Speechless (9 page)

Eva lay still, barely breathing at the shock of Stone’s
words. He didn’t mean them. Every woman knew that I-love-yous immediately
before, during, or after sex—especially mind-blowing sex like that—didn’t
count. It was when they said it during the messiness of every day life that you
could believe them. She and Stone had never experienced everyday life together.
She was glad he’d fallen asleep, so she didn’t have to answer. Because she had
no idea what she would have said. She didn’t know if she loved him. She was
addicted to him. She felt at peace with him. She was more comfortable with him
than with any other man she’d had a relationship with. But she wasn’t ready for
love yet. She pushed it out of her mind and felt a wave of tiredness wash over
her. She rolled onto her side and welcomed sleep.

She woke with Stone spooned against her, she could feel his
arm over her, his hand cupping one breast. The memory of their lovemaking was
so vivid, she could still feel him inside her and even imagined the little
jumps and twitches a man’s erection made as it grew. Then she realized that it
wasn’t memory, but real. He was inside her and those twitches were the movement
his erection made as he lengthened. He was still asleep, judging by his
breathing and his immobility. His hands had never kept so still on her body
when he was awake. Somehow, in their sleep, he had slipped into her from
behind, as if it was the most natural place in the world for him to be, as if
sleeping with a penis inside her was as normal as a toddler sleeping with his
thumb in his mouth.

Eva shifted, setting herself more securely around him,
setting him more deeply inside her. He sighed in his sleep at her movement. Eva
wondered briefly if he were feigning sleep, she’d never known him to sleep so
deeply before, normally waking at the merest touch. But she’d never known him
to be quite so exhausted and he had no reason she knew of to pretend to be
asleep.

Moving slowly, she parted her legs just enough for her
fingers to find her lower lips and her still-sensitive clit inside them. She
woke it gently at first, teasing it out of its hiding place, then stimulated it
more intently, savoring the sharp pleasure building up in her core. With short
rocks of her hips, she matched the rhythm, using Stone’s erection shamelessly
to multiply the intensity. She had to be careful, though, she was so wet, he
would slip out of her if she moved too much and wake if she moved too quickly
or forcefully. It was selfish, she supposed, using him, enjoying him while he
slept, but she loved it anyway, this private exploration of their connection,
learning how they fit without having to judge his reactions or expressions. She
kept up her slow rhythm and the sensations built and built, that tingling,
needy, subsuming pleasure, until the stimulation was too much to take and she
sent herself over the edge, relishing the dual sensations of Stone inside and
her fingers outside.

Stone was awake now—for how long, Eva didn’t know—his hand
tightened on her breast and he thrust against her, pushing himself farther into
her. He grabbed a pillow from somewhere—under his head judging by its
warmth—held it against her belly and rolled her onto it and himself onto her,
never coming fully out of her.

“God, Eva.”

He thrust once or twice, then lifted her hips so she could
bring her knees up under her. She caught wordless pleasure from him in her
mind, but he didn’t pump or thrust like she expected. Instead, his hands
caressed her bottom, from the base of her back to her thighs, up along her
hips, then down again at her crack. It drove her crazy, that soft, smooth touch,
the gentle massage. She wanted him to move and she leaned back into him to tell
him so. Still, just those hands, up her back this time, before returning to
rest, palms on her cheeks, thumbs setting up a gentle circular motion near her
back opening. It only made her crazier.

Stone, please.
No man had ever had her begging
before.

“If I move, I’m going to explode. I want to enjoy this as
long as possible. This is my favorite position.”

Why?

“Because I can do this,” he intensified his thumb massage
and Eva got the distinct feeling that there was more to that touch than Stone
was showing her. Even so, it sent intriguing sensations curling deep into her,
in a startling way, leaving her wanting more and uncertain of what exactly she
wanted.

“And I can do this.” He stretched forward and found her
breasts, teasing and tweaking as he did so well, until Eva’s head went back and
she pressed into his hands. He pulled them away just as the wave of pleasure
crested.

“Give me your hands.” She obeyed, now at an incline, with
her shoulders on the bed, her bottom in the air and Stone’s cock impaling her
from behind. Her inner muscles clenched and Stone took a sharp breath. “Hold on
here.” He wrapped her fingers of each hand around his leg, right where his
thigh and knee met.

“And I can do this.” His fingers found her clit and she
bucked hard at the touch. If she hadn’t been holding on to him, she would have
slipped off. Even then, he didn’t start moving, but played with the nubbin with
one hand and reached up with the other to find her breast again. Only now, with
Eva as good as immobilized by the position of Stone’s arms and the two waves of
pleasure crashing together, did he start pumping. Slowly at first, then faster,
his hands matching the rhythm of his cock in their stroking. She was drowning,
dying, unable to breathe, her vision filling with light. Then Stone released
her breast and found her back entry with his thumb. He pressed and Eva
shattered, the light in her vision bursting, blinding her. Stone followed, she
could feel his cock spasming inside her, filling her with his seed.

When the last of the butterfly vibrations stopped, Eva slid
off him and collapsed onto the bed, sore and finally sated. Stone collapsed
next to her and they faced each other. He ran a finger down her face.

I’ve changed my mind
.

About what?

That being my favorite position.

Why?

Because I can’t see your face. I love watching your face,
especially when you come.

I think this time, it looked something like this.
Eva
closed her eyes, threw her head back and faked a scream. Stone laughed. The
warm, rich sound surprised Eva and she opened her eyes and stared at him.
You
laughed.

Stone smiled, a little bittersweet tinting his still-obvious
happiness and nodded.
Thank you.

For making a funny face?

For enabling me to feel again.

Eva shook her head. It was too much responsibility, such a
task, to make a man like him, hard and unemotional, feel again.

Stone nodded, framed her face with his hands and kissed her,
long and lingering. He teased and caressed her lips with his tongue, then
pulled back and broke off.
I want to make you come again. I love making you
come.

I want to make you laugh again. I love your laugh.

Later. After I make you come.

Oh, God, Stone. I’m so sore.

He studied her for a moment, then conceded and brushed his
fingers across her cheek. He raised himself up on one elbow to look over her
shoulder at the clock on the nightstand.

“We slept all day. I’m going to take a shower, then we
should get some dinner and get back on the road.”

Eva lay in bed and listened for the sound of the shower to
change, indicating that Stone stood under the spray, then she got up and
slipped into the streaming water behind him. He turned and looked at her, but
said nothing, even when she took the soap out of his hand. She washed him from
neck to toe, lingering on his muscled chest and taut butt. He was perfectly
muscled all over his body, not with body-builder muscles but quiet strength
muscles and she followed them down to his feet, until she was kneeling in front
of him. His flaccid penis twitched and began to harden.

But Stone reached down and lifted her off her knees and took
his turn with the soap, massaging her sore leg muscles, soothing tender spots
with soft touches, cleaning his cum off her legs and belly. And somehow, she
felt closer to him in this moment that was not sexual but sensual, not erotic
but intimate, not seductive but serving, than she ever had before. Still
without speaking, they rinsed the soap off their bodies, got out and dried each
other off. As Eva ran the towel over him, she memorized the scars that
crisscrossed his body and the two or three places where it was clear something
had taken out whole chunks of flesh. She traced each scar then kissed it,
learning her beloved’s body. They were marks of his past, about which she still
knew so little. How different was “intelligence agent” from “international
consultant”, after all? Only these scars distinguished her knowledge of the
two.

When both were dry and dressed, Eva wearing the bra and panties
Stone had removed so efficiently just a few hours ago—he’d smiled as he watched
her put them on—Stone left the key lying next to the TV and they went back
across the street to the restaurant where they’d had breakfast. Walking into
the building broke the spell of silence that had held them. The impatient
waitress of earlier that day was gone, replaced by a chipper teen, her blonde
hair up in a ponytail and a bright smile on her face.

“What kin I getcha?”

Only after Stone ordered did they speak to each other.

We’re going to drive through the night?

Stone nodded, all business again.
I’d rather not stop
again, if we don’t have to. Though taking back roads will take longer
.

Why are we taking back roads?

Highways all have cameras on them, mostly angled to get
shots of license plates. Cronen and Smith have access to these cameras. Back
roads are safer.

Eva felt a shiver pass through her. The waitress reappeared
with their drinks and a basket of assorted crackers. Eva reached for a package
of mini sesame breadsticks, the hard kind that break into a dozen pieces at the
first bite. Stone reached over to brush crumbs off her shirt—and, she guessed,
to brush against her breast—but she swatted his hand away.

What exactly have you gotten me into?
She gave him a
hard stare that she hoped would compel a straight answer from him.
What
exactly are they so intent on keeping secret, that they will hunt us down with
such determination?

He scrubbed his hand down his face in frustration.
If I
tell you this, you can’t ever tell another soul. It will change the way you
look at the US government, the world and possibly me. Are you absolutely
certain you want to know this?

Eva drew back a little, studied him a moment, took in the
sudden hardness of his eyes, the expressionless face, the intensity and outrage
that radiated off him. She knew that his anger was not directed at her, but at
whatever these people had done. Finally she gave him a single nod. She did want
to know, needed to know what kind of people they were up against and by
contrast, what kind of person Stone was. Because she still didn’t really know
him.
Yes. I’m absolutely certain I want to know.

“All right. In the car. I don’t want to corrupt our
connection with this story and I can’t tell it where anyone else might hear.”

Eva nodded. When the waitress brought their food, they ate
in silence and it seemed to Eva that Stone withdrew from her, put some kind of
emotional distance between them, keeping his gaze on his food or out the
restaurant window. All the intimacy that had bloomed between them as they’d
made love and in the shower dissolved until it felt like their relationship had
rewound to the same stage as in that first day in the cabin. They finished
their meal and even before their waitress could offer them dessert, Stone rose
and dropped fifty dollars on the table—more than twice what her burger and
fries and his steak actually cost.

“Let’s go.” Tension flowed off him as he stalked out of the
restaurant ahead of her and everyone they passed felt it, looking up from their
own meals, pausing in their conversations, to watch them go. To their eyes, Eva
knew, it had come from nowhere. This strange couple they watched had come into
the restaurant clearly content, happy in each other’s company. There had been
no fight, only a few words spoken at all and now they were just as clearly
upset. Eva barely understood it herself.

I can drive,
Eva said as they crossed back to the
motel parking lot and the car. Stone tossed her the keys without a word and
they got into the car. The silence persisted until they were on the road again
and Eva had pushed their speed up to sixty outside the town limits. Again,
Stone scrubbed a hand down his face and he began to talk.

“Remember that explosion in Thailand last year, the one in
the Bangkok red-light district?” Eva nodded. That explosion had killed dozens
of people, mostly women working in the brothels and bars of the area. It had
been in the news for just a day or two, complete with speculation on the
motives of the terrorists who had set off the blast. “I caused that.”

Eva stared at him, trying not to look too aghast at his
confession, waiting for his explanation. She dragged her eyes back to the road
only when she caught the flash of another car’s headlights in the corner of her
eye.

“I didn’t detonate the bomb, but it was a direct result of
my actions. In my line of work ethics and morality often take a backseat to
getting the intelligence needed. People are used, manipulated, lied to,
tortured and worse, all in the name of national security or counter-terrorism.
Innocent people die for a supposedly higher cause. It’s easy for ethics to slip
away entirely, to cross what is already a very blurry line. I was in Thailand
on an assignment—it doesn’t matter anymore—and I stumbled across a severe crossing
of that line. Some of my superiors in the organization had set up a very
lucrative scheme. Thailand is a sex-industry destination. You know that,
right?”