by Cherry Adair
“Zak?”
With a noncommittal grunt, he dragged his attention away from her ass and poured shampoo into his palm, then lathered the long strands, running his hands through to the wet ends that hung halfway down her back.
She moaned as he massaged his lathered fingertips against her scalp. The moan made his dick grow like Pinocchio’s nose after a big lie. He rinsed, lathered, and rinsed again. He should get a damned medal of honor for his commitment to duty in the face of almost certain death by blue balls. “Conditioner?”
“Hmm.”
He applied the smoothing liquid to her wet hair, then reached for the soap. Lather, rinse. There was probably a washcloth around somewhere, but he used his hands. His hands and plenty of the glistening suds turned her skin into a play area with lifts, runs, and jumps he just wanted to dive into.
Zak gritted his teeth and kept his touch as impersonal as a doctor’s. “Turn.”
He had to hold her arm so she didn’t slip. Holding her arm meant his hand was beside her breast. It needed washing. Lather, wash. Lather … a little more washing. Concentrate, pal. And don’t forget to breathe.
“If you’re going to keep that up, it would only be polite to kiss me first.”
He smothered a laugh. “I don’t want to get you worked up; you’re tired.”
“I’m worked up, I’m just too tired to show it by exuberant movements and wild cries of delight.” Her eyes glinted from beneath a spiky fan of lashes. “I’m quietly worked up.”
Jesus. How damned adorable was she? Very. Zak slid his soapy hands down her hips, then slid one into her soapy nest of curls. “I’m quietly worked up, too.” The understatement of the century.
He rubbed his dick against the smooth, wet skin of her stomach and smiled against her mouth. “Hard to hide.”
She nibbled his lower lip. “I have a perfect place. Nobody but us will ever know.” With a laugh, Zak turned off the taps and picked her up, soapsuds, pouring water, and all, and carried her into the bedroom, a matter of a couple of feet. Stepping over their scattered clothing and boots, he dropped her on the mattress with a little bounce, then followed her down.
Their bodies were dripping wet, sliding erotically together as he shifted to rest between her sprawled legs. Acadia practically purred as she lazily wrapped her arms around his neck, entwined her legs around his waist, and shifted her hips to accommodate him.
Zak’s penis slid into her tight, wet sheath without fanfare. He slanted his mouth to kiss her, loving her response, loving the feel of her arms and legs enveloping him. Loving … hell, loving it all.
Their lazy, almost dreamlike lovemaking made the intensity of their shared climax even more powerful when it struck them within seconds of penetration. Zak’s muscles tensed unbearably as a rocket blast of power ratcheted his muscles and tendons and left him gasping for an unrestricted breath.
The climax went on and on. One rolling into the next.
He thought Acadia moaned his name. But his hearing was on mute, every ounce of focus on where their bodies joined.
It felt like a nanosecond, or a year, later when her legs fell limply away from his hips and her arms dropped from his shoulders. She dragged in a shuddering breath, lifted her hand weakly to touch him, dropped it back to the bed, and looked up at him with dazed eyes. “Death by sex.”
“Hell of a way to go.” He brushed a tangle of wet hair off her face and shoulder as she closed her eyes. “I’m sorrier than hell I got you into this clusterfuck. Do you wa—”
She let out a gentle, but unmistakable, snore.
SIXTEEN
Acadia yawned, her face buried in the lumpy pillow, decided she was awake, and cracked open one eye. Sunlight filtered through the cheap, uneven red curtains, and sounds drifted through a haze of half-awake consciousness.
Tap-tap-tap. Fingers on a keyboard. The hum of a cheap vacuum cleaner laboring up and down the hallway beyond the door. A distant dog barking.
Opening the other eye, she rolled over and stretched. Naked and well rested, she felt terrific, considering everything they’d been through in the last couple of days. Must be all the sex keeping her energy levels up. Whatever it was, she knew it had everything to do with Zak. She’d hated saying good-bye yesterday, and she was going to hate it again today. Probably more. Every hour she spent with him was making it that much harder to be cool and sophisticated about saying good-bye.
Dressed and freshly shaved, Zak looked both devastating and determined. A muscle worked in his jaw, and he was frowning, as he sat at the small table working on the computer.
“Don’t you ever sleep?” she asked around another yawn.
At the sound of her voice, he turned around, resting his arm along the back of the chair. His expression made Acadia’s heart skip several beats. Satisfied male, yes. But there was also a warmth and softness that she hadn’t seen reflected in his eyes before.
More than likely just her own postcoital glow, she warned the butterflies swooping around in her tummy. Dangerously close to her heart.
“I only need about four hours.” Heat flared in his hazel eyes as she stretched her arms over her head. He liked her body, she knew, and she held the pose as his smoldering gaze traveled in a leisurely fashion over her breasts and down her belly, paused at the juncture of her thighs, and lazily moved like a caress all the way to her toes. Then climbed unhurriedly back up.
“I need at least eight or I get grumpy.” She arched her back and gave him a memory to keep after she was gone.
The skin across his cheekbones pulled tight as his gaze returned to her face, and a pulse beat in his jaw. Voice thick, he said, “You look like Aphrodite emerging from the sea.”
He could probably make her come just by looking at her like that. “Ha!” She shifted, thrilled when his pupils flared. Teasing him turned her on all over again. The man was a sex whisperer. “You’re just too polite to tell me I look like Medusa. I know, because I slept with wet hair.” She pulled a face when she tried to run her fingers through the tangled mass. Flushed by the intent in his eyes, she sat up and curled her arms around her bent knees. “What’s the plan for today?” Get rid of the blonde, avoid bombs and kidnappers, cheat death, find brother.
“For one thing, I’m sick and tired of playing defense.” Zak’s expression hardened. Acadia rubbed her shins with both hands. She wouldn’t like Zak ever to look at her like that. “Time to go on the offensive,” he said, more, she figured, to himself than to her.
“Excellent. I’m with you there. You’re not wearing the watch? Numbers bothering you?”
“The strap should be replaced; it’s starting to show signs of Gid’s wear and tear. If I hadn’t been so damned distracted, I would’ve noticed. He’s a lot harder on his things than … Don’t want to lose it. And no, seeing the numbers doesn’t bother me now that I know what they are. In fact, they give me hope. I figure if I’m still seeing them, then he’s still alive, and I’ll find him.”
He picked up the watch, which lay on the table beside the computer, and glanced at the time. “The embassy opens in eleven minutes. I’ll call. See where we stand on our paperwork. If we need to cross a few more palms with cash to expedite this, then that’s number one on our to-do list this morning. Getting you on a private plane is next; unfortunately, I can’t get another one sent here before I leave. I really want you safe and on your way home before I hie off with Buck’s security guys.”
He absently strapped the watch to his right wrist, and she could tell by the telltale flicker of his lashes that he was once again seeing the scrolling numbers.
“That leaves a commercial flight, but without proper clearance, that won’t fly. Literally.”
The embassy had told them it could take up to two weeks to get a new passport. She didn’t even want to know what kind of strings Zak must’ve pulled to get her on a flight. “You got me a flight out? Today?”
“Tentatively. If all the fucking stars align. Two twenty. You have a layover in Houston. You
’ll be home for a late dinner.”
“Great,” she said, keeping her voice upbeat despite the huge lump swelling uncomfortably in her throat. She was starting to feel like a piece of annoying lost luggage that kept getting rerouted. “I don’t suppose there were any clean clothes in that bag we brought upstairs with us?”
The wreck of a Taurus had had a well-concealed compartment, revealed when the backseat was lifted, and last night Zak had brought both their bag and a duffel he’d retrieved from his friend’s car up to the room with him.
“Boxers or briefs?”
“Boxers, for sure.”
“Then you’re in luck. You have several pairs to choose from, also a couple of large T-shirts and some cargo pants that would fit both of us together.”
“That would make it hard to walk.” She smiled, bunching her hair in a fist and holding it on top of her head. “Any progress on Gideon’s exact location?”
“Yeah. I think between the computer, the map, and what’s scrolling, I have a pretty damn accurate location. I talked to Buck last night while you were out like a light. He was mildly pissed about the plane, and glad we’re okay.”
Mildly pissed? Acadia had no idea how much a personal jet cost to replace, but she was pretty sure it warranted more than “mildly.” “You told him I’m with you?”
“Actually, no. It wasn’t relevant.”
She digested that for a moment. She’d been through freaking hell with him and it wasn’t relevant? It annoyed her to realize how much the offhand statement annoyed her. “Odd. I feel very relevant,” she said. Maybe he would’ve thought her relevant if he’d had to explain her demise to her friends back home. She slid her legs off the bed and stood. “I’m going to take another shower, and then I want to try and call my friends back home. I’ll be ready to leave in fifteen minutes.”
“Acadia …”
She washed efficiently, trying not to overreact, and got out of the tub. The only two towels in the bathroom were still wet, despite having been hung neatly on the rack. Tears smarted in her eyes, which was asinine. She dried off as best she could, then finger-combed her hair and blew it dry with the feeble blast from the dryer on the wall.
Zak had left several pairs of boxer shorts and folded-up clothes on the side of the counter when she was behind the cheap plastic curtain. He hadn’t climbed in with her, as he’d done the night before; he hadn’t even—
Shut up, Acadia. Just get over the drama of it all.
There was enough real-time drama going on around them without her having a hissy fit because she was hurt by what he’d said to a man she didn’t even know. It wasn’t like her to be so overly sensitive. She’d never been this way with either Tom or Jeff. Both long-term lovers. If they’d said anything obtuse, she’d questioned them, debated the situation, and it was over.
Acadia didn’t like this new, insecure … girlie side of herself when she was with Zak. She was a prosaic, pragmatic, and down-to-earth woman. The truth of the matter was, she should be grateful that he was doing everything in his not-unlimited power to ensure she got home where she could go on with her boring, albeit safer, life.
She could either spend their last few hours together irritated that he hadn’t told his friends about her, as if she were in junior high, or she could enjoy every second of what she had left and make the most of it.
She’d never before met a man like Zakary Stark, and she doubted she ever would again. It was her choice. “Choose wisely, Grasshopper,” she whispered to her reflection.
She grabbed the first thing that came to hand—purple silk boxers—and pulled up her pants. She layered the black T-shirt under the pocketed vest and left it hanging open. Then went into the room. “Ready. Did you talk to the embassy?”
“They called while you were in the shower. Both our passports and our paperwork came through. I—”
“That’s amazingly quick. But great. No need to hang around, then, right? We’ll get my passport, and I’ll be on a plane and out of your hair in no time.” She found one of her boots under the bed and the other wedged under the dresser; she had to lie flat on her stomach to fish it out. “I’m due back at work the day after tomorrow, so this’ll work out perfectly.”
Carrying her boots, she plopped down on the side of the bed, her back to him. “Everyone is going to want to see pictures, of course, but I—”
“You can’t stay with me,” he told her, his tone belligerent and extremely annoyed. “I have to go get Gideon. It’s too fucking dangerous for you—”
She looked at him over her shoulder and cut him off, because apparently she wasn’t as mature or evolved as she’d hoped to be. Teeth clenched, she stuffed one foot into a boot and contorted her leg to put her foot on the bed beside her to do up the laces. “A, I didn’t ask to stay here. B, I don’t want to stay here. Frankly, I’m not that fond of Venezuela or for that matter being blown up. And C, unlike you, I don’t thrive on danger and living one terrified minute to the next. Believe me, Zak, fun as this has been, I really, really want to go home now. I’m not cut out for the life of an adrenaline junkie.”
He held her gaze. “You’re scared.”
“Any sane person would be. Which says a lot about you.” She shoved her other foot into the other boot and pulled at the laces. Oh, yeah, she was scared. Scared that this man was coming to mean more to her than she’d ever thought was possible in such short a time. She was terrified that she’d crossed some personal line in the sand and she’d never recover.
She glanced at him over her shoulder again. “The last plane I boarded blew up.” She had to undo the boot laces because she’d strangled her foot by pulling them too tight. “I hope like hell they don’t try to blow up a commercial flight full of peop—” She scowled as he got up and stepped around the foot of the bed. “What do you think—Oh!”
He pulled her up, fingers digging into her shoulders. Up. On her feet. Into his arms. One. Two. Glorious three.
Sliding one long-fingered hand under her hair to cradle her nape, he lowered his mouth to hers. Her lashes fluttered closed as she drew in the familiar scent of his skin, which no soap could disguise. A soft brush of his lips had her heartbeat skittering in her chest. His tongue swept inside, and she welcomed it with a deft sweep of her own. His tall body felt hard and strong, and more familiar to her now than her own. Yet she felt the bulk of the dressing on his shoulder and knew that he wasn’t invincible at all.
Her breasts, sensitive and needy, pressed against the hard plane of his chest as Acadia wrapped her arms around his waist, fisting the back of his shirt and standing on her toes to get closer.
His thumb stroked the sensitive skin on the back of her neck, his mouth slanted to explore what she so willingly offered. The man—she shuddered—knew how to kiss.
His lips withdrew by a breath, and her mouth followed, clinging to his. He moved again, until a fraction of an inch separated their damp mouths. His eyes were dark pools, the pupils obliterating the color.
“You’re a dangerous woman, Acadia Gray.” Picking up a tangled skein of her hair draped over her shoulder, he ran it back and forth over his lips, maintaining eye contact. “If it wasn’t for, hell, everything, I’d hole up in this room with you for a month. We’d never get dressed, and they’d have to deliver our meals periodically so we could keep up our strength. But the only way I’m going to be able to find my brother quickly is by knowing that you’re out of harm’s way. Got that? I want you as far away from these people as I can get you. And fast.”
ZAK FOUND A PARKING place a few blocks from the embassy. It was a beautiful, sunny day, not a cloud in the hard blue sky as they walked to the front of the building. He hadn’t clarified his statement about wanting her to leave ASAP. Did he mean forever? For the time being while he searched for his brother? He didn’t have her home address, although Junction City and the store wouldn’t be hard to find. Still, it would ease the ache in her chest if she could be sure she’d see him again.
Acadia wished wi
th all her heart that this were over. That Gideon were back in Seattle safe and sound, that Zak …
She wished she were back at home with Zak right now, wearing one of the feminine and pretty floral sundresses the women walking to work wore. A sundress and pretty shoes. High heels. And at least a freaking smudge of masca—
Abruptly he slammed his arm across her midriff, breaking her stride. “Omph!”
He crowded her back against the wall of the embassy.
“What’s the matter now?” This high drama was exhausting, and she wasn’t in the mood for it this morning. She wanted a smooth transition back to Junction City. Saying good-bye to Zak had taken all her emotional fortitude yesterday; she was trying to be mature about it again today. Practice wasn’t going to make perfect. Especially if he kept putting his hands on her.
They had a plan. Zak was going to meet up with the security team later to get his brother as soon as she was safely on a plane back to Kansas. Suddenly he spun around and grabbed her by her shoulders. He cupped her face in both hands and pressed her back against the sun-warmed plaster. His eyes were open, too. And he was looking off to the right, his hands still holding her shoulders. Acadia gave him a little shove. “I enjoy kissing you, God only knows it shorts all my circuits, but would you mind telling me what that was about?”
Zak wrapped his arm around her shoulders and started walking rapidly back the way they’d come. “Loida Piñero and four of her men just went inside. They were wearing the green camouflage uniforms of the National Guard. The Guardia Nacional is a paramilitary force run by the Ministry of Defense to provide national security within the country.”
“Okay.” Acadia took two steps to Zak’s one just so she could keep up with his long strides. Once they reached the Ford, he yanked open the door and practically threw her in through the driver’s door. He got in, cranked the engine, and pulled smoothly into traffic.
“The fact that Piñero is here, in National Guard uniform, no less, is no fucking coincidence.” He eased the car into the middle lane and kept a steady pace. To where, Acadia had no idea. “I thought when the embassy called first thing this morning that it was oddly efficient of them to have pulled the paperwork together that fast; they originally told us it would take forty-eight hours, and it’s only been a day since we were there, believe it or not. I should’ve trusted my instincts.”
