When Rafe comes out, though, he’s dressed. No sexy towel slung around his hips. No damp skin. He looks at me, and his eyes are a bit red-rimmed, and my heart aches for him. Then, he looks away and gestures at the door. “You should go hang with Bennito. Help him with the project.”
I sit up in bed, extending my legs because I know he likes to look at them. “I want to stay with you, Rafe. Please, talk to me.” I pat my side of the bed, indicating he should sit.
He grabs the TV remote and shakes his head. “I’m not in the mood, Ava.” He sits at a nearby table, flicks the TV on, and focuses his grim gaze on it.
Loud Spanish jabber from a TV show fills the room. I watch Rafe, but he seems determined to focus on the TV instead of me. I sit up and crawl forward on the bed. “Rafe, come on.”
“No, Ava.” His voice becomes hard and he finally looks at me again. His jaw flexes, and his entire expression is one of anger. “I don’t have time for a pity fuck right now, all right? You’ll still get Rose back, okay? No need to bargain with your body anymore.”
Each word slams into me like a fist. I gasp and recoil back on the bed, hurt making tears spring to my eyes again. “Fine,” I choke out. I gather my plastic bag full of things and contemplate where I can go. In the other room with Bennito, a stranger, so he can give me pitying looks, knowing I’ve been kicked out? I change my mind and head for the bathroom instead. If Rafe can hide in the shower, I can, too.
“Ava,” Rafe says, voice weary, but I slam the door behind me and lock it. I immediately turn the water on to drown out my tears, and wipe my eyes. Fuck him. Fuck all of this. I strip my clothing off and get in the shower. It’s ice cold and I don’t care. I still wash up, because being clean is a luxury. I shave everything—arms, legs, and even run the razor over my pussy, shaving everywhere. Fuck it.
By the time I turn the water off, I’m calm. Funny how an ice-cold shower can restore clarity to a hot temper. As I towel off, I realize what Rafe’s doing.
He’s pushing me away. He’s hurting, and he’s trying to push me out. And I’ve been too wrapped up in the fact that he’s lashing out at me to realize that this isn’t like him. This isn’t the man that’s so carefully thoughtful of me. The man who’d rather swim a crocodile-infested river with a knife wound in his back than put me out. The man who’d rather eat my pussy all night than dream of inflicting a bit of pain on me.
The man who went thirty-five years without touching a woman because he was afraid of hurting them.
I think of his scars on his groin and his chest. I think of the hints he’s dropped about his awful mother, and the girl that died when he tried to fuck her. I think of the boys that came after him and punished him.
Everyone he’s cared for has hurt him or died on him. No wonder he’s all fucked up at the moment.
That won’t be me, I decide. I dig through my bag and find the lubricant. It’s a cheap off brand I’ve never seen, but lube is lube. I pull the tiny tube out of the package and leave the bathroom behind.
I’m not letting him push me out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
AVA
I saunter out of the bathroom, completely naked, and prop my arms against the doorframe. The tiny bottle of lube is in my hand, hidden. And I wait for Rafe to notice me. My pose makes my breasts thrust into the air, and I bend one knee so my hips are canted slightly in a sexy angle. Rafe might be a freshly deflowered virgin, but I’m skilled at this sort of thing, and he does not know what he’s up against.
It doesn’t take long for Rafe’s attention to swing to me. Once it does, I see him blink, see his gaze move over my naked body, from my jutting breasts to the freshly smooth mound of my pussy. That gets his attention. I watch the lust flare in his eyes, and then his jaw clenches again and he forces himself to look away.
But there’s one thing about Rafe that’s super obvious, and I can see his cock springing to life in his pants even if he’s trying to deny me. Encouraged, I saunter forward. “I know how your mind works, Rafe,” I say in a sultry voice, moving to his side of the bed. “I know you’re trying to shut me out, because you’re hurting, and maybe you’re scared of losing more people. But here’s the thing with me. I don’t like being shut out. I need you. I need you in more ways than just this stupid transaction. I need you to hold me, too. I need you to touch me and love me, and distract me. To remind me of the good things in life even when the bad things happen.”
I stand there, next to his side of the bed, and wait.
He stares at me a little longer (mostly at my pussy) and then rubs a hand over his mouth. “We’re not doing this.”
All right. I’m not a woman without a plan, and if he’s going to play hardball, I am, too.
He closes his eyes and leans back against the headboard. “It isn’t safe for you to be here with me, Ava. Trust me.”
“Oh, I trust you.” And since his eyes are still closed, it’s time for me to put my plan into action. I open the bottle of lube and squirt a fair bit onto my hands, then rub them together to warm it. His face turns toward me, but he’s still keeping his eyes closed.
He thinks he can win this game, does he? He has no idea who he’s up against. I slide my oily hands over my breasts, greasing them up, and tug at my nipples. “Mmmm,” I breathe, making the sound as sexy as I can. Truth is, I’m getting pretty turned on at performing for Rafe. I want to see his eyes light up at what I do. I want to distract him from his misery. I want him to connect with me again. And if it means being dirty, raunchy, cock-needy Ava? That’s what I’ll do.
His gaze goes to my breasts, now slippery and bouncing against my hands. I see the moment his mouth goes dry, his eyes darken with hunger. His hand slides down to his cock and he presses against it as if adjusting himself. “What are you doing, Ava?”
“Convincing you that you want to touch me.” I stroke my fingers over my nipples, hardening the tips, and then slide my hands down to my pussy. I know I’m leaving a wet, shiny streak of lube all over my body. Don’t care. The fascination in his eyes is enough for me. “It’s not a pity fuck,” I tell him. “It’s not me fucking you for Rose. It’s me fucking you because I like fucking you. And because you turn me on. And I need you.”
My fingers slide between my folds. I’m a little wet, but the lube helps things. I move to the table and squirt a bit more into my hand, and I know Rafe’s watching my every move now.
And because I’m feeling daring, I turn around and bend over, spread my legs, and present him with my ass. My fingers slide between my legs and I push them into my pussy, knowing he’s getting a face full of the sight. It’s a total porn-star move, but it’s also turning me on like mad, because I’m picturing how much I’m blowing his mind. My fingers slick in and out of my sex, and I moan at the wet sounds they make.
“Fuck, Ava,” Rafe groans. I feel his hands grab my hips, and it’s the first move he’s made to touch me since Garcia’s awful death. “Tell me not to touch you, baby. Tell me that you’re better without me.”
“I need you, Rafe.” I work my fingers in my pussy faster. I need him, and I need the orgasm he can give me. After taking Rafe’s monster cock? My fingers feel like the saddest substitute.
“Tell me I can fuck you,” he growls, and I feel his teeth rake over my buttock, sending a shiver of need through me.
Oh God, yes please. “I want you to fuck me with that big Godzilla dick of yours.”
He groans and tugs my hand out of my pussy, and my fingers leave with a wet, needy sound. “Get on the bed,” he commands.
Okay, that’s hot. He’s in control, and it makes my nipples tighten and my body ache with more need. I get on the bed on all fours, not caring that I’m probably getting cheap lube all over the hotel blankets. Fuck the blankets. I hunch down on my elbows and stick my ass in the air for him, spreading my legs wide.
I hear Rafe fumbling with his pants, hear the zipper go down and the rustle of fabric. I don’t want him to second-guess anything. I want him mindless and inside m
e, so I slide a hand back to my pussy again and push my cheek against the bedsheets. “You want inside this pussy? Rafe? It needs your cock so bad. It’s aching for you.” God, I hope Bennito can’t hear our dirty talk in the next room.
Actually, I don’t care. Let Bennito know that Rafe’s nailing me. I’ll share it with the world if I need to. He’s sexy as hell, my mercenary.
Rafe makes an agonized sound, and I feel the thick, enormous head of his cock press against the entrance to my sex. “Tell me to fuck you, Ava.”
“Fuck me.”
He pushes, and I tense a little, expecting a taut sort of pain like before. But there’s nothing. I’m stretched wide for him, and I’m needy and lubed up, and I cry out because he feels so freaking amazing I can’t stand it.
Over me, Rafe freezes. “Ava?”
“Good,” I moan. “Oh so fucking good. Fuck me hard, Rafe. I need you to pound into me.” I wiggle back against him to show that I mean it.
He makes another agonized sound that’s not quite a groan, and not quite my name. He slams into me with Godzilla, and it’s shocking and so incredibly good that I cry out again. Now I’m positive Bennito can hear us fucking.
Still not caring.
Again, Rafe thrusts into me. “You’re so fucking tight—”
“Tight for you,” I pant. “My pussy’s just for you, baby.”
“Fuck,” he growls. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
“You feel better,” I tell him. “So big and thick, I can feel you all through me. I love your big, fat cock, baby. Love how good it makes me feel. Love—”
“Fuck,” he says again, and I’ve forgotten all about the fact that Rafe’s not too experienced with sex, because he shudders over me, coming. His hands clasp my hips tightly, and he grinds his cock into me as he orgasms.
And really, it’s still okay that he’s come after a few quick thrusts. I know how to get mine. “Keep moving,” I tell him, and reach between my spread thighs to touch my clit.
“Goddamn, Ava,” he says, but his entire body shakes as he gives me another halfhearted thrust. Even Rafe’s limp dick is still better than most dicks, and I rub my clit faster, moving in tiny, fast circles helped along by the lube that’s all over my hands. He grinds into me again, and I suck in a breath, because now I’m coming, too. My toes curl and I whimper loudly as he pants over me.
Even a messy fuck with Rafe’s still amazing. It takes me a few minutes to come down from the orgasm, and he’s still slowly pumping into me with his half chub. I can feel the slippery wetness of his come all over where we’re joined, and I moan, because he’s sending happy aftershocks through my body with every slide of his cock inside me.
“Can I hold you?” he asks, voice hoarse.
“I’d be pissed if you didn’t,” I tell him, and he moves down on the bed next to me, and pulls me against him. I’m the smaller spoon, and his cock is pressing against my backside, slick and hot, and still stirring. Rafe can keep a hard-on longer than any guy I’ve ever known. Maybe it’s because of his size.
He reaches around and holds me against him, his hands going to my breasts. I feel his breath on my neck, and he kisses it softly. “I’m sorry.”
I squeeze his hand, and in the process, squeeze my own boob. “What are you sorry for?”
“That I said those things—”
“Shh,” I tell him. “I know you didn’t mean it. I know you love me,” I tease, trying to keep him smiling.
“God,” he says softly, and kisses my neck again. “You’re incredible.”
“You are, too. I don’t understand why you don’t think so.”
He’s silent for a long moment. Then, he strokes his fingers over my shoulder reverently. His voice is low as he begins to speak. “My mother was raped when she was sixteen but her family is devoutly religious. They would not allow her to get an abortion. She hated me. I don’t blame her. I was the evidence of everything that had gone wrong in her life. She poured herself into the church and told me to avoid the opposite sex. My dick was monstrous, she’d said, and that it was a sign that I’d been born evil. Cursed.”
“That’s not true.” I hug his arms against me tightly.
“Really?” He’s miserable. “Because the one time I did try to have sex, I killed a girl.”
“You say that but there’s no possible way. Did you see her die in front of you?”
He shakes his head. “Two days later. Her brothers came for me and said she didn’t wake up. That the doctors told them she’d hemorrhaged internally for two days and died as a result.”
“You couldn’t have done that damage, not how you described it. Unless you lied to me.” I know he didn’t but he needs to hear it.
“No, never,” he says hoarsely. “I barely touched her . . . but there was the blood and then . . .” He trails off.
“You didn’t kill her. I don’t believe it and you need to stop beating yourself up with it. Here’s the thing,” I say, tracing a finger over the thick veins in his hands. I’ve got such a thing for hands and I love his big, rough ones. “When you’re hurting, I want you to come to me. I want you to trust me. We’ve got each other in this, you know?”
“Garcia,” he says, voice quiet and full of pain.
“I know, baby,” I tell him softly. “I know. Whatever happens, we can’t shut each other out, okay? I feel like I’ve lost Rose.” I choke up a little, and swallow it down. Now’s not the time. “I don’t want to lose you, too.”
I feel him nod against my neck, and he holds me tighter. “You’re it, Ava.”
“Hmm?” I don’t understand.
“Nothing,” he says. “Just something Garcia was saying.”
I stroke his hand with my slippery one. I ignore the lube all over us, just like I ignore the sweat that’s making our skin stick together. He holds me close—no, he’s clutching me against him as if I’m a lifeline. He’s breaking my heart, my big, strong guy. From what I know of Rafe, he doesn’t love easily, and I don’t know how he’s going to handle the loss of his best friend.
I’d do anything to make it better for him. Anything.
But for now? All I can do is love him and remind him that life’s worth living.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
RAFAEL
I towel off as Ava finishes up in the shower. She is asking impossible things of me. And worse, I want to give them to her. My mother had said that I needed to spend the rest of my days atoning for the people I had killed. My unborn baby sister. The high school girl. When I came home on leave, my mother would cross herself as I passed over the doorway and sprinkle holy water outside the door to cast out the demons I had carried home with me.
The souls of those who’d died at my hand clung to me, she claimed. I believed her then and believe her now, because Garcia’s death hangs around my neck like an anvil.
Ava’s sweet face is so hopeful when she speaks of Rose and even if she won’t admit to it, not saving Rose will change things. I know this and deep down, I believe that Ava knows it, too.
But there is no point in dwelling on this. Tomorrow will happen, no matter what I do today. What shape it is, who I have with me? I can change that. In the next room, Bennito is bent over the table, drawn away from his computer.
“Dude, you sounded like you were killing her in there.” He holds up his hand to high-five me. Glad that Ava isn’t here, I grunt a nonresponse and take the chair opposite.
He leans over the table. “We always joke about who’s got the bigger gun, but it’s always been you, hasn’t it?”
“Yes.” And suddenly I get all the jokes. The pie jokes. The baseball jokes. The boning jokes. I heard them before, but now they have context and meaning. Heft.
“Cool.” He sits back and looks at me more admiringly than ever before. Because I have a big gun and know how to use it. There’s something wrong with that thinking. Something I’m going to have to talk to Bennito about so when he finds his Ava, he doesn’t screw it up with his machismo. But for now, we sha
re a moment for a few seconds before I flick my fingers at the items he has laid out on the table.
“What have you found?”
His attention is easily diverted. “Shit, this is some cool stuff. You remember how each of the folders had small sticky flags?” I nod. On each page, there are two or three translucent flags with colored tabs that matched the folder. “Well they aren’t fucking notes. You stick them together, like so.” He holds up a small stack. “They form a fucking USB chip. Wild, huh?”
Spy shit. It’s the weirdest shit in the world.
“How do you stick it into a USB port if it’s that thin?” I pick up the tab. Now that Bennito has pointed it out, it did have more rigidity than an ordinary Post-it flag, but it still looked paper thin. I couldn’t see any circuitry, either.
“You don’t. It works through a receiver. The receiver works in tandem with the USB stack. It’s pretty genius whoever designed this. I know that USBs were getting smaller but I swear that this was only a concept design. The flag is made of grapheme, which is a single layer of carbon atoms packed into a honeycomb pattern. The conductive layer is at the end.”
I scrub a hand over my face. “Duval sends out his mule with the sales information but his buyers can’t access the information without the receiver.”
“Exactly.” Bennito nods. “But if he’s going to sell the information, then the receiver must not be encrypted.”
“Is there any way to copy the data from the USB to our computer?”
“Not really. The information can only be read through the corresponding receiver.”
“We need Duval, then.”
“Or the receiver.”
“And how many bodyguards does he have with him?”
“Twelve, and then there are the multiple goons surrounding his buyers. The Manish Hotel Ecológico is overrun with black-suited, earpiece-wearing foreigners. Looks like a hit-man convention.”
Last Hope Page 21
