Flirting with Disaster (20 page)

He grabbed her by the upper arms and hauled her to her feet. Breathing hard, he turned and pressed her to the shower wall.

“Guess I’d make a lousy cop,” she said. “I didn’t move fast enough with the handcuffs.”

Dave leaned in and kissed her neck, feeling her pulse beating wildly in her throat, then nipped her earlobe. “I don’t think you want me restrained.”

In the darkness, he moved his hands to her breasts, finding them still slick with soapsuds. He squeezed them firmly, his thumbs strumming her nipples, then moved his hand down between her legs, cupping the soft flesh of her inner thigh before easing upward to meet her hot, slick cleft. She exhaled, her fingertips digging into his shoulders as he stroked her there, her hips rocking slightly, her breath coming faster.

Yes.
This was what he wanted. To hear her anticipation, to feel her move against him, to sense her rising excitement. Suddenly he hated the darkness, wishing he could watch her face, wishing he could see her expression reflecting the pleasure he wanted her to feel. Then all at once she took his hand, stilling it.

“What?” he asked.

She pulled back the shower curtain with the clink of metal rings and a blast of cool air. A moment later she closed it again. He heard a small tearing sound and realized that she’d grabbed a condom. Her hand searched for him in the darkness, met his chest, then slid it down to his cock, where she rolled the condom in place. Then she circled her hands around his neck, her warm breath only a scant inch from his lips, her voice low and hoarse.

“Just fuck me.”

Getting zapped with a stun gun couldn’t have matched the jolt of pure lust that shot through him. When she took his cock and pressed it between her legs, he sank into her with a groan of satisfaction, astonished at how incredible it felt to be inside her again. He took her right up against the shower wall with swift, powerful strokes, engulfed in darkness, water beating down on them like a rainstorm. She curled one heel around his calf to open herself more to him and pull him in more deeply. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, trying to maintain some semblance of control, but still he was shaking, his muscles tense, his heart beating unmercifully. She was so hot. So wet. And he was so unbelievably close.

“Yes,” she whispered as he pounded into her relentlessly. “Just like that.
Yes.
”

She shifted slightly to take him deeper yet, whispering in his ear the whole time, driving him right to the peak of excitement. He felt the rising pressure and froze, poised on the edge, and in the next moment an orgasm blasted through him, hitting him with the intensity of a battering ram. He thrust wildly, feeling as if he were being torn apart from the inside out. Lisa kept pace with his final strokes, driving herself against him, her breath reduced to short, hard gasps.

He clung to her as the sensations wound down, dropping his head against her shoulder, every muscle in his body falling limp with satisfaction. He slid out of her and backed against the adjacent shower wall, pulling her up against him, enveloping her in his arms as the last tremors of pleasure faded away.

“That was good,” he murmured, still breathing heavily. “So good.”

She pressed a kiss to his lips, then slipped out of his arms. To his surprise, he heard the jingle of shower curtain rings again as she stepped out of the shower.

What was she doing now?

When Dave thought his legs would carry him, he turned off the water, the knobs squeaking as the shower was silenced. In the darkness, he found his way out of the shower, felt for the door, and opened it just enough for the pale moonlight from the other room to light his way to a towel.

He ran the towel through his dripping hair as he walked out of the bathroom. He saw Lisa lying on her side, her elbow resting on the bed, wearing that same watchful, knowing expression she had out on the patio.

He dried off a little, then tossed the towel aside. With a huge exhalation, he lay down beside her, his hand against his chest, wondering if it was possible for his heart to burst right out of it. Turning, he saw her staring down at him, her green eyes like a pair of emeralds on fire.

“I think you’re going to kill me,” he told her between breaths. “Hell, I don’t know. Maybe you already did.”

To his surprise, she took his hand and pulled him over until he was lying on his stomach.

“What are you doing?”

She put one hand against his shoulder to keep him from rising, grabbing the lotion from the nightstand with her other one. She apologized for the floral scent, then straddled his hips. She touched him, her hands cold at first with the lotion, but they quickly warmed as she moved them over his back in long, sensual strokes. He moved his arms up to hug the pillow, sighing with satisfaction as her thumbs moved deep into the muscles along his spine.

He’d discovered tonight what he’d always suspected—this woman did nothing halfway. She poured her heart, her soul, her passion into everything, whether it was becoming a pilot, going after the bad guys, or making love with him. And it had been incredible. He’d never been with a woman who was so attuned to every move he made, reading every sigh, every groan, every involuntary clench of his muscles, making every moment wild, hot, and exciting.

And now every inch of his body felt limp with contentment, his mind pleasantly foggy, as she brought him to the other end of the spectrum, capping off total tension with total relaxation. It was as if she knew exactly what to do to wring that last bit of pleasure and satisfaction out of him until he was completely spent.

Then he thought about Carla.

He held his breath for a moment, waiting for the shot of guilt he knew was coming. But just as quickly as she’d come to mind, she shifted away again, becoming only a faint apparition in the distance that he could barely make out. He felt the strangest swell of relief, like an asthmatic who is suddenly able to breathe. Lisa had been a release, a reprieve he thought was completely beyond his grasp. For these few hours tonight, she’d made him forget. And God, if nothing else, he owed her for that.

She leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “Good?” “Too good,” he murmured. “You keep that up, and I’m liable to fall asleep.”

As she continued to rub his back, he sighed deeply, thinking that there had to be another human being on earth who felt better than he did right now, but he couldn’t imagine it. As the last of his energy slipped away, he closed his eyes, knowing that opening them again would be an insurmountable task. Her hands were still on him, moving, always moving, as he drifted off to sleep.

As it grew later, the light dimmed with the shifting moon, painting the room in pale monochromatic tones. Lisa leaned against the headboard, her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms tucked around her legs. Dave’s steady breathing told her he’d quickly fallen into a deep sleep. He needed it. They both did. But just for now, all she wanted to do was stare at him.

His body was little more than silhouette, but even that much was impressive—strong shoulders and a broad, muscled back tapering down to his waist. He was hugging the pillow where he lay, his arms flexed, biceps bulging. She thought maybe he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, and she’d seen her share. That was part of the problem, of course—that she was so attracted to him and always had been, so much so that she was in danger of losing her head every time she even thought about him touching her.

She leaned her head back against the wall with a weary sigh, so tired she could barely keep her eyes open. She’d gotten so caught up in the spell of it, in the desire she’d felt for him since she was eighteen years old, that she’d have done anything to have him tonight. But that meant that tomorrow would only be that much more painful. She had no doubt that Dave would feel guilty when he thought about Carla and angry at Lisa for pushing him into betraying her memory. Neither of those things was the least bit justified, but that wouldn’t stop him from feeling them just the same.

She lay down and pulled the covers over her, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him as he slept. Instead, she closed her eyes, telling herself that it was time to stop with the adolescent fantasies. Right now she saw him as some kind of knight in shining armor, but that wasn’t reality. It wasn’t the long haul. In truth, he was a father and a family man, with the kind of nine-to-five existence that would only tie her down.

She’d built the kind of life she’d only dreamed about as a teenager. In a world where most people went to their graves never having accomplished anything they set out to do, she could hold her head up and say that she had. And she wasn’t finished yet. Not by a long shot. She still had a hundred places she wanted to go, a thousand people she wanted to meet. There was always something new beyond the next horizon, something bigger, better, and more exciting than the place she’d just left.

She and Dave were on different tracks that had intersected for a few brief moments in time, but soon they’d be going their separate ways again. It could end no other way.

chapter twelve

Adam slowly became aware of pale rays of daylight warming his face and a gentle breath of air fanning around him. He opened his eyes, but his vision was blurry. His head hurt. God, how it hurt, as if somebody were pounding on it with a hammer from the inside out.

Where was he?

He turned his head to the left, where he saw a fuzzy blob that looked like an intravenous fluid bag. It said
hospital
. But something wasn’t right. The bag was hanging from something unfamiliar. A coatrack?

He blinked to clear his sight, then slowly moved his gaze to the ceiling of the room, expecting to see a blank painted surface with fluorescent lighting. Instead the ceiling vaulted upward to bare wooden rafters. And the smell. It wasn’t the antiseptic odor of a hospital room but something much warmer and fresher, like outdoors. Turning, he saw that instead of heavy draperies hanging over plate glass, lace curtains fluttered at an open window.

He looked down at himself, blinking again to clear his bleary eyes. A bandage was wrapped around his chest just under his arms, with another one lower that bound his left arm to his body, immobilizing it. Looking lower still, he saw a flowered sheet pulled up to his waist. Glancing around the room, he saw an oak dresser, an overstuffed chair, a small portable television. A quilt lay folded at the foot of the bed.

Slowly it came back to him, like a movie playing inside his head, first out of focus, then slowly becoming sharper. A gunshot. Falling down a rocky hillside. Lying at the foot of that hill, feeling his life draining away.

There’s your explanation. You’re dead, and this is heaven.

Nothing else made any sense, except he couldn’t imagine heaven needing a hospital, even one as ethereal as this. Then he rolled his head to the right and decided that his afterlife theory was making more sense all the time.

Serafina Cordero was lying on the bed next to him.

One of her hands was curled beneath her chin, her eyes closed in sleep. Dark eyelashes fanned against olive skin, with long black-as-night hair that spilled across the flowered pillowcase beneath her head. Her other hand rested against his arm, slender fingers grazing his wrist.

Sera’s house. How in the hell had he gotten here?

Putting a hand to his forehead, he felt a bandage, then moved his hand enough to realize that it wound completely around his head. He tried to sit up, but pain shot through his head and chest so wildly that it took his breath away. He fell back against the pillow, groaning softly.

Sera’s eyes instantly fluttered open. She rose on one elbow, her hand tightening against his arm. “Adam?”

“Damn. Thought this was heaven.” He let out a tortured breath. “Too much pain for heaven.”

Sera sat up quickly, her brows pulled together with worry. She moved to the edge of the bed and grabbed a blood pressure cuff from the nightstand. She crawled back to Adam, wrapped the cuff around his arm, inflated it, then dropped the stethoscope to the inside crook of his elbow.

“Sera?”

“Hush.”

She listened intently, then slipped the cuff off his arm, with a gentle breath of relief. She put her hand against his cheek again, then put a thermometer in his mouth.

“No fever,” she said a minute later, and he could hear the relief in her voice. “How do you feel?”

He touched his fingertips gingerly to the bandage on his forehead. “Head hurts like hell,” he said in a dry, raspy voice. “And my chest.”

Sera reached for a glass of water and helped him drink. His head pounded unmercifully, but the water soothed his dry throat. He settled back against the pillow with a weary sigh.

“Do you remember what happened?” Sera asked.

“Gunshot,” he said. “My chest. And I hit my head. . . .” He paused as the events slowly became clearer in his mind. “I fell down a hillside. How did I get here?”

“Gabrio brought you.”

“Gabrio?”

“Yes. Do you remember that?”

No. Wait. Yes, he did. He remembered a voice coming out of nowhere. Now he realized it had belonged to Gabrio.
Dr.
Decker. Hey, man. Can you hear me?

Adam blinked, shifting a little in the bed, slowly becoming more lucid. Gradually it came back to him. Gabrio had made Ivan and Enrique believe he was dead, and then he’d brought him here. The reality of that struck Adam almost as hard as the gunshot had.