he could almost smell arousal mixing with her freshly-showered scent. “I want you to do all those things to me you said you wanted to do out at the hot spring."

  Fuck. Boiling blood rushed through his veins with a ferocity he'd never experienced in all his thirty-six years. “Do you have any idea what you're saying?"

  "Yes."

  He stroked his thumb over her lips, and lowered his mouth to hers. Then he pulled her on top of him and slid his hands up under his shirt she wore, discovering, with another jolt of lust, that she wore absolutely nothing else. His palms fondled the soft curves of her ass, and she responded with a quiver.

  "You're not wearing any underwear,” he growled.

  "I only have the one stupid pair I don't even like, and I have to wash them sometime."

  "I might get rid of the damned things completely if it means you'll always come to bed like this.” He tugged the shirt off, exposing every inch of her skin to his hungry touch. “Or even better, maybe I'll just get rid of all your clothes and keep you this way—naked."

  "Maybe I'll do the same to you.” She sat up, unfastened his jeans, and, in a smooth movement, pulled them and his briefs down his legs and tossed them aside. His twitching cock jutted upward, already hard.

  Their gazes locked.

  "We still have the issue of no protection."

  "Actually...” She leaned over to the bedside table and held up a strip of foil packages. “Your cousin seems to have come through for us in more ways than one."

  Miguel laughed. “I see you did some industrious snooping while I was unconscious."

  "A girl does what she can."

  She gave him a dimpled smile that set his balls to aching and filled him with a warmth inside he hadn't ever known.

  "You're injured,” she said, “so you'd better let me do the work for now."

  With another one of those sweet yet completely naughty smiles, she lowered her head to his groin. He couldn't hold back a moan when her tongue, hot and wet, stroked over the head of his cock, then worked its way downward, laving him from tip to root. She bathed his balls, then slowly licked her way back to the top, only to start the process all over again. By the time she'd played with his testicles a second time and returned to his crown, he was slick and throbbing and desperate to test the depths of that wondrous mouth.

  When she finally sucked his length deep into her throat, he grasped her head, dug his fingers into her unruly curls, and pulled her closer. A groan tore out of him. She seemed to know exactly what to do to bring him maximum pleasure. Yet at the same time there was almost an innocence about her touch that filled him with a protective possessiveness.

  His brain began to blank out, brain cell by brain cell, his shaft tingled and pulsed, and her incredible mouth became the only point of existence in his world. But at the last minute, before he was too far gone to stop, he pulled her up. “Not yet. I told you where I plan to be the next time I come."

  He rolled over and took her with him until she lay on her back. With her arms up over her head and her legs spread, it was all he could do not to thrust into her right then. But the sight of her pussy spread open to him as it had been in the barn was a temptation he couldn't pass up. He moved between her legs and burrowed a finger between her labia, shocked at just how wet she was. She closed her eyes and a soft moan escaped her.

  "You like that?"

  "Yes."

  "Want more?"

  "You know I do."

  He stroked his fingers over her pussy lips, circled her clit, then plunged them deep into her cunt. She cried out.

  "More?"

  "Oh, yes...” This time it was breathless gasp, and he smiled.

  He lowered his head to her sweet-scented crease and, with his fingers still working inside her, teased his tongue through her steamy folds.

  She squirmed against him, but he had no intention of making it too easy for her. They had all night.

  With her pussy dripping cream, he used that to his advantage. Even as he continue to taste her, he nudged his thumb into her vagina, and moved his wet fingers lower, sliding them over and around her anus until she bucked against him and begged.

  Only then, when her softly panted, “Please, please,” filled his head, did he ease his middle finger into her tight, sinfully hot passage. After giving her body time to adjust, and feeling her muscles relax, he slowly pressed a second finger in to join the first, spreading her, stretching her, preparing her for the much bigger pleasures he hoped to give her later.

  As he did that, he sucked on the firm bud of her clit. She came hard, her back arching off the bed, both her openings clamping down against his hand. He withdrew his mouth, letting her climax take her, growing more aroused himself simply by watching her find her heaven.

  When she'd collapsed to the bed, he began moving his fingers and thumb again, wanting to bring her back to the summit at least once more, for the sheer pleasure of it ... hers and his. He'd learned in the barn how damned responsive she was, and how easily she could have multiple orgasms if he gave her a chance. Knowing she was getting close again, he probed her swollen nub with his tongue, and within seconds, she shattered again, sobbing his name over and over.

  Miguel didn't know if it was the sobs, his name, or both that did it, but something inside him tore lose. And he realized, with a drunken sense of shock, that for the first time in many long years, he was free of the old anger and hurt left over from Rosalinda's betrayal. He felt ... cleansed. Ready to live, and love, again. He smiled as he moved up over Elizabeth's limp, sated body and pressed a kiss to her parted lips.

  "Do you still want me inside you?"

  Her eyes opened, and the hunger he saw in them was answer enough even before she spoke. “Yes. Always."

  He ripped open one of the packages on the table and rolled the condom onto his so-stiff-it-ached cock. Then he positioned himself so the tip pressed gently against her slippery flesh. “Always?"

  Her gaze burned into his. She grasped his ass cheeks in her hands and pulled him toward her. “Always."

  Inch by inch, her squeezing tunnel swallowed his engorged, throbbing penis. When he was fully seated, neither of them moved. Her core gripped him, tugged him, held him tight. So tight he grew lightheaded at how spectacularly good it felt, at how perfectly they fit together.

  When at last he moved, she moved with him. When he pulled out, then thrust back into her, she lifted her hips and met him with a passion that enthralled him.

  Their bodies surged together, over and over, slick with sweat and sexual heat. The scent of the cool mountain night and musky arousal swirled over them. Elizabeth's legs curved around his hips and he lifted her ass, giving himself a better angle at her, feeling the tip of his shaft probe against the top of her canal. She whimpered, obviously liking it. He was pretty sure she was close to climax again. Damn, she was a wonder.

  Heat built in his balls where they slapped against her. His cock was so swollen it felt as if it were going to explode.

  "Is this the part where you shoot your come deep inside me?” Elizabeth gasped. “Because that's what I want. You said every orifice."

  Her words nearly drove him to madness. “I don't say things I don't mean,” he growled.

  "Then do it now!"

  Her body convulsed around him as she peaked. The surging contractions deep in her cunt were all he needed to finish him off. As he pistoned into her, his semen burst from his cock i
n seemingly never-ending waves. Her hot, squeezing sheath demanded he give up every last droplet, and refused to be satisfied by anything less. By the time he was dry he could barely groan in exhaustion.

  When they lay tangled together on the damp sheets, struggling for air, he pulled off the condom and snuggled her against him.

  "I don't think I can breathe, Miguel."

  "Neither can I."

  She brushed her fingertips over his chest, then rose on one elbow and looked down at him, concern, but also sated passion, etched on her face. “Are you okay? We didn't hurt you, did we?"

  "If I say I still hurt, will you kiss it and make it better?"

  Her soft laughter lit him up from the inside out.

  "Kiss what and make it better?"

  "Whatever aches."

  "Mmmm, I see, so you're going to take advantage of my sweet nature and tender nursing skills, are you? Might I remind you that I'm a very well-read woman. My knowledge on just how to make it feel better might be extensive, for all you know. It might be more than you could handle.” She bit her lip, and he could tell it was to keep from smiling.

  He buried a hand in her soft, thick hair and tugged her close enough for a kiss, which she let him take without complaint.

  "And you think this knowledge of yours scares me?"

  "A strong, bossy man like you ... I don't know. You tell me."

  Her nails scraped over his nipples, bringing them to small, hard points. And damned if his cock didn't give a stir in spite of its recent milking.

  "Bossy? You think I'm bossy?"

  "You sure growl a lot of orders.” Her voice lowered in a sassy imitation of what he supposed was him. “Do this. Do that. No arguments.” She smiled. “Didn't anyone ever tell you you can catch more flies with sugar than vinegar?"

  Miguel chuckled. “Are you a fly?"

  One of her delicate eyebrows rose in challenge. “Do I look caught?"

  He rolled her onto her back and pinned her down. Her breasts thrust against his chest, and her legs opened automatically to accommodate him. “Let me think ... Yes, you look well caught, and damned delicious."