He rose from the chair. He retrieved the candle from the desk and put it on the bedside table, then sat down beside her. Lightning illuminated the cheap nylon curtains and danced in his eyes, which were fixed on hers with an intensity that made her breath catch.
She thought he was about to touch her, could almost feel the brush of his fingertips. Instead he slowly spread his hand over hers.
“See?” he said as she examined his knuckles. “Fine.”
She traced the tip of her finger around back of his hand, then up to the forearm exposed by the rolled-up sleeve of his shirt. His skin looked golden in the candlelight. She pulled her knees beneath her, moved her hands to grip the defined muscles of his arms and pressed her lips to the hollow at the base of his neck.
He released a shaky breath, and as he clenched his fists in his lap she realized how much power was in this man, how much force of will it took him to restrain it. The thought should have frightened her, given her doubts about his ability to control himself, made her think twice about bringing him into her bed again.
Instead she found it unspeakably erotic.
She undid the first two buttons on his shirt, and he made quick work of the rest, shucking it off and tossing it to the floor. She spared a second to take in the masculine perfection revealed, then trailed her lips across the line of his shoulder, drinking in the scent of his skin. When she reached the swell of his triceps she drew back, and he used the moment to tilt her chin so their gazes met. His gray eyes were hazy with desire, lips slightly parted, and the speed with which he pulled her to straddle his lap was belied by the softness of his touch.
She could feel every contour of the fly on his jeans through her thin pajamas, and at the press of his erection she had to stop herself from brazenly grinding against him. Her hands drifted across the hard contours of his chest and his mouth captured hers. As she tilted her face to give his tongue access she imagined how it would feel when he penetrated another, infinitely more sensitive part of her. She moaned at the image, unable to help herself as she closed her thighs more tightly around his narrow hips.
His hands traveled up her ribcage from their place on her hipbones, dragging the hem of her camisole with them. When the top caught over her breasts she broke the kiss and leaned back, looking him dead in the eye as she yanked the camisole over her head.
She’d long considered her full breasts to be her best physical asset, but his reaction made her feel far more attractive than anyone else ever had. Rather than the greedy, salivating look that had come over most of her previous lovers’ faces, his expression was full of reverence, gratitude and privilege. Like he hadn’t just seen them last night—like he thought he might never be allowed to see them again.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, barely above a whisper, as he reached out and stroked her cheek.
She smiled, her heart swelling with tenderness at these soft words from a hard man. Yet in the next instant her face contorted with pleasure as he brought his lips to her breast, laving her nipple with his tongue. She dug her fingers into his thick, glossy hair as the dampness of his mouth was replicated threefold between her legs, accompanied by a hot, insistent ache.
She reached between them and fumbled with his zipper, the urgency of desire making her hands clumsy and uncertain. He pulled back and gently slid out from under her, standing to undo the button and kick off his jeans. His arousal made a large, enticing shape in his light-blue boxers, and as she reached to tug down the waistband he stepped back, just out of reach. When she looked up, he wore a playful smile.
“Lie down.”
She eased onto her back, her sense of sensual excitement warring with her urge to make love to him as soon as possible.
He pulled her shorts down her legs so quickly that she gasped in surprise. Then he pressed lightly on the insides of her knees to part her thighs, and before she could fully process his intention his mouth closed on her core.
The guttural, primal moan that tore from her throat was entirely involuntary, and unlike anything she’d ever heard from her own mouth. His index finger moved inside her as his tongue stroked her clit, and within seconds she was seeing stars. She fought the looming climax, but it was like trying to stop a wave from crashing on the shore. Within seconds her whole body tensed and shook beneath his touch.
When the room stopped spinning he was running his lips over her abdomen, his hands sweeping over her ribs to caress her breasts. To her surprise, the simmering filaments of passion began to thread across her skin again, and as his fingertips closed on her nipple she felt the throb of arousal between her legs even though she’d had barely minutes to recover.
She heaved to a sitting position and shoved her hand beneath his thin cotton boxers. As her fingers closed on his hot, hard length, the urgency that had been momentarily dismissed came flooding back.
She kissed him. Hard. And then she whispered, close enough that their noses were almost touching, “I need you inside me.”
Something resembling a bear-like growl rumbled in Warren’s throat, and he brought her down to her back on the bed as he yanked off his boxers. He kissed her deeply, the pressure of his lips communicating all the emotion that brewed unsaid between them, and then suddenly pulled away to sit back on his haunches as he slapped his palm against his forehead.
“I don’t have any protection.” Abject despair strained his voice.
“It’s okay. I do.”
She leaned over to the nightstand and reached into the drawer for her makeup bag and the few emergency condoms stashed inside. He extended his hand to take the foil packet, but she snatched it away so he couldn’t reach, quickly confirming the expiry dates in the dim candlelight. Satisfied, she tore off a corner of one packet with her teeth.
She motioned him closer. “Let me do it.”
She felt his gaze fixed on her as she leaned over and slowly, slowly rolled the latex down over his erection. Then his hand fisted in her hair and in one smooth motion he flipped her onto her back and pushed inside her, his first thrust so swift and deep that she cried out in surprise.
He froze above her, his muscles taut and trembling with the pressure of his restraint. “Are you okay? Was that too soon?”
She rocked her head back and forth, her mind so overwhelmed with the swollen fullness of him embedded at the apex of her thighs that she could barely form words.
“Don’t stop,” she gasped, her fingers finding his hips and pressing him deeper.
Her words unleashed something wild in him. He plunged into her with a hunger she thought might never be satiated, his strokes confident and strong and determined, steadily marching them both toward the edge of a cliff.
She closed her eyes as she opened herself completely, giving him everything within her. Her control slipped from her grasp and its loss was delicious, as she let her body be utterly possessed, consumed by sensation, giving herself wholly to this dangerous man with the quiet voice and strange eyes.
The cliff edge was nearer now, and her pace toward it quickening. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, crossed her ankles behind his back, thrust up her pelvis to meet each one of his strokes more deeply than the last.
He breathed her name. Thunder boomed outside the window. The candle flickered, the wind howled and together they tumbled, hand-in-hand, into the void.
Warren lost all sense of time as he lay on his back, staring up at the candlelight dancing across the ceiling. Nicola curled into his side, her head on his shoulder, her hair spilling over his arm in soft coppery waves. He had no idea how long they’d been lying there, tangled together after their passion was finally exhausted, and he didn’t care. He could stay right where he was forever and be sublimely happy.
And that’s what’s different, he considered, idly tucking her hair behind her ear. He wasn’t distracted, or annoyed, or impatient, or eager to move on with his evening. He didn’t have the urge to get up
to ensure he hadn’t missed any messages on his phone, and he didn’t feel he had to make conversation or worry about whether the woman he was with still wanted to be there. He was peaceful and content and fully engaged in the moment. For once.
He was also more physically sated than he could remember being in a long time—possibly ever. Nicola was everything he’d imagined she would be as a lover—self-assured, sensual, exciting. The strength and energy of her personality translated into a confident, vibrant sexual partner, and he’d felt free to respond with equal vigor.
Her hand was splayed over his heart, and he spread his own on top of it. There was unfamiliar but delicious warmth in his chest, which filled his ribcage and surrounded his lungs. He’d never been so content, so comfortable, so free to be exactly who he was.
He wasn’t certain, but he thought this unusual emotion just might be love.
Nicola stirred slightly, shifting to drape one of her smooth, creamy calves over his leg. “I had no idea a blackout could be so much fun. You get them often in South Africa, don’t you?”
He smiled, wrapping his arm more tightly across her back. “We do.”
“Excellent,” she purred, and snuggled closer. After another few minutes’ silence, she asked, “You really love living in South Africa, huh? Power cuts and all?”
“Of course. It’s got its problems, like any country, and it can be a little rough around the edges, but I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. I know you’ve probably spent most of your time in Johannesburg high-rise offices or scrubby mines in the middle of nowhere, but you should visit the Transkei and walk along the wild coastline. Or rent a bike and cycle through the wine lands, stopping at so many vineyards you end up wobbling home. Or see the sunrise at Olifants camp in the Kruger and watch the light creep over the border with Mozambique. South Africa has some of the most beautiful places in the world.”
“I’d love to do all of that. I don’t get a lot of time off, but if I can ever grab a decent stopover in South Africa, maybe you’ll be my tour guide.”
His optimism faltered at the reminder that neither of them was likely to live within several thousand miles of each other in the near future, but he pushed those thoughts aside. He knew this was how it would be. He could handle it.
“Of course. Just say the word.”
She paused cryptically before asking her next question. “Is there anything else you would ever consider doing? Anything that would pry you out of the Special Task Force?”
He gave the notion the thought it deserved—and then gave her an honest answer. “I doubt it. Sometimes my colleagues are poached by private security companies, but the only tempting thing about that is the money, which I don’t care about. I guess if I ever left, it would be to join the SAS or the Israeli Special Forces. Something like that. But even that seems unlikely.” He shifted so he could see her face. “Why do you ask?”
“The Israeli Special Forces,” she repeated incredulously, shaking her head.
There it is. Goddammit. His heart sank as he recognized the note that always crept into the tone of every woman he’d been with. The moment they understood exactly what he did, what he’d committed his life to doing. In that instant it was real. It stopped being a sexy Hollywood story and became a relationship deal-breaker.
He pulled false nonchalance around him like a Kevlar vest and shrugged. “Lots of bombs to defuse.”
“And Cape Town?” she pressed. “You’re happy there?”
“Definitely.” He trailed his fingers through her hair as he spoke. “I can see the ocean from the front of my apartment and the mountains from the back. The beaches are amazing. And I told you about my sailboat, the catamaran. I race it down in False Bay.”
“Is it fast?”
“Very.”
“Sounds like a great life.”
“I’ll take you out on it when you come to Cape Town.”
She stiffened in his grip, and as they fell into an unexpectedly awkward silence, the casual, slightly flirty offer crashed between them like a lead weight.
She propped herself on one elbow. “Anyway, we’re just having fun, right?”
He flinched. Her comment shouldn’t have been unexpected, but he felt like a two-ton nail bomb had just exploded in his face. He fought to keep his expression even.
“Sure,” he finally replied with hard-won breeziness.
“I mean, I may not even have a job after all this, if we don’t get Hambani squared away. And if I do, it’ll be back to globetrotting. I may be at headquarters in London, or on assignments at Garraway’s mines in Australia or Canada. I may not get back to Africa at all this year.”
“I know that,” he retorted, more snappishly than he’d intended. His heart seemed to have worked its way loose from its place in his chest and was sinking into his stomach, which was nauseated and unsettled.
“Good.” She nodded. “So we’re on the same page.”
On the same page. What kind of stupid corporate speak was that? The room seemed smaller than it had a second ago, and his post-coital languor had given way to an itchy restlessness running through his limbs.
That old instinct was back. He had to get out.
As if on cue, there was the sound of a slight electric whirring, and then the room was flooded with bright artificial light as the power came back on. For the first time in his life, he felt overwhelming gratitude toward Africa’s unreliable national power grids.
“Right, so that’s that,” he muttered as he disentangled himself and slid off the bed, hastily yanking on his boxers and sweeping up the rest of his clothes from the floor. A cyclone of irrational anger, hurt and disgust at himself for being such a simpering fool was swirling within him, accelerating at such a speed that he was finding it hard to breathe.
“You’re going?” She sat up on the bed and pulled the sheet over her bare breasts.
“The lights are back on now. You don’t need me.”
As soon as the words left his mouth he realized what an odd thing it was to say—although it did have the ring of truth. Anyway, he didn’t have time to worry about pleasantries. He pushed it to the back of his mind and focused on fleeing the room without stumbling. He flung himself out of the cabin, clutching his shirt and jeans and hurrying so blindly to his own door that he cracked his shin against the step.
“Dammit,” he grumbled, shoving into his cabin and slamming the door shut behind him. The hairline crack Nicola’s rejection had put in his newfound happiness was beginning an ugly, rapid spread, and he knew it was just moments away from shattering into jagged-edged pieces.
He locked the door and flopped onto the bed, staring at the paneled ceiling but straining to hear movement from her side of the wall. Would she follow him? Would she coax him back to her side, having overcome her moment of panic and deciding he was worth the stress and anxiety that went hand-in-hand with his job? Or would she simply slide into bed beside him, unspeaking, content to enjoy their time together and leave the future undetermined?
After half an hour he concluded she wasn’t coming. He turned onto his side and flipped off the bedside light, trying to ignore the scent of her that still lingered on his skin.
Chapter Twelve
Warren hadn’t slept well, and he hadn’t slept long, so when he heard the knock that followed the zip of a golf cart pulling up to his door, he didn’t hurry to answer it. He was sick of this job, sick of this place, and if it weren’t for Nicola and his need to get her out of here safely, he would’ve packed his bags last night and left at first light this morning.
Alex stood on the front step, looking like he’d spent a worse night than Warren.
“Roger’s dead.”
He swore under his breath. He hoped to hell Roger had gotten mixed up with some dodgy creditors; otherwise the situation at the mine had just gone from troublesome to really, really bad.
“What happened?”
“Some guys on the dawn shift found him propped up in that safe in the office.”
The one Warren had filled with weapons the day before. “What was in the safe?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t let anyone move the body.”
“That’ll be easy—no one wants to go near it. They carved some kind of symbol into his forehead that’s keeping all the locals away.”
“Symbol?”
Alex nodded. “Cedric says it’s a goat.”
“Of course it is.” He rubbed his hand over his forehead. “Have you told Nicola?”
“She’s on the phone to her boss now.”
“We’ll meet you at the office when she’s finished, so I can have a look at the body. Tell Cedric and Dan to stay with you in the canteen. Safety in numbers.”
Alex shifted uneasily. “This isn’t good, huh?”
“Not really. But I’ve seen worse.”
“I haven’t,” Alex muttered, turning to walk back to the golf cart. As he sped away Warren went inside his cabin long enough to put on socks and boots, then knocked on Nicola’s door.
She was wearing pajamas when she answered, and clutching her cell phone in her right hand. Her face was pale, punctuated by dark circles under her eyes.
“Did Alex tell you about Roger?”
He nodded. She spun on her heel and started pacing the perimeter of the room. He followed her inside, closed the door and took a seat in the desk chair.
“I just spoke to the CEO,” she began in a tone that suggested recounting this conversation was as much for her own benefit as his. “He’s completely freaked out. He’s worried that shutting down the mine without knowing more about what we’re up against would create needless panic. I told him about the Matsulu angle and that seemed to make sense. He’s contacting the Latadi Minister of Mining to let him know. He thinks the Kibangu government will—”
“Respond with a military guard,” he finished for her, the pieces suddenly falling into place. He shook his head, furious with himself at not having seen the answer before.
Short Fuse: Elite Operators, Book 2 Page 14
