Her Reluctant Hero: A Romantic Suspense Boxed Set Page 7

  The orgasm hit her hard. She came with a keening cry, arching backwards, gripping the dresser, but he didn’t stop, draining every bit of pleasure from her, adding his fingers, alternately stroking and penetrating her until she came harder, the room spinning, the only solid thing holding her up was Shepard.

  As casually as if he hadn’t destroyed her, he stood, watching as she sprawled helplessly in front of him, boneless. He kissed her again, his mouth wet with her, peeling her robe away, sharpening her desire. She clutched at him, sliding her hands up under his T-shirt to feel the ridges of muscle, to urge him to undress.

  He stripped off his shirt and she reached for him, wanting to touch, feel, claim, but he moved back, shucking off his pants too. The erection she’d seen at the waterfall was just as magnificent, but he’d sheathed himself before she could touch him.

  “Turn around,” he said, and she did, on shaky legs.

  He pressed a hand between her shoulder blades, bending her over the dresser so she was face to face with her own reflection in the mirror. Then he parted her legs and entered her with a powerful thrust.

  Humiliation warred with arousal as she watched his face in the mirror, watched him moving, feeling the corresponding strokes. It was sexy as hell, but their first time should be face to face, looking into each other’s eyes. Romantic, not sexual acrobatics.

  She’d exercised her body, trained her muscles to make a man come quickly, but now she pushed the numbness aside, opened herself to the sensations and the emotions. Instead of fake words of praise for her lover, she centered on her own pleasure, wanted to draw the sensation out, to feel the pleasure he could give her.

  Bracing her weight on her palms instead of her elbows, she rose up, making him work just a little harder to stay inside her. Making him need to stay inside her. She hadn’t turned to her old tricks. Instead of letting her mind shut off, she reveled in the feelings he worked to give her.

  “Christ, Isabella,” he grunted, making shallow thrusts to find his way back to the same depth, sending tingles of pleasure through her.

  Keeping him at the same angle, she backed against him, frustrating him, pleasing herself.

  She took one of his hands, guided it to cover her, guided one finger down to stroke her, and she came. Hard. Out of control.

  He unhooked her arm from around his neck and bent her over the dresser again, pounding into her, drawing out her pleasure till he came too, collapsing breathless and sweaty across her back.

  She shouldn’t have been surprised or hurt when he didn’t cuddle her. Instead, he withdrew almost immediately to deal with the condom, then closed his hand around hers, almost a tender gesture.

  “Let’s go shower.”

  As she followed him to the bathroom, she got a good look at his streamlined body, no fat anywhere. She watched him lean in to adjust the water temperature, then he stepped in first and reached for her.

  “I want to touch you everywhere,” he said, backing under the spray to shield her.

  “I think you did,” she murmured shyly, not sure whether to face him after he’d seen what he could do to her, how he could make her lose control.

  Gently, he turned her so her back was to him and bent his head to the curve of her shoulder, sucking the spray of water from her skin. He slid his palms down her arms, up into her hair. “So soft,” he whispered.

  His erection nudged her bottom before he eased back, gliding his hands over her breasts to the vee of her thighs then up again to her breasts to flick her nipples.

  “Shepard,” she whispered.

  “Alex,” he said against her skin.

  “Alex.” She twisted in his arms, letting her skin slide against his and she pulled his head down.

  Alex closed his mouth over hers. God, she was everything he’d dreamed about and more, soft, giving, welcoming. Responsive. Every brush of his touch over her skin had her sighing or gasping, like she was some virgin who’d never been touched. Like she lived for him to touch her. So he touched her and kissed her, bending her over his arm, taking her mouth greedily, taking, taking. And she gave.

  Alex didn’t want to be on his feet anymore. He wanted her under him. He shut off the water and swept her up in one of the big towels, stroking it over her smooth skin. She blushed and gave him a beautiful smile. What did that mean? Had he crossed a line here? Could he stop himself if he had?

  Not yet, he couldn’t. He lifted her in his arms and carried her in to the bed, kneeling over her. His arousal pulsed in his blood, his need to take. He tasted her luscious mouth, the sweet curve of her throat, the lush flesh of her breasts, her dark nipples, one at a time, rolling them with his tongue, dragging moans from her. Her legs parted around his waist, and she pressed against him. The scent of her desire was like a hand, reaching out to stroke him, to entice him. His erection leapt in response, but he reined his desire in.

  He was practiced at that.

  He nuzzled and licked her breasts, then peeled himself away. She whimpered in protest, a gorgeous sound, but when he returned with his foil packet, she sat up and took it.

  “I haven’t touched you,” she said softly.

  Her fingertips hovered near his erection, and it took every ounce of will not to shove himself at her. If she touched him now, he didn’t think he’d have any control.

  But he wanted her hands on him.

  He knelt on the bed, giving her implicit permission. She closed her fingers around him, stroked up toward the tip with a gentle swirling motion, again and again till he thought his teeth would pulverize with the effort not to come.

  Then she lowered her head, and her cool breath rushed across his sensitive flesh.

  “No,” he shouted, grasping her wrist and moving as far away as he dared.

  “Why not?” Her expression was puzzled when she lifted her eyes to his.

  “I won’t be able to hold out.”

  “So don’t. We have all night.”

  He pressed the condom in her palm. “I want to fuck you.”

  Her eyes sharpened and narrowed, then she ripped into the condom and sheathed him with one businesslike move before she lay back on the bed, her eyes losing the dreamy pleasure from earlier. “Fuck away.”

  The change in her chilled him. This was what he wanted, sex with no strings. So why did her sudden detachment make him hesitate? He saw two people in her. Which one did he want to screw? Being with the whore would be easier, less complicated, but something about the soft Bella made him want to soothe her.

  He stretched out beside her, pushing her wet hair back from her face. “Don’t be like that, Bella. I want you in a bed. Is there something wrong with that?”

  She reached up, stroked his cheek, but her expression remained remote. “No. Nothing wrong with that.” She drew him over her and into her, and he didn’t think anymore.

  Chapter Six

  He was gone. She had expected nothing less. Last night had been something—punishment, retribution, something. But not love.

  She knew better than to believe in love. A man never did more with a woman than use her for his own good. Alex hadn’t told her why he’d come, had never told her what happened with Rebecca. He’d just fucked her.

  God, she hated that word.

  Now she sat in the chair, dressed in the only other outfit she’d packed besides her purloined hiking clothes and the silk dress he’d shredded in the jungle. The black suit was the most respectable piece of clothing she had, despite its microscopic skirt and deep neckline. Maybe the authorities would look at her differently today and send her on her way. She couldn’t tell them any more. Not only was reliving Eric’s death too painful, but they might hold her accountable. If they found her to blame, she’d never be able to get to her son before Santiago.

  But if she convinced the DEA to let her go, she could get back to the States, find Hector and disappear. When that happened, this life would be behind her forever. Hopefully her son’s memories of this time would fade, that he would only remember the nice,
normal life she planned to give him back in Las Cruces. She ached to hold him again, couldn’t wait to introduce him to her parents, couldn’t wait to be loved again.

  The knock came just as her stomach rumbled and she realized she hadn’t had anything to eat since yesterday. This being on the run was going to do wonders for her diet. She walked to the door and peeked out, hoping against hope it was Alex. But no, it was a young marine from the embassy, white hat tucked under his arm. She opened the door.

  “Are you packed and ready to go, ma’am?” he asked respectfully, though he was probably older than she was.

  “Go where?” she asked.

  “Home, ma’am. They’re sending you back to the States today.”

  Alex sat ramrod straight in the hard metal chair as the head DEA agent, Agent Michaels, and his own superior officer, Captain Winters, circled him like vultures. He’d told them what had happened at Saldana’s, on that mountain, but they wanted to hear it again. And again.

  “What was the girl doing out of the compound?”

  He resisted the urge to wipe his hand over his face in frustration. Instead he folded them in front of him on the scarred table. “I told you, sir. She said Eric Cortez had told her we were coming. She saw us as her only hope.”

  The other men exchanged a glance. Captain Winters spoke. “How did Saldana know we were coming? Why did Cortez trust the girl?”

  “I have no idea, sir.”

  “Do you not?” the agent snapped.

  Alex met the other man’s gaze steadily and watched his temper heat. “No, sir.”

  Michaels turned away and signaled the two-way mirror. He waited silently, allowing the tension in the room to rise. In a matter of moments, a marine rolled in a television set, plugged it in, and left. The captain pressed a button and Alex was watching himself having sex with Isabella.

  Nerves roiled in his stomach. Christ. They’d bugged her room? From the angle, it looked like the camera was above the light fixture in the corner. His face heated with embarrassment, both at being caught and at being so damn rough with her. He had used her. Because he felt used. Goddamn, he needed to get out of here, needed to find her and apologize. That would be new. He didn’t even know what to say, what he could say, to make up for his treatment.

  Then, realizing the captain and Michaels were watching the video, watching Bella, he reached over and slapped the TV off.

  Both men turned to face him as if they’d expected nothing less.

  “You seem fairly familiar with the girl,” Captain Winters observed dryly.

  “Running for our lives through the jungle will do that. That—” He motioned to the screen. “What you saw, was the first time we had sex.”

  Michaels braced his hands on the table across from Alex. What a dick. “Doesn’t matter to us if it was the first or hundred and first. She clearly trusts you.”

  Ohh. This was not going to be good.

  “She’s leaving today for Miami.” Michaels straightened. “You need to follow her.”

  “What for?”

  Captain Winters braced a hip on the edge of the table, good cop to the agent’s bad cop. “Saldana is still going to be looking for her, whatever else he’s up to. That will be the fastest way to get the information that is on the hard drive she brought us.”

  Ah, so they couldn’t crack the encryption on the device she’d risked her life to bring them. Scary, if you thought about the crack techs they had in the DEA.

  “Look at it this way.” The captain folded his arms. “You’ll be protecting her as well.”

  “What if she makes me?”

  “That’s up to you,” Michaels said with a shrug. “You can follow her at a distance or play lover boy, no difference. But don’t lose her.”

  ***

  Isabella drove by the imposing Miami mansion three times, working up her nerve. Driving a car after not doing so for four years was a challenge, but she hadn’t wanted to raise suspicion by hiring a cab to pass back and forth. At least this way she’d get a better look at the place that was guarded like a fortress, complete with wrought-iron fence with wicked-looking tips on the top.

  She’d been in the city three days, using part of the money she’d smuggled from Santiago’s compound to buy two fake ids, complete with a credit history that set her up with a gorgeous hotel room. The other part she’d used to buy information about where Santiago’s cousin’s house was. Two false starts and here she was, driving past the house where her son was being held, waiting for her to come for him.

  The security guard in the little building by the gate—seriously, not twenty feet from the front steps—stepped out to watch her fourth pass. Okay, maybe she should have timed it better, spaced it out more, but she’d never been the patient type.

  So she tugged at the hem of her blouse, exposing more cleavage, pushed her skirt up her thighs, then pulled over and rolled down the window of the rented economy car. “Hi. I’m so lost! Can you help me?”

  Men were so predictable. “What can I do for you?” he asked, not even ashamed of himself for staring at her breasts.

  “I’m from out of town, and I’m supposed to be visiting my friend, but I’m sure she doesn’t live in a place with houses so big.” She widened her eyes in an attempt to look innocent. “I must have taken a wrong turn.”

  He leaned in the door. “Where are you trying to get?”

  “She said she lived near Coral Gables. But she’s a single mom. No way she can get something like this.” She leaned over as she waved toward the magnificent stucco house.

  “You have her address?” the guard asked her boobs.

  Uh, for an imaginary friend with an imaginary address? No. She fumbled with the map she’d used to find this house, squinted at it, passed it to him with a sheepish grin. “It started with a P. I’m terrible with names.” Seriously, she could have been a blonde.

  He wasn’t even suspicious. “Yeah, a lot of people get confused with all the Spanish-sounding street names. Let me have a look. Could it be Pomona? Poinciana? Perugia? Palmetto, maybe?”

  She made her face brighten. “That last one—is it far from here?”

  “No, babe. You just took a wrong turn off Ponce de Leon.” He returned the map to her, smug as could be.

  She tucked it away. “I know her house won’t be as nice as this one.” She sighed. “Now that would have been a vacation.”

  “Tell me about it. I can’t even go in to use the restroom.”

  She widened her eyes. “Uncool.”

  “There are some perks.” He leaned casually on the door. “I have connections to get into some of the hottest clubs in Miami. You think you and your friend would like to head down to The O tonight?”

  She thought fast. He said he couldn’t even get into the mansion to use the restroom. What good would getting to know him do her? But she had a better chance of being admitted if she knew him than if she didn’t. She slid her thighs together. He noticed, his nostrils flaring, like he was trying to smell her.

  “Even if she doesn’t, I do. We don’t have much nightlife where I come from.”

  He smiled, slow and nasty. “Okay. Meet me down there at eleven. Think you can find it?”

  She let herself look sheepish. “I’ll do my best.”

  “My name’s Henry. Ask for me. They’ll let you in.” He straightened and slapped the door, signaling her on her way.

  “I’m Bethany.” She gave him one last smile and drove off, shaking all over.

  From a compound in the middle of the jungle, isolated for four years, being thrust into Miami crowds in a dark, loud disco was culture shock. She maneuvered through the crowd in her new heels and silk wrap dress. She kept her chin up, scanning the crowd for Henry. He’d seemed tall, in front of Santiago’s mansion, but she couldn’t be sure.

  Plus, even in these heels, she was barely five six. Who knew so many tall people lived in Miami? Maybe tonight was Tall People night at The O.

  Someone grasped her arm and she jolted, bar
ely able to calm herself as she turned to face Henry, her hand over her heart.

  “Oh, you scared me,” she shouted over the pulsing music.

  “You look fantastic.”

  She wondered that he could recognize her. He was staring at her breasts again. She’d expected it, though, and hadn’t worn a bra beneath the soft fabric. She could see by the light in his eyes that he liked it.

  Whatever it took to find out where her son was.

  “Did your friend come?” he asked as he led her through the crowd to an alcove, guarded by another big guy. Henry nodded at the man as he passed, but the men didn’t make eye contact.

  Was he taking her back there to fuck her? Here? She was willing to sleep with him to get inside the mansion. Doing so would erase Alex’s touch on her skin, but she could make the sacrifice if it meant getting to her son. She’d be damned if she slept with him before she got what she wanted. She was done with that.

  He started up the steps to what looked like a plush and cozy booth, the stage already set with two glasses and a bottle of wine. Seriously, did the guy get laid this way?

  She’d certainly led him to believe he would get lucky tonight.

  Slowly he turned as she tugged at the sleeve of his expensive suit. He lifted one dark eyebrow in question.

  “I love this song. Let’s dance.”

  He opened his mouth to protest, but she was already moving away toward the floor, beckoning him to follow with a wiggle of her breasts. Reluctantly he did, and she rewarded him with a slide of her ass against his crotch.

  God. He had been ready to fuck her. She needed to keep him out on the floor as long as she could.

  He leaned down as the next song started. “I got us some good stuff back at the table.”

  “Oh, one more song, please?” She widened eyes. “I never get to go dancing back home.” That wasn’t a lie.

  He grunted, and this time she hooked an arm around his neck and pressed against him, shimmied, then moved away.

  Again he tried to lure her to the alcove, but she backed up. “I have to powder my nose.” Did women still say that? She hadn’t had much human interface the past four years, only what she saw on TV.