by Amy Gamet
She told herself not to beg him, desperation and pride warring for the upper hand, but she had lost so much in the last few days—her best friend, her sense of safety and peace—and now she was losing her night with Ian as well. “You’re leaving right now?” Maybe if he would stay for dinner, the meal would give her time to change his mind, but he didn’t turn around.
“We both need to get some sleep.”
“It’s eight o’clock.”
He headed for the door. “I’ll come for you at three. Make sure you’re ready.”
He was going to walk out without even looking her in the eye. “Look at me, Ian.” She crossed to him.
He raised his head and met her stare, but his eyes were shuttered. He was deliberately cutting himself off from her, disallowing any attempt to sway him. The need to make him acknowledge her outweighed the cost to her pride. “You want to be with me, too.”
“It’s the wrong decision.”
“Admit it, you coward.” She pushed him in the chest with the heel of her hand. “You want me, too.”
Emotion flared in his eyes, no longer cold but hot, hot enough to burn. There it was, the fire that ran just beneath the surface. She lifted her chin. “I can see it in the way you look at me.”
“Stop it,” he snapped.
“Or what? You’ll leave me alone when you desperately want to stay? You’ll walk out of my room and pretend you don’t give a shit when what you really want is to be in my bed just as badly as I want you there?”
He shook his head slowly and took a step back. She followed him. “Fuck you, Ian.” She pushed him again. “Fuck you for leaving me to wallow in my own crap. Fuck you for being so goddamn righteous you’ve got to deny me the one thing I’ve wanted for myself in all these years.”
“And what is that, huh?” he demanded. “What is it you think I can give you? I’m not the guy who’s going to walk into your life and make it okay. I’m not going to take care of you or even stick around.”
“I never asked you to. I don’t care about any of that.”
He leaned down, his face just inches from hers. “Then what? What is it you think I have to give?”
“Sex, all right? I wanted you to have sex with me.” She leaned forward. “I wanted you to touch me. To make me feel like a woman. Sexy. To be with me, goddamn it. But I guess that’s just too much to ask—”
He kissed her, his mouth assaulting hers with a fierceness that spoke of insatiable desire. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him to her, desperate that he not get away. The key dropped to the floor as he opened his hands, long fingers splaying across her back with a caress that lit her up like a light.
She had to get closer to him, had to feel the warmth of his skin against hers, and she grabbed a fistful of his shirt, yanking the garment over his head. He hadn’t showered as she had, the spicy scent of his body acutely male and intoxicating as a drug to a hard-core addict. Her fingers slid greedily over his muscled back, the planes of his shoulders, and the curve of his spine. She pressed kisses from his bare chest up to the hollow at his collarbone.
Would he be a good lover, stoking the hot coals of need he’d ignited with his mouth on hers, his hands on her body? Or would he overpower her, making her take what he gave until she willingly shattered into shards, like glass?
There was danger outside these doors, but there was danger inside them, too—in the thin slice of heated air that shifted between their bodies.
“Jesus,” he ground out, cursing under his breath as he hauled her up for his kisses. “I need to see you.” He stepped back, his sculpted chest rising and falling fast as he feasted on her with his eyes, and she lifted her shirt over her head. She wore a nude lace bra that plunged down between her breasts, his stare taking in the swell of flesh on display. “Show me.”
With nervous fingers, she caught one strap and tugged it down to her elbow, the cup still hugging her breast, then did the same with the next before pulling the cups down with both hands. He inhaled sharply. Her nipples were hard and desperate for his touch, her need for this man increasing with every second he made her wait.
He held out his hands to her, walking backwards to the bed and sitting on its edge. His fingers traced from her jawline to the swell of her breast, leaving a glorious tingle in their wake. He leaned forward, kissing her nipple before taking her in his mouth, the wet heat of his tongue making her moan, then took more of the sensitive flesh in his mouth and suckled her rhythmically. Her hips bucked and she gasped, the sensation more intense than any she’d ever felt from her breasts, and she thought she could climax from this feeling alone.
Was that even possible? Her hands moved to the back of his head, grazing the rough texture of his hair and holding him to her, noises she associated with orgasm coming from deep in her throat. Her knees were wobbly. “Ian,” she whispered, not knowing if she wanted him to stop or never leave.
His hand came up to her other breast, squeezing her flesh to the same rhythm as his mouth. She arched her back as sensation swept over her in a dizzying wave. Her eyes closed, pinpoints of light gathering in the darkness.
He released her, his fingers fumbling with the button on her shorts before sliding them down to the floor. He kissed her belly, one hand moving into her curls and reaching the slick wetness between her folds. She cried out, the sensations overwhelming. “I need to lie down.”
He pulled her to him, spinning their bodies around, her rump landing on the bed with a bounce. The fiery need on his face as he climbed over her was animalistic, making her wonder if she was lover or prey, knowing only she was about to be consumed either way.
Her legs spread for him of their own volition, wanting him inside her, and she whimpered when he turned his attention to the other breast instead. But this time she knew what to expect, the intensity of the sensations picking up right where they left off, her body eager for his finger as he made his way inside her. The combination was her undoing, the orgasm ripping through her, hard and strong.
The touch of his thumb on her clitoris was gasoline on the flames, sending her over the top as she cried out. Her hearing dimmed, the intensity of the orgasm overloading her sensory circuitry, and still she wanted more. She reached for him, finding the waistband of his jeans and fumbling with the zipper. She pushed his jeans to the side, his hard cock tenting his black briefs and growing larger every second.
She lifted the waistband over his erection and moaned at the sight of him wanting her. She needed to touch him, needed to taste—and this was only the beginning.
21
Razorback might have laughed at her expression if he hadn’t been so aroused, those expressive eyes going wide and her mouth dropping open. He wasn’t even fully hard yet, his cock having been pressed against the fly of the jeans she’d just removed, but clearly she was happy with what she saw.
She took his shaft in her hand and he groaned, desperate for her touch but knowing he was too far gone for any real foreplay. Just watching her shatter beneath his mouth and hands had nearly driven him mad, his need to be inside her forsaking anything else.
She ran her thumb around the tip of his cock, the bulbous glans straining for her affection and pulsing with the beat of his heart. With closed lips, she pressed kisses along his length, tormenting him with the possibility of more. “Tell me you have a condom,” she whispered against his aching skin, her breath hot.
He’d tucked the box into the back pocket of his jeans, and he reached for it now, sitting up as he sheathed himself. She came to him, straddling his lap and kissing him on the mouth, positioning him at the entrance to her body.
He exhaled on a moan as she lowered herself onto him, her tight channel squeezing his girth. She cursed under her breath. She was so wet for him, so eager for his body, her need an extension of his own. He wrapped his arms around her as she pumped herself on his shaft, kisses mingling with touch, body heat mixing with the potent smell of sex.
It was clear she was enjoying it, unashamed
ly making love to him with a fervor he could watch all day. He squeezed her breasts as his hips met hers, unable to remain still any longer. His hands moved to her back, her skin slick with sweat, and white copies of his fingers appeared on her breasts where he’d squeezed them.
He growled, licking the marred skin and taking her nipple deep into his mouth once more. Her walls clenched tightly around him and she all but stopped moving, her moaning now more like cries when he filled her. He flipped her over, thrusting hard against the fisted muscles of her orgasm and pushing himself over the edge right with her.
He came hard, wave after wave of intense pleasure flooding his brain and draining his body. He collapsed, aware of the limbs that held him close, her arms and legs locked around his torso just as the swollen walls of her sex were locked tightly around his cock.
They were knotted together, two people holding on as best they could in the darkness, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, Ian was truly happy.
His eyes popped open.
Jesus Christ, am I in trouble.
Big fucking trouble, not just a little bit.
He rolled off her and she moved with him, her body draping over his like a blanket. And he wanted her there. Wanted her against him tonight and tomorrow morning and the day after that. Still, he untangled himself and went to the bathroom, closing the door and resting his head against the wood.
The condom slipped slightly and he reached down, throwing it away and cleaning himself with a tissue. If only the rest of this mess were so easy to clean up. He considered calling Cowboy, having the other man take Jackie over the mountain instead of him. Or Booger could do it. Hell, anybody else would be good, as long as Razorback got the fuck out of Dodge.
But I don’t want to get out of Dodge.
Fuck. He wasn’t going to ask someone else to take Jackie over the mountain, and he wasn’t going to leave her side until the last possible moment he could. This was bound to explode in his goddamn face. There was no other way it could go.
He moved to the sink and splashed water on his face. What had he done? He remembered how he’d stood in the checkout line buying condoms and wine when it hit him. He was out of his goddamn mind. He’d known he was doing the right thing when he rented the second room, knew it was the only possible way this could end well for either of them. But one look at her, hair wet and dripping from the shower, the clean scent of her skin, made him doubt his reasoning.
Then she’d pushed him with her hands and touched him with her words. I wanted you to have sex with me. To make me feel like a woman. To be with me, goddamn it.
And he had. Worse still, he knew he’d do it again if she gave him half a chance. He couldn’t be trusted around her, his idiot mind intent on throwing himself in front of that bus again and again, reason be damned.
He eyed himself in the mirror. He should be happy.
He dropped his chin to his chest. This was dangerous territory, the one road he knew for certain he never wanted to travel again. Relying on other people for happiness was a fool’s game he could never win, an illusion, and that made Jacqueline Desjardins more hazardous to his well-being than the roadside bomb that had changed his life forever.
22
Jackie walked beside Razorback in the hundred-and-four-degree heat, thinking about their conversation and not saying a word. The sun was directly overhead like a broiler on a steak, the air so full of moisture the breeze from her movement wasn’t even refreshing. There was only sweat and more sweat, her clothing saturated, her body wretchedly hot.
She wore lightweight camouflage clothing and a hat Cowboy had given her when he picked them up at the river. A pair of leg covers came up to her knees to protect her from poisonous snakes, an accessory she felt certain raised her body temperature exponentially.
The day was an abstract blur punctuated by brief periods of extreme clarity, from the cloyingly warm water of the black Rio Grande seeping between her life vest and her skin, to the smell of the dry sand baking beneath her feet. And through it all was Razorback, ready to hand her the next thing she needed, always leading the charge, never saying anything that actually mattered about last night or what—if anything—had changed between them.
All along the trail was evidence of those who’d come before—empty water jugs, pieces of clothing. Jackie tried not to imagine the people who’d left them here, tried not to wonder if they were dead or alive.
“Do you need a break?” he asked.
She would have given up chocolate for life if she could sit down and put her feet up for an hour. “How’s our speed?”
“A little over a mile and a half an hour.”
Damn it. She was sure she’d sped up after the last time she’d asked. “We have to go faster.”
“You can only push your body as far as it will go.”
“Yeah?” She passed him. “Is that what they taught you in boot camp? Just give up?”
“Not boot camp. BUD/S. Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL.”
Even the smallest increase in her effort felt like she’d gone from a crawl to a full-out sprint. She felt faint. “But the message was the same. Quit.”
“We were taught to understand our own physical abilities and limits. Take you, for example. Right now, you’re determined to move as quickly as possible through the heat of the day. You haven’t had a drink in almost a mile, and you’re dehydrated. Are you dizzy?”
“No,” she lied.
“Are your legs cramping up? Because once they do, they’re going to hurt you the rest of the way.”
She should probably have some water. “They’re fine.”
“Ever hear of the tortoise and the hare?”
She stopped abruptly, putting her hands on her hips and dropping her head. “How many miles?”
“Eleven down, twenty-nine to go.”
She crumpled to the ground. “Oh, sweet mercy.”
He knelt beside her and passed her a straw from the water bladder in his pack. She sucked greedily at it, the liquid magically cool and wonderful. “Thank you.”
“We need food.” He took off the pack and unzipped a pocket. “I have peanuts, granola bars, or beef jerky.”
“Granola.” She bit into it, which tasted better than any food she’d eaten in her life. “It’s good.” She finished it in four bites and went back to the straw for more water. “I’m sorry, Ian.”
He shrugged. “It’s okay.” He was just as sweaty as she, but other than that, he looked like this was no more difficult for him than an easy Sunday stroll. “I understand you’re frustrated.”
“Not frustrated. I’m scared, more than anything. I keep trying not to think so I don’t imagine what can go wrong.”
His head jerked to the side, his eyes staring into the distance.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Chopper. Move! Move! Move!”
Panic was intense and quick, spurring her into action. They ran hard toward an area of taller brush some hundred yards away, the distance leaving them exposed in the open for long seconds before reaching the cover of the trees.
She was gasping for breath when they got there, the sound of the rotors now clearly audible in the distance. “How far can they see?” she asked.
He put his arm around her shoulders, the first time he’d touched her all day. “Far enough, but that doesn’t mean they did. I give us a fifty-fifty chance on this one. Get down on the ground.” He lay next to her as the chopper got closer and closer, the thump of its rotors seeming to drum on her lungs.
“Thanks for last night,” she yelled over the din.
“You’re telling me this now?”
“I might not have another chance.” Sand blew in her face and she ducked her head, covering herself as best she could with her hands. Razorback brought his arm around her face, too.
The noise got so loud she knew Border Patrol had spotted them and was hovering overhead. Any minute now agents would swoop in by car and take them into custody.
One minute stretched into the next, the sound violently intense as her exposed skin was pelted with sand. This was it. They’d been caught just eleven miles into their journey, not even halfway. There would be no scene at the Democratic National Convention, no scandal to knock Doug McGrath out of the presidential race.
There would be no peace.
No safety, no freedom, no hope.
“It’s moving away,” he yelled in her ear.
Was it? She lifted her head and squinted her eyes to see. There was less noise, less sand blowing along the ground than there had been before. She looked up, the chopper now past them and still going, and broke out in a huge smile. “It’s moving away!” She squeezed him, Razorback seeming to hesitate before returning the embrace, but she was too elated to worry about that. “We’re going to make it, aren’t we?”
“Never doubted it for a moment.”
She stood with renewed energy, more determined than ever to complete their hike successfully no matter the physical challenge. Her steps grew easier. She no longer noticed the heat, the humidity. There was only the stumble and stride of her feet through the sand, the rhythmic sound of her breathing, and the steady progress gained by sheer force of will.
By the time they made camp for the night, she was exhausted. The sun was setting in the sky, its warm tones bathing the landscape in orange and gold, and she sat on a thin sleeping bag Razorback set out for her. “We’re going to make it,” she said again. She’d been saying it all day.
Razorback chuckled. “Remind me not to fuck with you.” He was strikingly handsome, the panoramic view of the valley below stretching up to the horizon behind him, and she smiled a tired smile.
He unlaced her shoes. “You don’t have to do that,” she said, but he slipped them off and removed her socks. It felt oddly personal, especially strange given that they’d slept together. She wiggled her toes, the freedom of movement feeling heavenly, and when he rubbed her arches, she thought she might die.
