She whimpered, every exhalation a moan, her nails digging like talons into his hips, as if to draw him deeper inside her, her head going back as a second orgasm claimed her, her body shuddering beneath him, clenching around him.
He was on fire now, burning . . . burning for Natalie . . . His hips a piston, driving into her . . . Her slick vagina gripping him like a fist . . . He wanted, needed her . . . Her mouth on his skin . . . Her hips rising to meet his . . . “You’re so . . . damned . . . beautiful!”
With his last ounce of control, he pulled out of her, his entire body screaming in protest. His wet cock hovered above her for just a second before erupting into spasms, white ribbons of cum shooting onto her belly, a frustrated climax stuttering through him.
That’s what you get for not having a condom handy, McBride.
With that thought, he sank onto her, sweaty and spent.
HAPPILY EXHAUSTED, NATALIE watched Zach wipe semen off her belly with a hot, wet washcloth, his lips trailing little kisses across her clean, wet skin. She let her fingers wander through his hair and along his stubble-rough jaw, trying to ignore a growing sense of guilt, desperate to hold on to this feeling—the languid afterglow of great sex.
But the guilt was there, niggling at her, refusing to go away.
She didn’t feel bad that she’d had sex with Zach. And she certainly didn’t feel guilty for enjoying it. And she had enjoyed it, every unbelievable minute of it.
But what she’d realized—and what had begun to gnaw at her—was the fact that not once during the time she and Zach were making love had she thought of Beau.
ZACH HELD NATALIE, watched her sleep, his own eyelids heavy, a warm knot of emotion in his chest. He knew he should kick his own ass, but he wasn’t going to. He’d broken his own rules—and he didn’t give a damn. There was no way to undo what he’d done tonight, and he wouldn’t undo it even if he could.
He’d broken down in front of her, let the weakness inside of him show. But she hadn’t turned away from him. She hadn’t judged him. Instead, she’d accepted him, comforted him, given herself to him.
He’d never known a woman like Natalie.
But he didn’t want to hurt her. He was going to have to be honest so she’d understand. Just because they’d had sex didn’t mean they had a future. He hadn’t been joking when he’d said his life wasn’t the kind of life a man shared with a woman. He was rarely home. He spent most of his time on assignment. And unless he was very careful, he’d wind up in a body bag. He didn’t want to put any woman through that.
But it wasn’t just the dangerous and demanding job.
It was him.
He’d spent a good nine months trying to get back in the swing of everyday civilian life after his discharge from the navy, but it hadn’t worked. His nightmares had gotten so bad that he’d eventually come to dread sleeping. He’d taken up drinking, hoping to knock himself out, to drown his demons in scotch. But that hadn’t worked. As for gainful employment, he hadn’t been able to find, much less keep, a decent job. How was a man supposed to go from fighting in a war to sitting at a damned desk all day?
It hadn’t been long after that that he’d seen a recruitment ad for the U.S. Marshal Service. And he’d known that was the answer—going back to war. Granted, the war the Marshal Service fought was very different than the one he’d fought while in the navy. But it was the same basic principle—find the bad guys and deal with them. Zach had embraced that mission and never looked back.
But the bottom line was that he didn’t know how to live a civilian life any longer. He could never be the family man with the house in the suburbs, the wife, the two kids, and the dog. The only way he knew how to go on was to keep fighting.
Natalie deserved a full and happy life with a man who wasn’t fucked up or in the line of fire, and he aimed to see she got her chance at it. He would get her safely home even if it cost him every last drop of his blood. But then they would go their separate ways. It sucked for him, really, because if ever he’d met a woman who made him feel . . .
No, he couldn’t let himself go there.
He glanced over to make sure the Glock was on the nightstand, then closed his eyes, held her closer, and let sleep take him. This time, he didn’t dream.
CHAPTER 14
NATALIE WOULD NEVER again take for granted the simple pleasure of waking up in a man’s embrace. Her body floating, she opened her eyes to find her head resting on Zach’s chest, their legs twined together, one strong arm wrapped protectively around her. He was still asleep, his breathing deep and even. She closed her eyes and dozed, savoring the feeling of lying skin to skin beside him, refusing to let herself think.
When she awoke again, he was still asleep, one arm around her, the other stretched over his head. Somehow the two of them had kicked off the sheet, which was now tangled around their knees, leaving them both exposed. Though they’d made love last night, she hadn’t gotten so much as a glimpse of that part of him. But now with daylight filtering through the curtains, all she could do was stare.
Oh . . . my . . . stars!
To say he was well endowed was an understatement. Soft but not small, his penis lay across the upper part of his right thigh, the glans pointing toward her, veins visible just beneath the skin of the shaft. It was rooted in a thatch of dark hair, his testicles relaxed against his thighs, the left one lower than the right. She found the sight of him primal, erotic, beautiful.
She let her gaze travel upward, over his six-pack and up to his chest, with its well-defined pecs and dark, flat nipples. Although she didn’t want to wake him, she couldn’t resist touching him, her fingers trailing through the dark curls on his chest, her thoughts returning to last night.
She didn’t regret it—having sex with him. She’d gone so long without a man’s touch. And Zach’s touch was magic, giving her back a part of herself that she’d thought she’d lost. Yes, sex with Beau had been wonderful. But sex with Zach had been wonderful, too—and very intense.
Just like the man.
Everything about last night had been perfect. The way he’d kissed her as if his life depended on it. The way he’d taken his time with her, not rushing things. The way he’d held himself back, bringing her to that second astonishing climax. The way he’d met her gaze as he’d come, a pleading look in his eyes, an expression akin to pain on his face, every muscle in his body straining.
You’re so . . . damned . . . beautiful!
Although she’d entirely forgotten about contraception, he hadn’t. He’d pulled out in good time, sacrificing some of his own pleasure for her. She wouldn’t have expected that kind of thoughtfulness from a man who lived on the dark side.
Signs of the life he lived were still on his body—bruises, scrapes, faded burn marks. The sound of his tortured cries echoed in her mind—and she found herself wanting somehow to erase that pain, to give him pleasure.
She let her fingers have their way with him, following an irresistible line of hair down his belly to his groin. Then, she took him in hand and began to stroke the soft length of him, gently moving her hand down to the base, then back up again to the tip.
He groaned in his sleep, his hips shifting as his penis began to fill, growing thick and firm in her hand. She stroked him harder now, excited by the feel of him, a little bead of moisture pearling at the tip. Then he gasped, his abdominal muscles jerking, and she glanced up to find him looking down at her, an expression of astonishment on his handsome face, his gray eyes smoky with arousal.
“Jesus!” He reached down, closed a hand over hers to guide her, increasing the pressure, his hips rocking so that he thrust smoothly into her fist.
She kissed his chest, ran her tongue over a tight, flat nipple, then nibbled him, her heart racing. It felt right to give him pleasure. After all he’d suffered . . .
His rhythm quickened until his hips bucked wildly, his fingers clenched in her hair, his body strung tight, muscles straining. She increased the pressure slightly and felt hi
m stiffen. Then he arched and shuddered, a deep groan tearing itself from his throat as he came in her hand.
It was she who went for the hot washcloth this time, his gaze following her as she climbed back into bed and carefully wiped him clean, the friction and heat of the washcloth making the muscles of his belly jerk. Then she snuggled up against him, his arm going around her, holding her close.
He made a contented sound deep in his throat, his fingertips stroking lazy lines down the skin of her back. “That’s one hell of a way to wake a man up, angel. I thought all you Cajun girls were good little Catholics.”
She laughed, then gave him her most innocent smile. “Why, yes, we are. But you’re forgetting—we’re French.”
“Ah. In that case . . .” He bit the tip of his tongue, then drew it back into his mouth, slowly pushing her onto her back, a grin on his face, his eyes full of mischief, a playfulness about him she’d never seen before.
She felt a hard flutter in her belly, pretty certain she knew what he meant to do.
He rolled on top of her, then slowly slid down her body. “I want to taste—”
Thumpthumpthump!
Someone beat on the door.
In an instant, Zach was out of bed, gun in his hand. He hissed at her in a whisper. “Get to the bathroom!”
Thumpthumpthump!
Heart thudding, Natalie jumped out of bed, ran to the bathroom, and stepped into the tub, drawing the shower curtain into place, suddenly feeling very naked. If she had to deal with those Zeta bastards again, she’d rather do it with her clothes on.
Thumpthumpthump!
“¡Servicio de mucama!” A woman’s voice. The housekeeper?
“Por favor no me molestes. No necesito servicio de limpieza . Quiero dormir tranquilo.”
Natalie understood most of that. Zach had just asked the woman not to disturb him and said he wanted to sleep in peace. The rest of it had gotten by her.
“Sí, señor. Gracias.”
“You can come out. It’s just the maid.”
Natalie heaved a sigh of relief and stepped out of the shower. But the interruption had broken the fragile bubble that had surrounded them since last night. Reality had intruded.
Zach glanced at the clock, the playfulness gone. “It’s noon already? Shit.”
“You needed the sleep.” Natalie sat on the bed, covering herself with the sheet.
“We’ve got a big day ahead of us.” He walked toward the bathroom, small gun in one hand, AK-47 in the other, clearly in military mode again. “I’m going to take a quick shower, grab us some breakfast, and then we need to talk. If anyone knocks at the door, come straight into the bathroom. Don’t respond in any way.”
She watched, puzzled. “You’re going to take a shower—with your guns?”
“I’m not actually going to take them into the shower. I just want them close by.” Then he turned, a grin on his face, some of the playfulness returning. “You know, if you’re going to hang with me, you need to learn the correct terminology.”
He held up the AK-47, the muscles of his arm bunching against the weight. “This is an assault rifle.”
Then he held up the handgun. “This is a semi-automatic pistol.”
Then he gave a little thrust of his hips and looked down at his penis. “That is my gun. As you’ve discovered, it’s pumpaction like a shotgun, but it doesn’t fire bullets.”
Then he shut the door behind him, leaving Natalie to giggle into her pillow.
ZACH RAN THE soap over his skin, working up a lather, his body still strung out from that unexpected orgasm. Strange to think that three days ago he’d been in the worst pain of his life and close to dying. Today, he’d awoken in heaven.
He’d been dreaming that he was making love to Natalie, his dick buried deep inside her. It had felt so real. His heart had almost stopped when he’d opened his eyes to find that what he was feeling was real, the sight of her hand on his cock shocking him wide awake. He wouldn’t have guessed she’d do something as bold as that, but then she was full of surprises.
French, huh?
Too bad he hadn’t had the chance to show her what he’d learned to do with his tongue when he was on shore leave in France.
This isn’t what you should be thinking about right now, man.
No, it wasn’t. He needed to get them some breakfast and then go shopping for supplies, which would mean either leaving Natalie alone in the hotel or locking her in the trunk for hours. He didn’t like either option, so he needed to find another.
He also needed to find a way to explain that just because they’d had sex didn’t mean they had a relationship. He wanted to do this right, to find a way to tell her without hurting her. She was without a doubt the most amazing woman he’d ever met—smart, strong, sweet, sexy.
He mulled this problem over while he washed his hair and rinsed himself off, thinking about what he would say, how he would say it. And as he turned off the water it hit him in a way that it hadn’t before—and he didn’t like it.
In four days at the most, Natalie would be out of his life.
ZACH FINISHED OFF his third breakfast burrito and started in on a banana. “If I leave the backseats down, the trunk won’t be dark, and you’ll be able to see out. I’ll pile the supplies in the backseat, so it will get crowded. And it will get hot. You’ll be in the car with the windows rolled up. Do you think you can handle it?”
“It’s better than being left in this room alone.” She dabbed her lips with a paper napkin, not yet finished with her first breakfast burrito. “I’d feel like a sitting duck.”
“That’s not what I asked.” He leaned forward, his gaze locked with hers. “Do you think you can handle it?”
She looked away, nibbling her lip, clearly thinking it through and clearly worried. Then she nodded. “Yes, I can. Can you check on me from time to time?”
“I will as often as I can, but I still have to buy a lot of things and stand in line in the checkout lane. I have no control over how long that will take.”
“I understand.”
“There’s something else we need to talk about.” Zach tossed the banana peel in the trash, took a moment to line his words up in the right order. He reached out, ran a finger over her cheek. “Last night was incredible. We didn’t plan it, but it happened. I can’t bring myself to regret it, and I hope to God you don’t either.”
She looked away, a shadow passing quickly over her face. Then she met his gaze through clear blue eyes. “I don’t regret it. It was . . . perfect.”
Perfect.
She sure as hell was.
Maybe that’s why what he had to say next didn’t come easily. “When we get back to the U.S., you and I will go our separate ways. That’s just how it is. My life—it’s not the kind of life a man shares with a woman. I don’t want to mislead you, and I don’t want to hurt you, so—”
“Relax. It was just sex.” Natalie stood, turned her back to him, and carried her paper plate and burrito wrapper to the trash. “It’s not like I could get serious with a man who lives the way you do.”
“Right.” That was exactly Zach’s point.
Good. She understood.
So why did he suddenly feel like shit?
THEY LEFT ALTAR after supper—and after Zach had given Natalie some basic firearms instruction for both the Glock and the AK. Her hair still damp from one last shower, she sat in the passenger seat, wearing brown camo fatigues, a tan T-shirt, and a brown camo jacket. A fully loaded semi-auto Glock 17 sat in her lap, an AK-47 leaning against her thigh, her gaze drawn to every license plate in search of the dreaded Z as Zach drove the car north along the rutted dirt road to a place he called El Sasabe.
“Don’t forget to breathe.” Looking every bit the military man, he wore camo fatigues, too, his eyes concealed behind new sunglasses, two semi-autos hidden beneath his jacket in a shoulder holster. “Do as I say, and we’ll get through this.”
She drew in a deep breath, her stomach swarming with butte
rflies. It was bad enough to think that they were going to spend the next four days walking through this inhospitable landscape. But knowing that the Zetas were on this road and looking for them made things much worse.
Zach had overheard a couple of federales talking about it outside the Pesquiera Hermanos, Altar’s big grocery store. He’d played the role of gringo tourist and chatted with them about it. They’d told him that the Zetas had put up roadblocks on every road leading to a U.S. port of entry from Tijuana to Loredo and were searching cars at gunpoint. That included El Sasabe. No one knew why the Zetas were doing this, but word on the street was that a shipment of cocaine had been stolen and Cárdenas was trying to catch the thieves—and make them pay.
The good news was that the Zetas clearly had no idea where he and Natalie were. Zach’s plan for evading them had worked—so far.
The car bounced over the rough dirt road, the washboard bumps making her teeth rattle. “How far are we going to be walking total?”
“I’m guessing it will be about forty miles.”
“That’s not so bad.” She’d run in a few 10K races. That was six miles.
He glanced over at her, his eyes concealed behind sunglasses. “If you say so.”
Despite the rough condition of the road, traffic was heavy, kicking up plumes of dust that made it hard to see. “There are so many vans and trucks. It’s like rush hour.”
“Drug traffickers mostly. Some human traffickers. They’re trying to reach El Sasabe before sundown and get set for tonight.”
It unnerved Natalie to be surrounded by them. “I hope one day you’ll tell me how you know that.”
He said nothing.
His plan was to leave the highway on the outskirts of El Sasabe and drive as far as the car could take them along the dirt roads that fanned out like tentacles around the town and ran across the desert toward the border. Once the car died—which Zach had assured her would be sooner rather than later—they’d put on the enormous backpacks that sat in the backseat and go on foot.