And as she was fast learning, this was a two-way street, with her touching him and finding that every stroke brought her as much pleasure as she gave. Her fingers played over the flex of muscles along his chest. She scored her nails lower, his washboard abs twitching into deeper refinement. His skin was like warm butterscotch, tempting her to…
She flicked her tongue along his collarbone, salty sweet and all hers. He ducked to capture her mouth and the minty taste of tea remained. Was everything about him perfect? Even the way he’d handled adversity with a humble strength. God, he was making her fall deeper in love with him by the day. By the hour.
And right now, by the caress.
Backing toward the bed, her legs tangled with his until the mattress met her calves and he lowered her onto the coarse tapestry spread, her feet still hanging off the bed. Before she could think, he knelt on the floor at the foot of the bed and leaned forward to press a lingering kiss to her stomach. His intent became abundantly clear as he hooked her legs over his shoulders and nuzzled the inside of her thigh.
Being so open and vulnerable to him could have been awkward, but everything with Jose just felt natural. Right. And utterly blissful. Pleasure rippled through her with each intuitive stroke of his tongue, every caress of his talented fingers. She ached to be closer to him, to feel him on top of her, inside her, and just the thought of that alone sent her the rest of the way over the edge. Her back arched into the release, again and again, her restless hands grasping at his head, his shoulders, urging him upward.
Somewhere in a distant functioning part of her brain she noticed how he sheathed himself before sliding upward, kneeling over her, moving with her up the bed. Every rasp against her super-sensitized skin made her shiver with aftershocks as she inched toward the piled pillows.
Her head sunk back into the downy softness as she clasped at Jose’s shoulders, unrecognizable murmurs rolling from her as she urged him closer. Yet, he still held back, driving her crazy with his mouth along her br**sts up to her neck, until finally, thank God, finally he kissed her with an incredible mixture of passion and tenderness. Then thrust inside her, stretched her, filled her, and she knew…
Their date, being together was absolutely perfect. So much so it scared her to think of losing him.
Chapter 7
Jose sensed the change in Stella when she woke, the way her breathing shifted in their small military quarters. He’d been with her so often, he knew the feel of her body asleep—and awake. She’d woken at least twenty minutes ago, but for whatever reason, she chose to keep her eyes closed while she rested her head on his shoulder.
At least she’d rested for more than six hours since the questioning in the hangar. He sure as hell wasn’t going to argue about holding her. He just stroked his hand along her shoulder, the memory of that night in Egypt so damn real in his head right now, he went hard at the images swimming in his mind. He’d known he loved her but suspected if he said it right after sex, she would have thought he was talking with his dick rather than his heart. So he’d waited for the right moment to tell her.
Not that it all mattered in the end. He should have been smarter, should have seen the train wreck before they both crashed full-on into a massive heartache that was still kicking his ass.
Before he could stop himself—and hell, he didn’t even want to stop—he kissed the top of her head. And how sappy was that? He was all choked up over nuzzling her hair. Her hair, for God’s sake. He’d been with this woman dozens of times, tasted every freckle on her body. He squeezed his eyes closed, resting his forehead on her and just breathing in the unique scent of her that overrode any shampoo.
Her hand fell to rest on his shoulder, signaling she was finally ready to admit to being awake.
He eased back to look in her eyes. “How do you feel?”
“Better, rested. Thank you.” Her fingers trailed down to his chest and his body twitched in reaction. “Jose, it would be horribly cliché of us to kiss right now… or more.”
His body went even harder against his fly in reaction to her words. “Clichés aren’t always bad.”
She closed her eyes tightly, resting her head against his shoulder. “Can we just talk? Just see if we can hang out here together? I don’t want to say good-bye yet, but honest to God, Jose, I can’t go back.”
Did she realize how her ni**les beaded against the robe, making him ache to sweep open the neck and take each peak in his mouth?
He decided to take hope from the fact that she wasn’t running out the door. He hugged an arm around her shoulder. “Stay put. The less you move the better it is for both of us.”
She looked up quickly.
He just winked.
Stella relaxed against his side. “I’ve said this before, but it bears repeating. This would be much easier if you could be a jackass.”
“There are a lot of things that could make this simpler, but life isn’t going to pave the way for us. So for now, let me just be glad you’re alive and we’ll just ignore the rest.” Like his raging erection. “Anything I can get for you? Food? Something to drink?”
“I’m good now. You were right. I was running on fumes before. I needed to recharge.” Rolling to her back, she pushed a hank of hair off her forehead. “Have you heard anything about the teenager? Or the other hostages?”
Even as they settled into a no-sex agreement, God, how easy it was to lay in a bed together and talk with the familiarity of lovers. How easy it would be to tug the tie on her robe and make them both forget the hellish past four weeks apart.
His hands clenched. “No earth-shattering news. Just a text from Bubbles a couple of hours ago.” He scooped his cell phone off the bedside table and double-checked. No new messages. He tossed it on the bed between them where it bounced once before settling. “The other hostages have been medically evaluated. Everyone was processed separately, so they think you’re simply in another room. Sutton and the others should be flying out and heading home within a few hours.”
“Which technically, I am.” She pushed against the mattress, sitting up.
And driving him crazy with the way her knee peeked between the part in her robe.
She hugged her knees. “And the boy? The code?”
“I’m sure Mr. Smith will contact you once he has something.”
“Waiting is tough.”
He knew that was an understatement for her. He’d seen just how hard it had been for her to walk away from decoding whatever message lurked in that cloth. Stella might not be the most overt with her emotions, but she took her job seriously and her methodical mind had an almost obsessive need to untangle puzzles. He had the feeling she’d probably been trying to break the code from memory even while she’d slept.
“Most high-risk jobs are ninety-nine percent waiting and one percent high-octane insanity.” He should roll out of bed, get dressed, and get the hell out of here. He should. But he stayed right where he was because being tempted with her was less painful than being without her. “You said you came here searching for answers about your mother, that you had unanswered questions about how she died. What do you think happened?”
He genuinely wanted to know, and the conversation seemed to be a safe passion douser. Besides, he understood that she needed a distraction before the mystery code drove her crazy. Knowing she hadn’t told him her suspicions about her mother’s death before now also made him question how close they’d really been before.
“I’m not sure exactly. I was fifteen when she died. The casket was closed.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, the only sign of emotion as she recited the facts coolly. “They said she sustained head injuries. Supposedly, she was alone driving in the rain and that she spun out into a tree. A branch… killed her.”
He didn’t care how calm her voice sounded. No one could be unaffected by that. He took her hand in his, linking fingers. “Not seeing her body had to have made things more difficult.”
“I only said the casket was closed. The funeral director still let us see her after he’d made her more… presentable. Her face was so puffy and distorted…” She swallowed hard. “They had to put a wig on her.”
“Perhaps seeing her wasn’t the best idea for a teenager after all.” He stroked his thumb back and forth along the speeding pulse in her wrist.
“I had nightmares for a long time.” She cut her eyes toward him. “I still do on occasion. Ones where that puffy face with a wig morphs back into the face I remember. She whispers to me to help her…”
“God, Stella…” To hell with distance. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and hauled her against his chest.
“Here’s the thing.” She gripped his T-shirt and he knew she held onto her self-control even tighter. “We were also given photos of the accident site and the crumpled vehicle being towed away.”
“Something’s bothering you.” He loved her analytical mind as much as he loved the rest of her. And obviously things hadn’t added up for her regarding how her mom had died.
“I could see the tire tracks leading up to the tree, right to the long, broken off branch. Except no matter how many times I looked at it, I came to the same conclusion.” A shuddering breath shook her shoulders. “The limb had to have gone through the passenger side. My mother wasn’t alone in that car and she wasn’t driving. Why did they lie? Who hurt her? Was that car accident even the cause of her death?”
She’d been solving mysteries even as a teenager. “What did your father have to say?”
“He insisted I was in denial from grief. He offered to get me everything from a new puppy to therapy. I just wanted my mom.” She touched his jaw. “But I guess you understand that. You know you tugged my heart that day monkey watching at the National Park. All those images of you as a kid hanging out at the zoo studying families… You still tug on my emotions, Jose.”
The talk of families rather than just mothers steered toward dangerous territory for them. “Stella…”
Sitting up, she put her fingers over his mouth. “I know. It’s not wise for us to discuss this, especially in a bed, but nothing about us has been smart or planned. I certainly didn’t bargain on finding someone like you when I came to Africa. I’d expected to find my Mr. Right once I put the past to rest.”
“Sorry to wreck your plans.” He kissed her fingers. “I mean that. But I am who I am.”
Damn it, if he could figure out a way around their different views for the future, he would. But they’d talked and talked this to death with no progress.
“For a man who’s so confident in the work world, I just don’t understand how you can’t see your strengths in your personal realm. I believe in you.”
Anger nipped at the edges of his already dissolving resolve. “Dumping me was a funny way of showing your faith in me.”
“I have so much faith in you I refuse to settle for anything but your one hundred percent.” She swung her legs off the edge of the bed. “I need to get dressed and go.”
And here they were again, at a f**king impasse. He reined in his anger with a gritty control that had carried him through marathons and missions. “Then I guess that’s my cue to get to work.”
He rolled to his feet and snagged his uniform jacket off the back of a chair.
“I’m sorry to have kept you from your team. You must have a lot to prep for the vice president’s wife’s visit.”
He buttoned up his uniform. “Actually, I’m not on call for that until tomorrow. So for now, you have a bodyguard.”
The best thing for both of them right now? To lose themselves in work. Completely.
That didn’t mean for a second that he was backing off. For whatever reason, she’d landed in his life again and every second with her only reinforced one glaring fact.