Hell on Wheels (30 page)

Nate grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen and twisted off the cap. Throwing four gel caps to the back of his throat, he tilted his head and swallowed.

“Are you in a lot of pain?” she asked as she eyed the gauze bandages, checking to see if he was bleeding through. He wasn’t, thank goodness.

“A bit,” he shrugged his good shoulder. “But it’s really just a flesh wound.”

“‘A flesh wound? You’re bloody arm’s off!’” Okay, so her British accent could use some work.

He lifted a dark brow.

“Oh come on,” she raised a hand. “You know,
Monty
Python
and
the
Holy
Grail
?”

The look he sent her clearly questioned her sanity.

“Sheesh, just when I think you might be normal…” she shook her head and started tidying the mess they’d made.

“We are the knights who say
ni
!” he declared in a pretty convincing accent, and she swung around to face him, her mouth slung open. He grinned. “You really don’t know me at all, do you?”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Mine, I guess.”

“Yeah, good guess.”

“Can’t help it,” he grumbled. “When you’re around, I have difficulty hidin’ this,” he motioned to the bulge behind his zipper, “so I usually just avoid you.”

Now her mouth was hanging open for a completely different reason. “Really? After racing for fifteen hours across the country on the back of a bike that vibrates enough to rattle every single tooth out of your head, after getting shot and having my fingers shoved in your
bullet
wound
, you’re still able to think about sex? You really must be insane.”

“Blame it on the adrenaline rush.”

“Fine. So…” she took a step toward him. “Let’s do something about it.”

“
What?
” He looked like she’d just told him they should shave their heads and join the Hare Krishnas.

“You heard me.” And there was nothing to stop them, no one around, and despite his repeated rejection and his assertion he didn’t want to physically react to her, it was obvious, really, really obvious—given that substantial bulge—that his mind and his body were on two different pages.

She tended to side with his body because, to put it simply, she wanted him. Like she’d never wanted a man before in her life.

Perhaps it had something to do with the not-so-small fact she might be in love with him. Or perhaps it was simply that it had been a long time coming. Whichever, it didn’t really matter, because both reasons only supported her assertion they should give in to their desires.

And if she
did
love him—okay, she did—didn’t she deserve at least one night in his arms?

“No.” He shook his head, eyeing her approach like a cobra eyes a mongoose.

***

“Why?”

“Why what?” Oh, Nate knew what she was asking, but he desperately searched for a way to stall, because he just couldn’t for the life of him come up with a plausible excuse to—

“Why won’t you make love to me?”

Uh, yep.
That
was the question he couldn’t bring himself to answer since Ali wasn’t the kind of woman to take a night’s pleasure and vanish. Hell no. And to offer her anything more was out of the question, given he’d then be compelled to admit he’d killed her brother and
lied
to her about it, which…no, that just wasn’t gonna happen.

“Uh…”

“Because it’s obvious your body is totally onboard with the idea. And you admitted you like me.” She was standing in front of him, so close he could still make out the subtle aroma of her honeysuckle fabric softener even after a day spent on the back of a bike. “I like you—”

He shot her a startled look.

She shook her head and chuckled and all he could think was,
geez, her hair looks good all wild and windblown
.

“Well, I like you
most
of the time, anyway. The other times I usually don’t know whether I want to strangle you or kiss you. And that’s kinda my whole point, you know? The fact that even when you’re making me crazy, I still think maybe I want to kiss you? So…” she made a helpless little gesture with her hands, “why? Why can’t we give in and scratch this itch?”

There was a sudden humming in the air. It licked over his skin like an electric tongue, raising goose bumps.

“Uh…”

“And if you’re calling a halt because of loyalty to Grigg, because you think you’d owe me, his baby sister, more than a one-night stand, you’re wrong.”

Whoa. What? Did she just say one-night stand?

“I know your type,” she continued with a seductive little grin. “Heck, I grew up with a guy who was exactly you’re type. Love ’em and leave ’em, you know?”

“Ali—”

Oh, Lord. She moved to stand between his legs and her pert little breasts were right there.
In
his
face
.

What was he about to say? Something. Something important, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember.

“Nate,” she whispered his name and lifted a hand to run her fingers through his hair. Chills raced down his spine.

“Hmm?” he asked, mesmerized by the unsurpassable vista in front of his eyes and the feel of her,
her
touching him…on purpose.

She chuckled again, and it was the sound of a siren. Low and sexy and goddamned irresistible. He wasn’t consciously aware of movement, but at some point he lifted his right hand to cup the back of her thigh, urging her forward until he could bury his nose in the sweet smelling valley between her lovely, lovely breasts.

“You said my name,” she replied and covered his hand on the back of her thigh with her own, encouraging him upward until he was cupping her full, firm ass.

Lord in heaven.

“I was saying yours in return,” she explained in an indulgent tone.

What? What was she chattering about? It was impossible to comprehend anything with her soft breasts cuddling his cheeks and her subtle, honeysuckle scent making his head spin.

This had to stop.

She may talk big about a one-night stand, but she didn’t mean it. Did she…?

With the reluctance of a starving man walking away from an all-you-can-eat buffet, he dropped his hand and stood, causing her to step back. She glanced up at him quizzically, then gifted him with a knowing little smile. The same one women have been smiling for centuries. The one Da Vinci immortalized in the
Mona Lisa
.

He was in trouble.

And, yep, right on cue she stepped forward, went up on tiptoe, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Oh, man. He should’ve stayed seated, because now she was pressed all along his length. And it was delicious and distracting and goddamned
dangerous
. He was starting to forget all the reasons he was resisting her. They were important reasons, weren’t they?

He was certain they were, even though he couldn’t manage to recall them when she grabbed his ears to pull him down for a kiss.

Reasons…important reasons…

Her breath brushed against his lips, and he groaned.

Reasons!

“We have to stop this, Ali. We have to—”

“No,” she gave up trying to catch his lips and instead trailed a string of wet kisses across his jaw. “I’m not stopping this time, and you’re out of excuses. You say there are things I don’t know about you? Well, I don’t care about them. You don’t want a commitment? Well, I’m not asking for one.”

“Grigg,” he managed to croak, congratulating himself on finally,
finally
managing to come up with a plausible excuse.

“What about him?” she pulled back and stared into his face, her lips already pink from the abrasion of his beard stubble. He lost a couple of layers of enamel on his back molars when the sight of those plump lips brought to mind another part of her anatomy that would be soft and pink.

“He wouldn’t approve.” Yes!
That’s
where he’d been going.

“Of course he would.” The look she gave him was amused and indulgent. “He always told me you were the best man he’d ever known and I could do a whole lot worse than you.”

He jerked his head back when she would’ve resumed her deliciously maddening nibbling. “What? He always told
me
he’d kill me if I laid a finger on you.”

The indulgent smile she gave him was the facial equivalent of
well, duh
. “Of course, he did, you big silly. That’s what older brothers say to guys who are interested in getting into their little sister’s pants. What did you expect?”

What
had
he expected?

“He really told y’that? That you could do a lot worse than me?”

“Yes,” she started nipping on his neck again. “But my plan is to do my worst
to
you. How does that sound?”

How did it sound? Like he’d died and gone to heaven.

Sweet Jesus, did he dare?

What was she asking of him really? Nothing more than one night of pleasure and, wonder of wonders, it just so happened indulging a woman’s pleasure was one of his specialties, given the tutelage of a nice, widowed Brazilian lady.

Funny, he hadn’t thought of Raquel Silva in years, but maybe he shouldn’t be surprised she popped into his head now.

On their very first nerve-wracking assignment, he and Grigg had spent a long, hot month doing recon on their target and staying in Raquel’s little boathouse. The days had been filled with waiting and watching and copious note taking. The nights, though…oh, the nights had been filled with something totally different.

And despite the fact that randy young men were known to engage in a little locker room talk, neither he nor Grigg had spoken about their experiences with Raquel in all the years to follow that first mission, as if verbalizing the intimacy would taint the spirituality of it somehow.

And it
had
been spiritual. A broadening of mind, body, and soul.

Though they’d been highly trained soldiers, it’d been obvious to both of them they’d arrived at Raquel’s boathouse that sweltering South American summer as boys. By the time they’d left, that sweet Brazilian lady had turned them into men.

And oh buddy, how many times had he fantasized about showing Ali everything he’d learned? How many times had he played out each individual caress of his callused fingertips, each laving pass of his tongue, each heavy stroke of his body into hers?

Countless. That’s how many. Countless. And he had his chance to make all his fantasies reality.

She was asking him for one night. One night of indulgence, one night of passion and memories. After all the years of denial and sacrifice, didn’t he deserve to take this one night and make love to the only woman who’d ever touched his heart?

Probably not. Someone like him, someone who’d seen and done so many dark, vile things, someone who’d crawled around in the rancid sewer of humanity was surely unworthy to lay a hand on someone like her. Someone as clean and pure and radiant as sunshine.

So no. He didn’t deserve this one night. But, God help him, he was going to take it.

Chapter Fifteen

Suddenly Ali’s back was slammed up against the bathroom wall, and Nate’s tongue was introducing itself to all of her teeth, and…yeah…there went her shirt. He literally ripped it from her shoulders.

Holy
crap!

Now she knew what people felt when they talked about the world tilting on its axis. Right at that moment, she didn’t know which way was up.

He cupped her breast, lifting it, weighing it. And then her bra was miraculously gone. She didn’t know how it happened or precisely when—which just proved this wasn’t Nate’s first rodeo—but she was suddenly bare, and his mouth was there.

Oh hot.

It was so hot, the hard pull of his lips at her nipple, the gentle scrape of his teeth. That was the deciding moment, right there, right then. The turning point. It could go either way. She could pull back, and he’d slow it down. He’d gentle his hunger and sweetly see to her needs, like he’d done that day on the beach.

But she didn’t want sweet. And she certainly didn’t want gentle.

All she wanted, all she could think of, was getting him inside her. Having him fill her with his hard length and thrusting until the friction became unbearable and she exploded into a thousand pieces of ecstasy.