His to Take (27 page)

A family emerged from a minivan, looking road weary. Mom herded the three kids and
all their toys toward the entrance while Dad grabbed the luggage.

From inside the hotel, a couple emerged. The woman glanced around clandestinely, then
turned to the man. He kissed her passionately. When they broke apart, she looked at
her watch and fished into her purse for her keys. She wore a wedding ring. He didn’t.
They headed toward separate cars. Bailey wondered if that woman’s husband had any
idea that she had a lover or if he’d been ignoring the signs of problems at home.

Another man in a hoodie parked near the front of the hotel and hopped out of a silver
sedan, hands shoved in the jacket’s front pockets. Was he the woman’s cuckolded husband?
Bailey wondered, as he scanned the parking lot. His gaze fell on her for a long, frightening
moment. His flat eyes looked dead. Bailey shivered. But he quickly looked away, as
if still seeking something or someone. She blew out a sigh of relief.

From inside, Joaquin walked through the double doors and headed to his SUV. “We’re
around back on the bottom floor. There’s also a two-lane road that ends at the interstate,
just in case.”

She was glad he’d thought of such things. Honestly, all she’d been considering right
now was a hot shower and a bar of soap so she could wipe away the grime of the day.
Too bad it couldn’t remove the stain on her soul.

“Thanks.”

With a nod, he started the vehicle and put it in gear. She scanned the area for the
man in the hoodie, but he was gone. He’d likely headed into the hotel. With a shrug,
she glanced in the other direction and saw the married woman driving away. Her lover
stood rooted in place beside his sporty coupe, watching her go. He looked ripped apart.

Bailey suspected she’d feel that way when Joaquin finally realized she’d become attached
to him and he walked away.

Sadness dragged her down, even as the day’s tumult still stirred her up. This odd
jumble of emotions made her feel as if she overflowed with everything bad and wrong
in life. She had a dark past, had lived through a lie of a childhood. Why couldn’t
she have one good thing right now?

Joaquin stopped the SUV in a corner of the lot, parking it as close to the back exit
as he could. He handed her a key and picked up the backpack. “Room 192. You unlock
the door and let me sweep the room before you go in.”

She’d seen this tactic on TV and didn’t understand how anyone might have broken into
their hotel room, but if it made him feel safer to follow procedure, fine. In fact,
given the feeling of uneasiness she couldn’t shake, maybe caution was a good thing.

As she approached the door, she glanced around the parking lot, but didn’t see anyone,
so she shoved the key in the lock. The light turned green, and she heard a little
click. Joaquin pushed on the door and extracted his gun from the small of his back,
flipping off the safety. Bailey held her breath as he searched every corner, the closet,
the bathroom, under the bed.

“The coast is clear.” He motioned her inside.

She entered, letting the door shut behind her. He sloughed off the backpack and threw
home the deadbolt.

“Take your shower. I’ll find the phone book in this joint so I can hunt down something
that resembles food.”

With a nod, Bailey stumbled into the bathroom. It was utilitarian, but if it had hot
water and shampoo, that was all she really needed.

After stripping down, she stood under the hot spray and let it melt her stress. Warmth
cascaded over her scalp, through her tresses, rolled down her skin. She grabbed the
little bar of soap and glided it over her body, then lathered her hair. In her mind,
she did her best to wash away her biological father’s terrible act of questionable
mercy, the nightmares that had plagued her for years, the uncertainty of not knowing
where tomorrow might lead her.

But instead of the choking emotions dissipating, more roared through her. She’d done
her best to tamp them down and not fall apart in the car, but now? They rushed her
like a tidal wave. All the hurt, confusion, disbelief, and sadness poured in. A trickling
of tears sprang free. It became a steady drip, which then turned into a small stream.
Finally, the dam of her self-control broke and her tears transformed into a downpour
that squeezed her heart until she couldn’t breathe or think or move. She couldn’t
do anything but crumple to the edge of the tub and sob.

Bailey had no idea how long she’d been sitting there, half under the spray of the
shower, before Joaquin knocked.

“Baby girl?” he called through the door. “You okay? I’ve got a line on some good pizza.”

She heard the words, wanted to tell him that she couldn’t think about food now, but
when she opened her mouth, the only thing she managed was to drag in a shuddering
breath, then let loose an uncontrollable, heaving sob.

He didn’t bother knocking again, just shoved the door wide open and burst into the
room. Bailey tried to curl into herself. The sense of vulnerability nicked and sliced
her until she felt as if she bled from every inch of her skin. She didn’t want him
to see her as a victim, a sad case, a tragic girl to pity.

But how else could he possibly see her right now?

Another sob wracked her. He bolted across the tiny bathroom in two big steps and straddled
the side of the tub, then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his warm
body.

“Bailey . . . Don’t cry. Oh, baby girl.” He cradled her tight. “I’m here.”

“I’m b-broken.” She managed to shove the words out between tears.

“Never,” he swore. “You’ve had a tough day. I know a lot of men who wouldn’t have
made it through this shit half as well as you.”

Maybe. Bailey didn’t know if he spoke the truth, and her brain was too muddled to
consider it. She stared at the water pelting the bottom of the tub. Joaquin’s big,
bare foot was drenched, as was the bottom half of one pant leg. She must be saturating
his shirt with her wet skin and sopping hair. Still, he didn’t show any signs of leaving
her side or saving his clothing from a thorough soaking. He just held her and crooned.

“I can only imagine what you’re going through. You’ve been carrying this secret for
so long. To know that it’s been locked inside must be terrible.”

“I feel . . . I don’t know how to put it.” She shook her head. “Responsible? But I
don’t think, at five, I could have stopped what happened.”

“No. If Viktor hadn’t told you to hide, you would have died that day, too. Either
he would have ended you as he did the others or McKeevy would have tortured you to
see if you knew anything helpful before he killed you.”

Everything he said was true, but that didn’t make the words easier to take. “I wish
I had been able to tell everyone sooner maybe. I don’t know. Done something.”

“That wouldn’t have changed anything, either. What you wish is that you’d had more
power in the situation, both then and now.”

Bailey hadn’t thought of it like that, but he was right. He understood exactly what
she wanted. “Yes. I feel like I’ve done them a disservice by not speaking the truth
sooner. And now I’m so angry with Viktor, LOSS, McKeevy . . .”

“And probably me. I’ve forced you into this.”

“You were trying to save lives. I don’t know where I’d be if you hadn’t saved mine.
Probably dead. And I would never have known the truth. Thank you for being my white
knight.”

He took her face in his hands and looked down at her as if he wanted to say something.
But Bailey saw what she needed in his eyes—his strength, his comfort, his sense of
right. For the first time, she knew what it was like to choose someone with her heart.
She couldn’t change either set of her parents or the way those relationships had ended.
She’d drifted through a lot of friends, too. In retrospect, Bailey figured that she’d
cleaved onto Blane because he’d been funny, interesting, and so helpful with dance.
But Joaquin . . . He filled her heart like no one ever had.

No denying that she loved him.

He might stay tomorrow—but probably not. She couldn’t control that. All she could
do was be with him now. He was a balm to her battered soul. He was the warmth that
chased the chill from her heart. He made her feel alive, and she needed that so badly
right now.

“Will you kiss me?” she breathed.

He pressed his lips to hers softly, lingering for just a moment before he pulled back.

Bailey wanted more. She wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her lips to him,
plunging her tongue inside.

Joaquin tensed and pulled back. “Bailey, you need food and sleep.”

“I don’t.”

“You’re upset. I won’t take advantage of you.”

She loved his sense of right and wrong. It might be skewed to some people, but she
understood. For him, the righteous end could justify the terrible means. He wasn’t
the kind of man to kidnap her lightly. Just like he wasn’t the sort to take from her
when he thought she couldn’t spare anything to give.

“You’re not. I’m asking you to fill me up with your touch, your affection. Replace
all these bad memories with something good. Help me.”

He frowned, his stare contemplative as he delved deep into her eyes. Finally, he rose
and leaned over her, cutting off the shower. Then he helped her onto the bath mat
and wrapped a towel around her, squeezing the water from her hair before it dripped
on the floor.

Gently, he yanked on the strands falling down her back. “I don’t have any condoms
in the room. I picked some up today, but they’re in the car. If this is what you really
want, I’ll go get them.”

He should. She should let him.

“No.” The word slipped out.

Bailey couldn’t imagine letting him out of her sight. She couldn’t be parted from
him for even a moment. It wasn’t logical. Then again, desperation wasn’t. She needed
to feel him in the most elemental way, man to woman, natural and real.

Nothing between them.

“I don’t want you to wear one.”

He hesitated. “Bailey, I don’t think—”

She lunged up and melded her lips to his, her hands tearing into his jeans. She didn’t
want to think right now. She didn’t want him to think, either. She simply wanted to
feel. So what if she was reckless? Everything else in her life had gone to hell through
no fault of her own. Just one moment with him. A pure connection no one could erase,
something she’d never forget. Was that asking for too much?

He pulled back and gripped her wrists before she could lower his zipper. “I want you,
too. So damn badly. When I sank deep inside you, the feel of you around me with no
barriers was the most pleasure I’ve ever felt. I’d give anything to have that again.
But if you got pregnant?”

Joaquin opened his mouth as if he had more to say, but she cut him off. “I know. I
just don’t care right now. My entire day has been surrounded by death. I have to feel
alive. I don’t want to feel latex. I need to feel
you
. You keep saying you’ll be here for me. Do it. Please . . .”

His fingers tightened on her as he scanned her face. She saw the moment he chose to
give in, and elation spiked, sizzling up her blood.

“Fuck,” he muttered, then lifted her into his arms, carrying her out of the bathroom.

Seconds later, he dropped her to the mattress. Before she even stopped bouncing, he
gripped her thighs and tugged, pulling her down to the edge of the bed and spreading
her legs wide. With jerky movements, he tore off his T-shirt and knelt. Bailey barely
had time to guess his intent before he fitted his lips over her pussy and swiped his
tongue through her moist flesh, flattening his tongue over her clit.

She cried out at the instant jolt of sensation. But he didn’t let up. Instead, Joaquin
opened her wider and ate her like he was starved for the taste of her. All gusto,
he knew exactly where and how to focus his tongue to make every nerve in her sex flare
to life.

She looked down her body, watching his dark head work between her legs. As if he sensed
her, he opened his eyes and snared her gaze. His mouth on her sex, his stare connected
to hers—it had to be the most erotic thing she’d ever seen. A fresh flare of arousal
lit up her system.

“Pinch your nipples. Let me see you do it,” he demanded, nipping her thigh.

Bailey flushed. She’d never been one to touch her breasts during masturbation, but
knowing he’d be looking at the way she manhandled the little nubs, hoping it would
drive him mad . . . she couldn’t wait.

Without hesitation, she gripped her nipples between thumb and forefinger and squeezed.
The instant tingle shocked her, licking a line of fire down to her clit. Joaquin groaned
and ratcheted up the heat by laving her little bud of nerves at a voracious, insatiable
pace.

Under his touch, her chilled skin burned. Her tense body melted into the bed. Her
empty heart filled. Joaquin could be dangerous, remote, difficult. But he wasn’t irresponsible.
If this man was willing to risk the sort of permanent connection with her that came
from creating life, he must have feelings for her, too.

“That’s it,” he coached. “Harder. Make your nipples red. Make me die to take them
in my mouth.”

His words alone nearly made her whimper. She knew nothing but him and did as he’d
bid, blinking down at him as he sucked her clit into his mouth and made her squirm
with need.

A squeeze, a tug, a twist, she could feel her hard tips gathering blood and swelling
as he nipped at her, the slight edge of his teeth grazing her most sensitive spot.
She gasped and instinctively gripped the crests of her breasts harder. He pulled her
flesh into his mouth again, this time giving her a little more bite. Her breath shuddered.
When she twisted her nipples this time, the tiny bit of delicious soreness roused
a whole new level of desire. How good would it feel if he sucked the tips into his
hot mouth and worked them more? How hard would she come once he shoved his stiff length
inside her and rode her to orgasm?