“Oh, you’re going to have me inside you, sweetheart,” he assured her, his voice low. “But I’m not giving this up quite yet. You think you can come for me? Come right up against my mouth?”
But Erin couldn’t quite hear his words right anymore, her pulse pounding in her ears. She tried to pull away, to get a breath, but Zander’s palm on her backside wouldn’t budge, and seemed to add to the problem, gliding her forward in long, rhythmic motions as his fingers and thumb slicked over her and the rough pressure of the silk thong abraded her frazzled nerve endings and her breasts ached for his touch, his mouth, his tongue.
His mouth. God, if he would just kiss her, she could hold off, she could keep it together. “Zander,” she gasped when she could finally draw in enough breath to speak. “Kiss me. I want to feel your mouth on—”
The sharpness of Zander’s next move cut her words off short.
Chapter 21
Zander’s brain short-circuited as he pulled Erin forward roughly until all the wet heat of her was right at his mouth. He could hear her startled protest, knew this position made her feel vulnerable—hell, it’d taken him months to convince her to do it the first time, which had only served to make him fantasize about it even more in his feverish mind on the long, hot desert marches, and during the even longer, cold-as-shit nights. But nothing in his most vivid memories compared to the reality of his mouth licking greedily now, his fingers impatiently shoving aside what was left of Erin’s pink thong as he buried his face between her legs as she knelt over him. She’d shaved herself smooth this morning, and that realization registered as fierce triumph, his cock giving an impatient jerk as he thought about Erin wondering if they’d get naked again, no matter how crazy everything was, no matter how nervous or scared or distracted she was. She still wanted him, still hoped to hook up with him again in some fucked-up corner of her mind. The same fucked-up corner he’d been pretty much living in since the moment he’d clapped eyes on her, not four days earlier.
“Zander.” Her voice was frantic, her control slipping, and he heard more nerves than he ever wanted to hear in Erin’s voice. She wasn’t used to this, to him, to his intensity, his need. So much greater than it had ever been when they’d made love as teenagers. Back then he’d been a stupid kid, not even knowing what he didn’t know. But now…
Still, he wanted to relax her, not freak her out. He shifted positions again and in one quick turn had her sprawled out on the bed again. She was so fucking light it made his head spin. He hadn’t even thought of that before seeing her again, hadn’t thought of the widening differences between their body sizes and what it would mean in sex. She’d always been a tiny thing, but now…fuck. There were seventy million things he wanted to try, or try again. He closed the gap between them in a rush, not giving her a chance to recover, and bent his head to draw his tongue along her wet slit. Erin’s hands tried to gain purchase in his short hair, gripping either side of his skull, and her whimpered protests as her body bucked beneath him told him he was close, so close, all he needed to do was ride it, ride it—
She broke then, a strangled scream escaping her mouth before she cut herself off, some synapse in her brain reminding her that they were still in a hotel room, not her bedroom, even as he kept her wound tight, shattering her over and over again, until she finally pushed him away with unmistakable urgency, her body half-curling into a protective ball as her eyes stared at him, glazed with pleasure and a need that was both dulled and intensified as she came off of the first crashing wave…
“I got you, darling,” Zander said. He rolled off the bed and scooped up his cargo shorts, pulling free the wrapped foil square. He wanted her to look at him like that every time she saw him, he decided. He’d die a happy man if he could just make that happen.
He was sheathed in an instant, and then he was back beside her, relief zinging through him as she reached for him, pulling him to her, all but gasping. “How do you…what do you—”
“Everything, babe.” He put out of his mind all of the seventy billion positions he wanted to try out, however, and just rolled Erin over onto her back, wanting to watch every moment of this, savor it.
“Zander, no, let me…” Erin pushed against his chest, and for one brief, harrowing flash he doubted himself again, doubted what she wanted, what she’d just said she needed, but he let her push him back only to realize that, Dear Holy Mother of God, she was climbing up on top of him again, her delicate body positioned right above his straining cock. She glanced from his shaft up to his face, and whatever was in his expression had her blushing furiously. “I want to try everything, too,” she said, looking down at him. “You good?”
“Yeah,” Zander managed to say before practically blacking out as she reached down to place his pulsing cock at her entrance. Even through the condom he could feel the inferno of her core, setting him on fire. “Babe…oh, man—” His voice broke off as Erin slid over him with a long, smooth push, her hips gliding forward as if to get better purchase, her breasts swaying gently, full and tantalizing.
“Mmmm.” She moved again and then giggled at the look on his face as his eyes drifted shut again. “Am I crushing you?”
That did make him laugh. “That’d be kind of impossible.” His gaze suddenly sharpened as Erin straightened on her perch, her small breasts firm and high, her body as slender as a dancer’s, and perfect. Just…perfect. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he muttered and that won him another shy smile.
Then Erin moved again, almost experimentally, grinding down deep over his cock with enough force that his eyesight dwindled down to a pinprick again. She moved her legs up, then down, then straightened her body out, her thighs pressed wide by his own legs as she leaned down over his chest, her face intent, distracted by her own pleasure. Pleasure that was winding him as tight as a drum. “Honey,” he said, and her glance toward him was as hazed as he felt. “If I ever ask, remind me how much I like this position with you, just for future reference.”
“Mmm. Like this?” She drew her body up, then plunged it back down over his cock, seating him so deeply within her that Zander felt himself at the precipice of his orgasm, which was showing up way the fuck too soon. “What about this?” She slipped off him just as quickly and turned toward the far wall, her backside to his face as she pressed herself over his cock again.
Zander’s hands dropped, locking onto her hips. “Jesus God, Erin. Don’t move or you’ll kill me.” Reverse cowgirl. She was fucking on top of him in reverse cowgirl. And she compounded that impossibility by chuckling low and deep in her throat, even as she tilted her ass up so he could see himself entering her, sliding deep inside her wet passage and then out again, the pressure building inside him impossible to ignore.
“I had a lot of time to…read,” she murmured. Or at least he thought that was what she said. He really couldn’t imagine the need for stringing any words together in a moment like this, when it was all he could do to just hold the fuck on. “I think I’m just supposed to…” And she moved then, again, in two, three, long, liquid thrusts, Zander’s gaze pinging from her bouncing hair to the curves of her shoulders, the long lines of her back, the flare of her perfect ass, an ass he was now gripping in a movement that wasn’t exactly helping matters, and he groaned when, at the top of her next thrust, she paused and then slipped off of him, the sudden release of pressure almost too much to bear.
Instead she turned back around and looked at him almost coyly, her mouth looking full and soft, her eyes bright, her breasts rising and falling rapidly. “We don’t know what’s going to happen next, Zander,” she said, excitement warring with panic in her voice. “What else would you like to try?”
“What?” he rasped, just wanting her wet heat around him again, tight and hard and so intense it made him breathless with want.
“I mean, how else do you want to make love?” Erin asked. “What all should we try?” She drew a soft hand down his abs, to where his cock bobbed impatiently, eager again for her touch. Her c
heeks were red, but she soldiered on. “Because I want to try it all, if we can.”
And suddenly, he got it. A need as old as life itself, the need to stave off whatever might happen next with so much pleasure and feeling and balls-out life that it would all be worth it, no matter what; that it would all be okay, no matter what. And Erin wanted to take that chance with him. She wanted to experience that rush, go that distance. So that no matter what the next hours brought, for this moment she would know that they were living life to its absolute limit, for as long as their hearts held out.
All seventy million positions came rushing back to Zander’s mind at once, and he reached for her.
“Works for me,” he growled.
It was over an hour later before they collapsed on the bed, every muscle spent. Zander reached over for Erin, smiling as she half-heartedly pushed his hand away.
“No you don’t,” he said, and he pulled her to him, wrapping her up in a bear hug. She giggled, but he felt the tension in her, and it suddenly occurred to him that there was always that tension in her, since the time he’d first met her. That hesitation, almost a fear, that made her seem constantly on edge, even when she was supposed to be relaxing, having fun.
He’d always let it go, before. He’d always been off on some new subject, some new idea. But he didn’t want to let it go anymore. He wanted to know everything about Erin, even the stuff she wanted no one to know, the stuff that she swept under the rug and turned her back on, the secrets that no one would check.
“Erin?”
“Hmmm?” she asked, snuggling into his arms. He kissed her softly on her messed up hair.
“What’s the worst thing that ever happened to you? That you can remember.”
Instantly, Erin froze, just as he’d known she would. She tried to slide out of Zander’s grasp, but he held her close. “Why?” she asked warily, shivering in his arms. “How can that matter?”
“Just humor me,” he murmured, laying his chin on her head. She stared at the wall so long that he thought she might have fallen asleep. Then, finally, she spoke.
“I guess…” She sighed. “I guess it was being alone. My mom started leaving me alone in the house when I was six.”
That stopped him. “What?”
“In the house. Our house. Before Gran Ginny. From the time I was six years old or so, she’d go out for one night, sometimes two. Sometimes more. If I was very, very good and didn’t get myself hurt or get in trouble or let anyone know that I’d been alone, I would get a treat. And if I was even better, if I fed myself and cleaned the house and was quiet and never cried…well, surely that would get me even more, right? Surely that would convince her to stay.”
He glanced down and saw the sad smile, the faraway eyes. He’d seen that look before, but it shouldn’t be there. Not on Erin, anyway. Not on the face of the girl he’d loved, the girl he’d thought he’d known, once upon a time. “I never really worried for myself, though. I was always safe. But she wasn’t being safe, I just knew she wasn’t. She would go out and never call, so I wouldn’t know where she was, even when everything was fine. Even when she wasn’t doing something stupid, or reckless, or even dangerous. Said I needed to be self-reliant. Said I needed to stop being such a baby, to stop worrying so much about things that would never happen.”
Jesus fucking Christ. Just listening to Erin made him want to punch something. He shifted again, pulling her slight body to his. She let him, sinking into his embrace as if she had been born to do it. It had always been like this between them, since the first time he’d kissed her. They’d seemed to have just…found each other, when he hadn’t even known he’d been looking.
And now, for this moment, he just held her, stroking her short hair, drawing his hands over the gentle curves of her shoulders. She didn’t cry, not really. Then again, Erin never did cry. In fact, in all the time that he’d known her, he’d only seen her really cry once—and that had been that night. That goddamned, pivotal night, when he’d yelled at her and shaken his cuffed hands and told her to go away for good. He didn’t count the few tears that had leaked out of her eyes tonight, not by a long shot. But she trembled in his grasp all the same.
“I’m just so tired of worrying about her, Zander,” she sighed. “If she isn’t strong enough to take care of herself, to live her life without dragging me into it, then I just want her to be smart. I want her to be safe.”
“I know, babe,” he said, dropping a soft kiss on the top of her head. “Sometimes people don’t want to be safe, though.”
She nodded. “You never did,” she said wryly, and he snorted a soft laugh, glad for the opening as he tightened his arms around her. There you go, Erin. Just come out a little way. I’ll help you get the rest of the way there.
“Sure I did,” he said. “I just have a higher tolerance for danger than most people.”
Erin shook her head. “But you were always strong. That’s the difference.” He could sense the smile coming back into her words, as she leaned away from him just enough to look up, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Not terribly smart, but strong.”
Zander grinned down at her. “Sometimes smart is overrated.” Erin looked like a porcelain doll in his arms, her large eyes shimmering, her bowed mouth subdued, her fair skin somehow more luminous, not less, from the emotion raging within her. The emotion she carefully kept bottled up inside, while always seeming at first glance to be sweet, placid, serene. Like the surface of a lake. Now she searched his eyes as if looking for an answer, and after a moment, she seemed to find it.
“You know, screw it.” She sighed. “We’re halfway across the continent, waiting for drug dealers to release my mom and some guy I’ve never even met.” She hunkered back down into his arms. “But at least we have this time together, right? A few more hours before all the crazy starts up again.”
The phone rang.
Chapter 22
“Change of plans. We meet now.”
“What?” Erin’s gaze flew to Zander’s as she sat bolt upright in the bed. “Now? What do you mean, now? I thought we were supposed to meet you at six!” Her gaze flew to the alarm clock on the bedside table, but her eyes weren’t deceiving her. It read 2:30 P.M.
“No. You bring the money now to Playa Del Sol. Enter through the back door—it’s easy to find. Your parents will be there, unharmed. Leave the money and you will be allowed to go.”
“But—” Zander was in front of her, giving her the thumbs up and nodding his head. Just that quickly, he was ready to go. He touched his watch, then flashed ten fingers at her twice, and Erin nodded, dread coiling in her stomach. “Twenty minutes,” she said quickly. “Give us twenty minutes. We’ll be there. We just have to get everything together.” She stood up, rushing through the room as she talked, though in fact, she had nothing to do. They’d thought they’d be gone by now; there’d been no reason to unpack their bags again.
“You must come now,” the voice insisted. “Or do not bother coming at all.”
“We’ll be there in twenty minutes!” Erin promised, then turned the phone off before the man could say anything else. Zander was already on his own phone, talking with someone—it had to be Rey—while he quickly and methodically went through both bags. He set the blue one aside and tossed the pink one to her. The money was in the blue bag, of course, and once again, Erin felt a surge of fear as she grabbed her pack and shoved the last remaining items into it, including her purse. The exchange was now. It was finally happening, and she wasn’t sure how to react. She wasn’t just endangering herself, after all. She was also putting Zander in the line of fire, and he’d willingly come along. He’d traveled down here to help her for the thrill of it, the excitement. The adrenaline rush of yet another risk taken, yet another challenge overcome.
He’d also done it just because she’d asked him to. As simple as that. What that meant for their relationship beyond today, she had no idea.
Either way, he was risking his life just being here, though he certain
ly wasn’t acting like it. Numbly, she watched him bark orders to Rey, then stride into the bathroom, double-checking that they’d left nothing behind, checking the bedding, checking her. He frowned when he saw her face, his expression a question until she waved him off. He turned back to his phone call then, letting Rey know of the new time, the new situation, the new logistical challenge. From the sound of the response coming over the phone, Rey was not surprised at the change of plans. Which was good, because they had to move.
Zander ducked into the bathroom one last time, crashing around for barely two minutes, then they were out of the hotel, leaving through the pool area instead of through the lobby, scurrying down the side street beside the hotel. They crossed the street and race-walked the next block, then turned into the alley behind Playa Del Sol. As they walked, Zander briefed Erin, his words quick and tight.
“So it’s going to go like this,” he said. “I’m going to walk in first, you on my heels. Stay behind me, as close to me as possible. Then just follow my lead. I’m going to agree with whatever they say, and do whatever they ask, as long as it doesn’t put you in danger. And I don’t want you putting yourself in danger either, okay? You have to promise me that. No matter what we see in that room, even if your mom is hurt, even if she’s crying, you have to let me handle this. This is what I do.”
“But what if they shoot at you?” The fear that had begun in Erin’s stomach was now consuming her entire body, unwilling to be ignored. And it wasn’t fear for her, but for him. The same kind of fear that she’d felt whenever she’d thought too much about him putting himself in danger for any reason—but now he was doing it for her, and that somehow made it a hundred times worse. “I can’t let you get hurt because of—”
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