“Are they gone?” she asked.
“I don’t know. We have to keep moving.”
She nodded, trudging forward. They walked for several miles, until daylight faded. The temperature dropped and the storm raged on. She used the tarp to cover her shoulders and head, but it didn’t do much good. She was already wet.
Darkness closed in and she began to pray for shelter. They stumbled upon a fence made from hand-hewn wooden posts, and followed it into the night. Soon they came to a clearing with a small barn. Though uninhabited, the barn wasn’t lacking basic amenities. There was a battery-operated lantern hanging on a hook inside. A wool blanket lay folded on a haystack. Perhaps the space was used seasonally, or only as a resting place for cattlemen.
Ian latched the barn door and turned on the lamp. She wrapped her arms around her body, shivering from the cold.
“We have to get out of these wet clothes,” he said.
She agreed readily, without a hint of unease. The reservations she’d had about undressing in front of him earlier were gone. They were alive and unharmed. Last night’s close call faded into the background. She was in a hurry to shed layers and get warm. While he took off his shirt, she spread the tarp over a thin mattress of hay. Then she removed her boots, socks, and pants. She was naked underneath her T-shirt, so she covered herself with the wool blanket before she stripped down to nothing.
He kept his pants on. She watched him hang their clothes to dry on empty gear hooks. Then he sat down on the haystack, putting the lantern on the ground next to him. It illuminated the space. There were no windows, and the light wouldn’t be visible in the storm anyway.
She could tell he was uncomfortable. His skin was damp and covered in gooseflesh. He swiped a hand down his face, wicking away the moisture.
“Do you think they’ll find us?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t think they followed us. They were probably looking for Sarai. Chasing after me was too much of a hassle in the rain.”
She figured it was his quick thinking that prevented them from being caught. He’d played it perfectly. Letting her go first had protected her from harm, and firing a warning shot had given them just enough time to escape. “You are very good at being a police officer.”
“I’m not a police officer. I was a border patrol agent, and a DEA agent.”
“What are you now?”
“Nothing, really.”
“You’re not nothing.”
“I’m a temporary attaché.”
“Attaché,” she said, testing the word. It sounded pretty sexy. He looked sexy, bare-chested, wearing a shoulder holster. Sexy and dangerous and taut with tension.
His eyes lingered on her mouth for a moment. “You should get some sleep.”
“So should you.”
“I have to keep watch.”
She suspected that he was reluctant to lay down with her for other reasons. She was nude, and he wasn’t supposed to touch her. He’d been able to resist temptation underneath the tree on the hilltop. Here, in this barn, they were all alone.
“I’m cold,” she said truthfully. “Will you put your arm around me?”
After a short hesitation, he lay down and stretched out beside her. He wrapped his arm around her the same way he’d done before. His gun holster was on the opposite side. She snuggled closer, pressing her nose to his chest.
“Your skin is like ice,” she said.
“I’m fine.”
Ignoring his curt response, she opened the blanket to share its warmth. He held himself motionless as she settled against him. When her breasts grazed his ribcage, a muscle in his jaw flexed, but he didn’t look at her. He didn’t make a sound. He almost seemed afraid to inhale, as if her scent might be his undoing. She didn’t know if she wanted to be his undoing or not. He confused and exhilarated her. In San Diego, he’d seemed so lost. The undercover job had consumed him. She hadn’t understood how much it meant to him to work in law enforcement before. She’d only seen the downside.
Now everything was different. She was different. Her feelings changed by the day, by the hour. They were in such a volatile situation, jumping from place to place, from train to train. Her mind was in turmoil and her hormones had gone wild, but it was her heart that was the most affected. She loved him. She needed him. She wanted him, desperately.
A few hours ago, she’d been uneasy with his closeness. Now she longed for him to get closer. She couldn’t really explain why she felt shy one moment and bold the next. She only knew that this was her last chance to be with him. Her skin prickled with awareness and her body trembled for his touch. She was ready to give herself to him completely.
He couldn’t sacrifice his future for a short affair with her, of course. That was okay. She’d gone twenty-two years without consensual sex; she could handle one more night. It wasn’t worth jeopardizing his career. If they couldn’t be together, they couldn’t be together. Their main priority was survival, not pleasure.
Although she tried not to get emotional about it, the tears came, unbidden. They rolled down her cheek, onto his chest.
“What’s wrong?” he asked stiffly.
“I’m glad you’re alive.”
His eyes met hers, curious.
“I hope you get a new job in San Diego, as a police officer or whatever you want to be. And I hope you find a nice woman to marry.”
He gave her an incredulous look. “You hope I meet someone else?”
“Yes.”
“That would make you happy?”
“Yes,” she said, her face crumpling.
His lips twitched in amusement. “You don’t look happy.”
She gave up on pretending to be selfless and cursed him in Spanish. He was right. Her well wishes only extended so far.
He turned toward her and cupped her cheek in one hand while she cried. After she quieted, he wiped her tears away. Then he swept his thumb over her lips. “For the record, I don’t want you to meet anyone else. I don’t want any other man to touch you, ever again. You’re mine, Maria. And if I can’t have you, I want you to be unsatisfied forever.”
“How cruel,” she said softly. Then she parted her lips for his thumb. When his gaze darkened, she closed her mouth around him and sucked.
That was all it took to seduce him. He seemed shocked by the move, as if he thought her too innocent to know that men enjoyed the promise of oral sex. But she wasn’t an ignorant girl anymore, despite her lack of experience. She was a mature woman, full of desire, as eager to give pleasure as she was to receive it.
He removed his thumb from her mouth and replaced it with his tongue, kissing her hotly. She accepted his kiss with an eager moan. She wanted him to take more. She wanted him to take everything, to touch her everywhere.
His tongue plundered her, over and over again. She kissed him back, hungrily, reveling in sensation. She could feel his hard-muscled chest against her breasts, his warm skin and strong heartbeat. The barn smelled of hay and rain and wet earth. Her fingertips danced over his back, exploring the bunched muscles there. His flesh seemed to leap at her touch. He kissed harder, burying his hands in her damp hair. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders and heard him groan. His pants were wet and cool, but his erection was hot. His distended fly jutted against her stomach. She wrapped her bare legs around him and arched her back in invitation. She wanted him inside her.
He broke the kiss, panting. “We can’t do this.”
She was aware of the chilly air on her tight nipples, and the throbbing heat between her legs. “Why not?”
“I don’t have a condom.”
“I do. I got one at the health office.”
He stared down at her, seeming dumbfounded. She got the impression that he was trying to think of other reasons to stop. His confusion was cute, so she kissed him again and reached for his belt buckle. He gripped her wrist, denying her. “Not yet.”
She shivered in response. Not yet was so much better than we can’t.
; “I have to get you ready.”
“I’m ready.”
He ignored this claim and moved her hand away from his body. With slow deliberation, he stretched it over her head and held it there. Testing her, perhaps. Although she had reservations about being restrained, she didn’t panic. If anything, she felt more excited.
“I want you more than ready,” he said, touching his lips to her throat. “I want you dripping wet.”
She sucked in a sharp breath as he kissed his way down her chest. He didn’t need to do any foreplay; his dirty talk in that rough-soft voice was enough. His mouth was magic, framed by stubble, tongue rasping over her stiff nipples. Her eyes drifted closed and she moaned, reveling in his touch. Then he released her wrist and moved lower.
Her eyes flew open again. ¡Dios mío!
He braced his palms on her thighs, spreading them wide. Her belly quivered with tension. She wasn’t waxed smooth, like the girls in magazines, but he didn’t seem to care. He closed his mouth over her with a grunt of enjoyment, as if she tasted delicious. When his tongue met her heated flesh, she let out a startled cry of pleasure.
He sucked and licked her languidly, not rushing. He slid one finger inside her, then two, as he flicked his tongue over her. She was slippery-wet, lost in sensation. She knew what was coming, and it was coming fast.
“Wait,” she said, reluctant to leave him behind again.
“What’s wrong?”
“I want the pounding, like you said before.”
He wiped his mouth, contemplative. “It’s better if you come first.”
“Why?”
“I won’t last a minute inside you.”
She tugged him upright, kissing his lips. “I don’t care,” she said, impatient for the main event. She fumbled with his belt buckle and the buttons on his fly. Then he was in her hand, rock-hard and thick, pulsing with life.
Yes. This was what she wanted. This blunt instrument, not his gentle fingers or a soft tongue. She was aroused beyond belief just from stroking him.
“Where’s the condom?” he asked in a hoarse voice.
She released him and grabbed the health kit from her tote bag. It had a single condom inside. He ripped open the wrapper and rolled it down his length. She watched him eagerly, moistening her lips in anticipation.
“Like this, with me on top?”
She wasn’t sure which position she’d be most comfortable with, but she trusted him. Man on top seemed like a logical place to begin. She nodded her permission. He gripped his shaft and placed the tip against her. Then he pushed inside a few inches.
“Okay?”
She twined her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, urging him deeper. He jerked forward with a heavy thrust. She tensed at the intrusion, even though it didn’t really hurt. It was just too much all at once. She felt too full, too tight, too sensitive.
“Should I stop?”
“No,” she said, stoic. “Get it over with.”
He laughed at this answer, his arms shaking from the strain. Instead of hurrying up, he dipped his head to her breasts and swirled his tongue around her nipples. The warm tug of his mouth worked like magic, causing a rush of moisture between her legs. Her thigh muscles relaxed. He withdrew about halfway and slid inside again.
“Ooh,” she said, digging her nails into his back.
“Better?”
She made a strangled sound and writhed against him. She’d gone from uncertain to Ay Dios, qué rico in less than five seconds. “More.”
He gave her what she asked for, moving in and out steadily. Then he gave her a little more. He slipped his hand between them and placed his thumb over her clit. Her lips parted in shock as he rubbed her in lazy circles.
She’d touched herself many times, and fantasized about him doing it, but she’d never imagined it could feel like this. The combination of slick fullness and rhythmic stroking unraveled her. She came apart like a spool of thread, spinning out of control. Her hips bucked off the blanket and her mouth formed a silent scream of ecstasy.
When the climax was over, she lay there with her arms splayed out, feeling woozy. He was staring at her as if she was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. Swallowing hard, he began to thrust again. He grasped her hips, driving deeper. Then he let out a hoarse yell and buried himself inside her, his shoulders quaking from the power of his release.
She marveled at the sight of him in the throes of ecstasy. She loved his corded neck and sweaty, flushed skin. His twitching pecs were sublime.
“Fuck,” he said, breathing heavily. He rested his forehead on her collarbone. After a long moment, he withdrew from her body and rolled over. He didn’t appear as relaxed as she felt. His eyes were closed, brow furrowed.
“Are you in pain?” she asked.
He grimaced at the question. “I’m okay.”
“You’re hurt,” she cried, sitting forward. “I hurt you.”
With a mild grunt, he got up and disposed of the condom. His limp was more pronounced now, his features etched in discomfort. He buttoned his pants and lay down beside her, silent. She covered them both with the blanket.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “That was selfish.”
“It wasn’t selfish.”
“You are injured and I thought only of myself.”
His chest rumbled with laughter. “In case you didn’t notice, I was a willing participant.”
“I seduced you on purpose.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
He put his arm around her shoulders. “Baby, it doesn’t matter what you did. I got under the blanket with you. I kissed you and touched you and talked about getting you wet. Everything that happened was on me.” His voice dropped an octave. “And you felt so fucking good, I forgot all about my leg.”
She glanced at him, her cheeks hot. His sexy talk made her tingle with warmth. It was true that he hadn’t needed much convincing. But they were both responsible for the encounter, not just him. When she’d sucked his thumb into her mouth, she hadn’t been thinking about his injury. She hadn’t been thinking about his career. She’d been thinking about his hard length, deep inside her.
“Did you like it?”
Her jaw dropped. “You couldn’t tell?”
“I want to be sure.”
“Ian,” she said, pressing her lips to his chest. “You were perfect.”
“Perfect?”
“Too big, maybe.”
His eyes narrowed at this claim, as if he suspected her of embellishing. “Really?”
She hid a smile, aware that men liked to boast about their size. He was just right. “What we did, this was a pounding?”
“No. I was trying to be gentle.”
She snuggled in closer, loving him for it. But she didn’t say that, because she’d already caused him enough pain. One night of passion couldn’t change their trajectories. He was going north, to his bright future and challenging career, while she was heading south, back home. Back to her family.
Back to the life she’d never wanted, without him.
Chapter 16
Sarai crept out of her hiding place just before dawn.
When la migra had arrived at the last station, she’d been sitting on the ground next to the train. The passengers had started running in all different directions, because there was nowhere to go. They were in a small valley, surrounded by immigration vans. It was the perfect ambush spot. Instead of fleeing in a panic, she’d slipped between railcars and dropped to her belly. While men were beaten and women screamed in terror, she’d army-crawled along the tracks until she found what she was looking for near the front of the train. It was part garbage chute, part latrine.
She’d inspected the underside of the train during a lull the first night. She’d been searching for a safe place to sleep or an emergency escape hatch. The cargo hulls offered no such luxuries. This freight train was made of impenetrable metal boxes with ribbed sides. They were locked up tight. The only viable op
tion was crawling through garbage.
She held her breath as she shimmied through the cramped, foul space. It smelled like urine and spoiled food, and the sides were slick with some kind of nasty mess. If she’d been any bigger, she wouldn’t have fit. If she’d been any smaller, she’d have slid right back out. She grimaced at the thought of what might rain down on her while she hid.
Luckily there was another option. When she surfaced inside the railcar, she found a second trash bin right next to the chute. She crawled out the lid and scurried into the bin. It appeared to be a storage space for cardboard boxes and other recyclables. There was more room here, and she felt safer from discovery, but it was hardly clean or comfortable. Sharp edges poked her at every angle. The odor of rodent droppings burned her nostrils. She stayed there for the next twelve hours.
The train started up again, rushing over the tracks. A rickety, rusted metal grate stood between her body and the spinning wheels. She prayed the hinges wouldn’t come loose from her extra weight. Although she was exhausted, she couldn’t sleep. It was the worst night of her life in a series of worst nights. Each one topped the next. What would tomorrow bring, plague and pestilence? She was in the right place for it, buried in trash.
She didn’t move when the train stopped, for fear that she’d be discovered. She heard a crew member tinkering around in the cab. Time slipped by, interminable. She wondered if la migra would invade every camp from here to the border.
Were they looking for her?
She reached for the empty space on her neck, where her butterfly pendant used to rest. Her cellphone was out of power, so she didn’t bother looking for her father’s reply. If anyone deserved the plague, it was him. He was the reason she was here, huddled with rats and stinking of garbage. He was the reason she’d been able to stay alive so far, too, but it was difficult to appreciate his life lessons at the moment. What kind of man taught his twelve-year-old daughter how to maim an attacker, handle automatic weapons, and evade police?
A seriously fucked-up one.
When she couldn’t stand the cramped space any longer, she climbed out and looked around. The railcar had no exit, other than a door leading to the conductor’s cab. She couldn’t go that way. She had to leave the same way she came in.
Off the Rails Page 14
