Too Hot to Hold (22 page)

“I told myself I wouldn’t tell another living soul, and here I am, spilling my guts to you.” She shoved the near-empty bottle away from her.

“I’m that kind of person. People tell me things. Do you think I’m going to sell you out?”

“How does this liquor not affect you?” she demanded instead of answering his question.

“I haven’t been given the bottle in a while.”

“Oh.” She did nothing to rectify that, took another swig and watched his outline—he appeared to be lying flat on his back on the floor, arms under his head, his body taking up nearly all the space. “It’s still hot.”

She heard the rustle of a body rising up from the floor and then he was right next to her—so close she could see the half smile tugging at his mouth. “Yeah, hot.”

“You need to stop doing that.”

“Making you blush?”

“You can’t tell that in the dark.”

But one of his palms brushed her face softly. “I can tell a hell of a lot in the dark.”

Maybe he was drunk after all. But she didn’t move his hand, not even when it began rubbing the back of her neck, the way he’d done before.

God, she felt lazy. Hot and bothered, but strangely relaxed, and she began to unbutton her shirt, stripped it off, leaving just the white tank she’d worn underneath.

His hands moved to her shoulders, down her arms, and she shivered at the touch, especially when he shifted so he could cup her breasts.

“Chris, this isn’t going to happen. This is the worst time for something to happen.”

“That’s usually when it does.”

“I feel like you’ve got some kind of voodoo… some kind of crazy love potion, like a drug.”

“It’s the Cajun-gypsy mix.”

“I don’t like it—it makes me feel out of control.”

“Try to go with it, Jamie. Sometimes it’s easier than you think.”

“I can’t.”

“You’re all hard edges and buttoned-up, a hard-ass with a badge and a gun,” he murmured, his body pressing hers. With what appeared to be utter ease, he’d gotten her splayed on the floor under him, and more helpless than she would’ve liked. “But you’d turn so sweet with my cock inside of you—wouldn’t you?”

She wanted to tell him to fuck off, pull her knee up to shove his balls into his throat. But the tiny catch in her breath came too fast for her to stop it, the heat flooded between her legs and he knew.

He’d known before he’d lain on top of her. And she hated him for that.

He knew that too.

“Maybe that line works on other women, but it doesn’t work on me,” she said.

“Good one.”

And still, he hadn’t moved, not a muscle, and his erection dug into her, rock hard.

The ache inside her intensified and she struggled to keep the needy moan from escaping as she spoke. “Get off me.”

“No.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“No, I’m not.” He shifted slightly so his arousal brushed her in just the right place.

“No, you’re not,” she agreed, right before he brought his mouth down on hers. His tongue stroked hers in a kiss so hot she thought she’d combust on the spot. Her hands wound into his hair to keep him there, to pull him closer. The heaviness of his body covering hers was wonderful, despite the heat and the close quarters—this could be the best cure for claustrophobia yet.

When he pulled away for a second, she heard her own breath, harsh in the darkness.

“Do you still want me to stop?” he asked.

“Would you?”

“That’s not the question.”

She heard herself say, “I don’t want you to stop,” and knew she was telling the truth.

“Put your arms up over your head… yeah, that’s it, Jamie. Just give yourself to me, don’t worry about control—you’ll have your turn, but now, this is all about you …”

She obeyed, extended her arms over her head and he pushed her tank up over her breasts. “Nothing we can do now, Jamie. No guilt. Just pure and simple, life-affirming sex.”

His mouth covered a nipple and she moaned at the contact, his hot mouth playing with her taut nub as she fisted the metal of the broken seat to keep herself from grabbing him and holding him there.

God, the man was good. Better than good. Life-affirmingly, bourbon-drinking or not—spectacular, especially as his hand traveled between her legs, and oh, my God, just
oh… my… God
.

He chuckled against her neck and she realized she’d been saying all of that out loud.

“You’re killing me,” she murmured.

“Just wrap yourself around me, baby. I’ll take care of everything.” His voice was like a shot of pure adrenaline rushing through her, causing her to shake and shiver and open herself up to his hand.

“I like taking care of things too,” she whispered.

From there, it became more like a desperate fight than any kind of gentle lovemaking… they rolled, together, with Jamie ending up on top.

She tugged at his shirt, managed to help him yank it over his head. Her palms roamed miles of hard muscle and scar tissue and everything she associated with the purely male animal Chris was. She worked his pants next, pulled them past his hips, and her hands circled his arousal—big and thick and strong like the rest of him, and so ready for her.

There was no condom, no barrier, but at the moment, she didn’t care. In the humid, broken body of the plane, in the midst of the crash they’d miraculously survived, she let Chris Waldron take her… and in return, she took him too, made him cry out with a sharp groan that vibrated in the small space until that was all she could hear.

17

This is a good spot.” Sarah had pulled her car up a slight incline along the side of a large rock formation—Clutch did the same on the opposite side. Kaylee could barely see the top of his car—could barely see the boulder, it was still so ominously dark outside. It didn’t feel like daytime, felt as if the night before continued on in a never-ending stretch. “Besides, my tire’s shot and I don’t have a spare.”

“I’ll check with Clutch.” Nick was out of the car in seconds, leaving the two women alone.

“The rains get pretty bad, but we’ll be all right up here. We’ll just sleep in the cars,” Sarah explained. She switched around in her seat in order to face Kaylee and turned on the overhead light. “Are you okay?”

God, no, she wasn’t okay. “He’s so angry with me.”

Sarah tucked her legs under her. “I’ve found that the angrier they can get at you is usually a sign that they love you.”

Kaylee jerked her head toward her. Sarah was smiling a little. “You can’t tell me you haven’t felt it. I can see it happening between you two.”

Kaylee couldn’t disagree. “There are just… things between us. Insurmountable things.”

“I used to feel that way too.”

She thought about what Clutch had said earlier, about not letting Sarah go again, no matter the cost. “Did you know Aaron too?”

Sarah shook her head. “I only met Clutch last year. He never talked much about what was going on with him and GOST, even after I found out.”

“I can imagine he’d want to forget all about it.”

“Forgetting about things always comes back to haunt you. Trust me, I know all about that.”

“Do you have family here?” Kaylee asked.

Sarah shook her head slowly. “No. They were all killed in the riots in Zimbabwe years ago.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Sarah didn’t acknowledge the apology. “I shouldn’t try to talk you out of writing the article, shouldn’t tell you how risky it will be for you,” Sarah said. “But I’m going to. Maybe you should just go somewhere, lay low. They might forget about you.”

She and Sarah both knew how complicated that would be. “Aaron and I wouldn’t have been together—GOST or no GOST. But he went in because they threatened me. All that time and I didn’t realize how close I came to getting hurt.” She stared down at her hands. “Writing this story is the very least I can do.”

The article would free these people and somehow she felt it would also free Aaron’s soul.

The car door opened and Nick climbed into the backseat. “Car’s fixed.”

“If it’s all right with you, I’m going to stay with Clutch,” Sarah said, even as she began to get out of the car. “We won’t be able to do anything for hours—not until the rain stops and the ground dries a bit. The good news is no one’s able to get to us here.”

Yes, that was good news.

“Go for it,” Nick said, and Sarah shut the door behind her, leaving Kaylee with Nick … and total and complete silence between them.

“I know you don’t want to be here with me,” she said when she couldn’t stand the quiet any longer. Which had only taken about three minutes but felt like forever.

He didn’t answer, glanced at her and then back at the rain lightly flicking the window. He kicked the car door open and climbed out.

Of course, she followed him. She had to get this settled before she could move on and write the article. “Are you ever going to speak to me again?”

He whirled around on her. “When I first found out who you were, I should’ve figured it all out. I’m so fucking stupid—I should’ve known when you didn’t ask questions about my family. You didn’t because you knew everything … or else, you think you do.”

“Nick, please, I didn’t—”

His eyes coldly appraised her. “But you did. You’ve been looking for me since you started your career.”

“Yes.”

“Searched down every lead, looked for me behind every corner. Followed the frenzy.”

“Yes, but not for the reasons you think.”

He snorted, went to move away from her. She attempted to stop him with a touch, but true to form, he pulled away. “Shit, sorry. I’m sorry—I’m trying to get used to that,” she said.

“Don’t bother.”

But she ignored the sting she felt and continued, “So many people assume that Cutter was the crazy one for leaving that family—the wealth and the fame and the family connections. And sure, maybe he was, but I’m the last one to fault someone for getting out of what looks like a wonderful situation. People want to believe in the mystique the Winfields have built around them.”

“But you don’t, right?”

“I don’t believe in fairy tales. I want to—you have no idea how badly I want to—but I can’t. Not the way I grew up. And not after knowing you—you’re nothing like they’ve made Cutter out to be. You’re strong and brave, a good man.”

He didn’t say anything for a long while, just leaned against the car and stared at the bit of sky they could see through the overhang of trees.

“You’re so fucking brave,” he told her finally. “The job you do… I grew up hating journalists. And now you’re ready to risk your own life to save these people—not because it’s good for you, but because you say it’s the right thing to do.”

“And here I thought you hated me.”

“I want to hate you, you have no idea how badly I want that. It would make all of this so much easier.”

“I wish I didn’t know.”

“But you do. There’s no taking it back. And if you’re staying with me because my past fascinates you—”

“You fascinate me—not Cutter, not the SEAL—you, Nick. The guy who came to me when I needed help. The one whose car I stole. The one who, for the first time in my life, makes me feel alive.”

“I told you that I’d be here for you, no matter what decision you made. I’ll be here while you write the article, I’ll help you get it to your boss and I’ll make sure you get home safely.”

“That’s not what I want—I don’t want a bodyguard, Nick. I could hire one if that’s all I wanted.”

“That’s all you wanted from me when we first met, remember?”

“Now I want more.”

“I can’t give you more, especially with what you know—stop pushing me.” It came out fiercer than he’d intended, a warning growl that made her flinch. She stepped away from him and then stopped herself.

“I can’t take back what I know!” She shouted that—above the wind and into the dark sky, her frustration rising right along with his.

The sex had done nothing to take the edge off what was happening between them—the anger ran deep inside and it had already come bubbling to the surface, so when it exploded instead into that raw roll on the ground, passionate sex, he hadn’t been surprised.

He wished she could take it all back, wished he was still just Nick to her. Wished there wasn’t so much shit coming down around their ears that he could barely think. “What do you want from me, Kaylee? Want to save me from the big, bad Winfields?”

She moved toward him and this time
he
fought the ridiculous urge to back up away from her, didn’t want to think about or talk about Walter right now.

Didn’t want to think at all. Not with the rain coming down on them, plastering the T-shirt to her body, and fuck, why did she have to be so pretty—why did she have to look at him like that, like he was the only fucking thing in the world she wanted?

She was on him now, pushing his body against the car as the rain slicked her touch. “I want to save you from a lot of things—saving you from yourself is the place I’d start.”

Nick could push her away so easily right now, but he remained with his back against the car even as she worked the zipper on his BDUs. Out there, in the rain, they remained in private thanks to the rocks that lay between the two cars. Kaylee circled him, stroked him—once, twice—and his breath hitched, enough to give him away. If his erection hadn’t already. She ran a finger over the broad head, swirling the drop of moisture, and he groaned. He was nearly beyond protesting and she knew it.

Yet his green eyes flashed like the lightning and his clenched fists signaled meltdown. But she was done running.

“Don’t do this.” That voice again, a warning couched inside the rough tones, and she ignored it.

He was so impossibly hard. For her.

His face showed desire and anger fighting each other, and she planned on forcing his hand, on suspending time and place as long as she possibly could.

“Don’t shut down on me—not here and not now,” she told him. God, he hadn’t kissed her, not since before they’d left for Africa and she wanted that—his mouth on hers—wanted all this to be more than just sex.

But the kiss wasn’t going to happen now, not when he grabbed under her arms to lift her off her feet and place her on the car.

“This is how much I still want you,” he whispered fiercely, put her hand back between his legs. “This is what you do to me.”

She loved hearing that.

He lifted her ass off the car to drag her BDUs off and place them underneath her before setting her back down again in one swift motion, her pants shielding her from the cold metal hood.

She spread her legs, wrapped them around his waist, and he took her right there, on the hood of the car, entered her slow and smooth, the night air dancing on her bare wet skin. The sex was hard and fast and she wasn’t going to last at all.

She clutched his shoulders, buried her face in his neck. “Harder, Nick… please.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he breathed against her ear, and complied, pulling himself almost completely out of her and then driving into her again and again, until she was utterly at his mercy. The world turned upside down as her belly clenched and she sank her teeth into his shoulder through his shirt to keep from screaming as she came in a shattered, shuddering rush.

Clutch wanted Sarah so badly, enough to put away fears about his own situation and the danger they were all in. But he couldn’t let himself do that.

Sarah groaned softly as he pulled back—she’d been half sitting on him, kissing him non-stop as the rain slammed the car.

“Sorry—I can’t settle in,” he said.

“No one’s coming out in this weather, Bobby. We’ve got our plan in place—we’re out of here and headed to the nearest hotel as soon as the rains stop. Kaylee will transmit the article and then we wait.” She stroked his hair. “Maybe you need some sleep?”

“Have we been apart so long that you’ve forgotten?” he asked. She knew he hadn’t slept a full night—more than half an hour at a time—for the past six years.

“I haven’t forgotten anything.” She pulled away from him, but before he could apologize, his cell phone began to vibrate in his pocket—he pulled it out and stared at the number, put his poker face on even as he knew it wouldn’t matter. Sarah would know who was on the other end of the phone as soon as he answered.

He thought about not answering, wasn’t sure if that would make things better or worse, and took the risk.

Caspar’s voice echoed on the other end of the phone. “I know you have Kaylee Smith.”

Clutch thought about telling him he was full of shit, that he didn’t know what he was talking about, but he was through playing games. “What does it matter to you? I’ll still get our orders completed.”

“I know your plans, Clutch. Why do you think you can sneak anything by me?”

“Who spilled? Who’s the rat you’ve got planted in my group?”

Caspar chuckled, an ominous sound. “It’s not your group—especially not now. You bring me Kaylee Smith. Bring her to the warehouse.”

“And then what?”

“And then you kill her and make sure the story she’s writing never sees the light of day. It’s either Kaylee Smith’s life or Sarah Cameron’s.”

Asking him to choose between Sarah and his freedom was the cruelest thing imaginable, and yet, he wasn’t surprised. He’d lived this life for too damned long to be surprised by anything.

That didn’t mean the thought of what Caspar proposed didn’t make him sick to his stomach. And so he didn’t say a word, tried to keep his breathing steady and tuck all the worry inside of him instead of letting it spill out in the spaces between himself and Sarah. And he was nearly successful too, until Caspar said, “I know Sarah’s with you.”

Clutch choked and put a hand over his mouth for a second to muffle the sound. And then, “Yeah, prove it…” before mouthing to Sarah, “He says he knows where you are.”

“That’s impossible, Bobby. One man can’t follow all of you and track me at the same time,” she mouthed back, even as her phone began to ring.

They both stared at it as Caspar laughed again on his end. “I hear her phone ringing—isn’t she going to answer it?”

Clutch tried to grab the phone from Sarah but he was too late—she had it to her ear, trying not to let the fear show in her face. “Sarah Cameron, we know where you are…”

Caspar’s words echoed into both their ears—and he rattled off their exact coordinates before he hung up.

Clutch and Sarah did the same with their own phones.

“They know, Clutch—how do they know?”

He didn’t answer, was already half out of the car. He dropped to the ground and crawled beneath the undercarriage. They had to have bugged it before he left.