The Protected

NINETEEN

THE hotel had seen better days, that was for certain. It was mostly vacant, on an isolated little strip along the Texas interstate. The terrain had gone from lush and green to flat and brown, with scraggly little bushes that looked like they struggled to stay alive.

Kind of like the hotel.

Punch drunk with fatigue, she looked toward the highway, half expecting to see another SUV, a sedan with black windows . . . something ominous. It had been quiet for more than a day, ever since she and Gus had left the pyro tied up on the porch of that tiny little shack back in Louisiana.

She’d called Taylor. He’d said he’d handle it.

No telling how he was handling it, but she’d kept an eye on the news in that area. No reports of fires springing up out of the blue, so she didn’t have to have that on her head.

And nobody else had caught up to them yet. The best she could do was hope they could get some rest before anyone new showed up on her radar. A couple of hours, she thought.

That was all she wanted.

“Are you thinking about running?”

She looked behind her as Gus came out of the bathroom.

She’d already showered and changed into some clothes he’d picked up for her earlier in the day. The tank top and yoga pants were comfortable enough to sleep in, but if she had to move—or fight—she could.

The only direction she really wanted to move just then, though, was toward the bed. She was so damn tired. Turning away from the window, she decided she’d do just that. This might be her last chance to get any decent rest for a while, right?

“No,” she said, shooting him a dark look. “I’m not thinking about running. For the hundredth time. If I decide I’m going to run, Gus, you’re not going to see me doing something so obvious as staring yearnfully out the window.”

A moment passed and then he echoed, “Yearnfully? Is this really a word?”

“Oh, bite me,” she muttered. She stretched out on the bed closest to the door. She had her Glock on the table right next to her, and out of habit, she reached for it, checked it. Loaded. Ready. It didn’t do much to ease any of the weight on her mind.

She put it down and closed her eyes.

Five seconds later, she jerked up in the bed as Gus lay down next to her, shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of loose-fitting gray pants. Low-slung, they revealed far too much for her peace of mind. But then again, everything about Gus was too much for her peace of mind. “What are you doing?”

“Lying down.” He rolled on his side to face her. “You should do the same.”

She glared at him. “There are two beds.”

“There are.” He reached up and touched her lips, and her skin all but buzzed from the light contact. “But I’m going to be closest to the door. And even if you move to that other bed, Vaughnne, once we’ve both had some rest, I plan on being inside you again. Before we leave this room, if nothing else goes wrong.”

She gaped at him.

Part of her wanted to sneer at him.

The other part wanted to forget how dog-tired she was and just crawl on top of him, take him now.

“You know, that’s a terribly romantic proposal,” she said, shooting for sarcasm. Hopefully it would keep him from realizing just what she was thinking. Feeling. Wanting . . . “But I’m thinking I might pass. You have it in your head that it’s a foregone conclusion, pal, the two of us getting it on again. Whoever said it was going to be a repeat?”

He just stared at her, and after a minute, a faint smile tugged up the corners of his lips. “Why don’t you get some sleep, Vaughnne?”

“Are you going to move to the other bed?”

“I’m staying closest to the door.” He stroked his thumb across her lower lip and then lifted his hand, settled it between them on the bed. That was when she saw the gun—that Sig Sauer he carried around like it was a pacifier. “If you don’t want to share the bed, then you can move to the other one.”

She should do just that. Really.

But instead, she lay down.

From the corner of her eye, she could see that smile of his. Infuriating. She rolled away from him and gave him her back. The guy was hot as hell, too beautiful to be real. And arrogant as all get-out.

Knowing that last part didn’t make it any easier to convince herself she wasn’t going to have sex with him once she woke up.

She already knew what was going to happen.

Assuming they had the chance.

THE phone rang.

Nalini rolled up off the bed, grabbing the phone as she moved. She checked the caller ID and looked up to see Reyes glaring at her. Her hold only lasted for a short time when she wasn’t in physical contact, and she had no desire to stay in physical contact with this guy indefinitely.

Tying him up, though, that always worked.

“Hello?” She smiled at him as she brushed her fingers over his brow, establishing the connection, looking for what she needed. He made it too easy. He was greedy and grabby and wanted everything. She twisted those needs and used them against him. Sinking the compulsion deep inside him, she promised him, You can have what you want . . . me. Hurt me as bad as you want. After you help me. Again . . .

It was all lies, but he didn’t know that. Didn’t have to, either. He’d figure it out once the compulsion wore off, but it wouldn’t help him then. You’re going to tell them everything is fine. She set the guidelines mentally as she spoke with his second in command.

They’d all looked at Reyes as though he’d lost his mind when he told them that everybody was going to leave. He wanted a few days alone with his lady. That was the lie Nalini had offered him last time. She wouldn’t be mad at him for hitting her, she’d never leave again, she’d do him however he wanted her to . . . and damn, the guy was a freak. However he wanted sometimes included the kind of violence that women sometimes died from.

As a voice jabbered on in her ear, she held Reyes’s gaze, watched as his eyes went unfocused, and she felt it when her hold on him snapped into place. “Yes, he’s here . . . we’ve been . . . well, I can’t tell you that, but he was still in bed.”

She smiled a little as she put the call on speaker. She kept one hand on his cheek as they lapsed into Spanish. Some part of him tugged against her hold, and she wrapped her will more tightly around him, felt him acquiesce.

“No, no . . .”

Reyes smiled, a dazed, blissed-out look on his face as spoke to his second, Yes, yes, everything is fine. No, you are not to return yet. Yes, we are well . . .

“Mañana . . .”

Nalini swore silently and pressed harder on his mind. Not tomorrow. Tell him to call.

Reyes went white around the eyes under the strain of her hold, but his voice was steady as he relayed just that to his second in command. She was pushing her luck, she knew it. But she was going to finish what she started here, and she had to finish dealing with the website, too. All of that took time, and she kept having to stop and reinforce her damn hold on Reyes every time he had a phone call.

They spoke for another few minutes and then the call disconnected. She broke contact with him, but he continued to sit there, a dazed, happy look on his face, almost like he was high.

“If somebody gets to sit around looking all strung out and happy, why can’t it be me?” she muttered as she headed back to the desk.

“Come here, Nala,” Reyes said, his voice low and heated. “I can make you happy.”

She made a face. The only way he’d make her happy was when she left him far, far behind her. She didn’t know if she’d be able to do that without killing him or not. The option was looking less and less likely, too. This fixation he had on the boy wasn’t going to end unless he died, but that would bring about a whole other mess of problems. When men like Reyes died, people noticed, and she hadn’t come in equipped for that. This should have been a simple information-gathering operation. It was proving to be the most screwed-up disaster ever.

But she couldn’t walk away . . . not from that boy.

As she checked the progress on the psychic site, she glanced up at him. “Why the boy, Reyes?”

Something else she’d like while he was feeling cooperative—answers.

“The boy?” he echoed.

Something flickered in his mind. Her hold was slipping. Already. Son of a bitch.

It should have lasted longer than that. Instead of looking at the computer, she remained where she was, staring at Reyes. “Yeah. What’s the deal with the boy?”

“He’s my son,” Reyes said, his voice thick, the words coming reluctantly. “He’s mine.”

“Yours?” she echoed. “So you miss him, then? You love him? Want to bring him home and . . .”

His lip curled. “Love him. No. Until I knew what he could do, he was just useful to keep his cunt-mother happy. A man in my position needs a beautiful woman at his side. She served her purpose. But then I realized what he could do. And he’s my son. He will come home.”

Useful . . .

Nalini gathered up her hair, securing it at her nape as she settled back behind the computer. Well, that solved that riddle. The images of the night the woman died still weren’t clear. This wasn’t the man who killed her, but he was behind the attacks on the boy, was hunting him down like a wild animal. Not out of love, but because the boy was useful.

She tapped at a few keys and finally—she had the information she needed. What she really wanted to do was take the entire website down, see it crash and burn, but Jones might need the information on it to track people down. Too much vigilante shit taking place on it, and that was just bad, bad news. Somebody needed to blow that thing wide open.

But she’d hacked in a mod’s ID with enough clearance to delete that profile. She already knew where it had originated from . . . here. Esteban. The missing Esteban. She’d heard Ignacio ordering his men to find the cabrón and bring him in, but she had a funny feeling they wouldn’t be finding the man. He’d had a desperate look about him when he’d left here . . . how long ago had it been? Almost two weeks ago? She couldn’t even remember. Maybe three? Closer to three, she thought. All the days were running together. But Esteban’s eyes, yeah. That she remembered. He’d had the look of a desperate man, and since he hadn’t found the boy, she had a feeling he’d be doing almost anything to avoid coming back here.

Still, while she was on the inside, she collected as much information as she could. There were others here that had caught her interest. Nobody wanted to catch Nalini’s interest. Ignacio had, and look where it had landed him.

First, screen shots of everything and she saved them, e-mailed them to a personal account. She’d access it later and start researching. Once she was away from here. Then she deleted the job listing, wiping it off the server, as well as any and all responses to it. She couldn’t do anything if it had been cached anywhere on the Net, but if it wasn’t an active job posting, maybe some of the people on his ass would stop. The pragmatic sorts, at least.

After she’d done that, she took care of the protective measures to make sure nobody could get on the computer and find out what she’d been doing. Reyes was no computer genius but he had plenty of them around.

By the time she was done removing all traces from the computer, so much time had passed that Reyes had thrown off all signs of the compulsion, and when she looked up, he was watching her with the soulless, dead eyes of a killer. “Why are you asking about Alejandro?” he asked gently.

“Who?” She smiled at him, the coy, promising smile that had suckered him into bringing her here. Of course, it hadn’t just been a smile. She’d thrown in a few casual touches, a few whispered innuendos, basically getting him all hot and bothered.

Now he was icy and cold, like he was already planning the ways he wanted to kill her.

“My son.”

She blinked at him. “You have a kid?”

“Don’t play the stupid puta with me, Nala. I know what you are, what you can do. Is that why you hunt him? You want him for yourself?”

She studied him for a minute. “You would think something like that, wouldn’t you?”

She shut down her computer and stood up. She needed to find anything and everything she could that had belonged to the boy, or to his mother. Once she had those things, she had to destroy them. He had already figured out what she was, so he’d figure out there were more. Ignacio hadn’t been the brains behind The Psychic Portal move, but since he knew there were others out there, she didn’t want him to have any decent tools within his grasp if he decided to reach out to others to help look for his son.

“How do you know about my son?”

She smiled at him. “Madame Nala sees all, knows all.”

The look in his eyes told her he didn’t know if he believed her or not. She managed not to laugh in his face. If he thought she was some all-seeing, all-knowing thing, it might work to her benefit.

He wasn’t just going to buy it, though. “You don’t think I will just believe that, do you?”

“I don’t care what you believe, Reyes.” Nalini shrugged. “Doesn’t matter jack to me. Why don’t you sit there and mentally jack off as you think about the way his mama cried when you hit her because she said she’d leave?”

Direct hit.

She saw his lashes flicker, the only sign that she’d been right on target. But she knew she had. She’d been living in this hell for too long and she’d picked up enough impressions. From the house. From the jewelry he’d given her. From him.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said after just a few seconds too long.

“No?” She shrugged and started to gather up her things. After she went over the house, she had to get out of here. She had to do this fast, too.

As she strode past him, he jerked against the chair. “Let me loose, Nala. Now. If you don’t . . .”

She paused and looked over at him, smiling a little. “You’ll what? Put your hands on me? Haven’t you seen what happens when you do that?”

His mouth spasmed. “I don’t need to touch you to make you pay. A bullet in the back of your head will suffice.”

“You have to catch up with me first.” She shrugged and left the room. The clock was running. She had to gather up anything that could be used to find Alex. She had to gather up anything and everything of hers, but she’d already taken care of most of that. A few other pieces of information.

So much to do . . . so little time.

GUS expected to sleep lightly, or not at all.

He was in bed with somebody else, and that shouldn’t be conducive to restfulness.

It was something of a surprise when he found himself drifting to slow awareness. Slow . . . pleasant . . . awareness.

He took stock of his surroundings, mentally taking note. Had anything changed? Dirty, smoke-stained ceiling overhead—all of that had been the same as last night. Ugly art on the walls—it had been just as ugly the night before. Thick, blackout curtains on the windows—the only change there was the thin stream of light filtering in through the narrow gap. Hotel room—a piss-poor excuse of a room.

Damn, what he wouldn’t give to take Vaughnne to a place of luxury, where crystal and gold glinted, where the bed was as soft as a cloud and the cotton sheets felt as smooth and soft as silk against her skin as he lay her down to make love to her.

Instead, they were in this old, run-down pile of bricks that had seen better days.

His brain processed everything else, even as he dwelled a little longer on the fantasy. He still had his weapon, gripped in his right hand. And his left hand . . . he closed his eyes and let himself linger in the moment. A few more seconds, he decided, couldn’t really hurt anything, could it? If this was all they’d ever have, why not enjoy what he could?

Vaughnne muttered in her sleep and snuggled in closer, her face tucked against his neck, her arm slung over his waist. She was as close to him as she could be without crawling on top of him, and if she decided to do that, he wouldn’t mind.

He’d actually enjoy it. He’d love to see her riding him, freeing his hands to touch that strong, limber body.

Heat spread through him as he thought of it, and he had to fight the urge to bring that hot fantasy to life, right then, right there. His dick insisted that he’d warned her. He’d told her he planned on having her again, and if she wanted that not to happen, she should have gone to the other bed.

But the other part of him remembered how she had looked at him with sad, somber eyes the previous day when she’d pulled a gun on him.

Saving me. It was a lovely, naïve thing that she thought he could actually be saved at this point in his life. He’d killed. He’d stolen. He’d long since grown immune to the wet sound a bone made as he broke it. He’d done so many awful things, and up until Alex had come into his life, he’d been about ready to go down in a blaze of glory, too. Tired of it all.

Now he was still tired, but mostly, he was tired of running. Tired of being afraid of what would happen. He didn’t fear for himself, but for Alex. Now for her.

She thought she was saving him.

So he could let himself be a little less of a monster and not be the greedy bastard he truly was.

If she wanted him—

She woke up.

SHE’D expected to get maybe an hour of sleep. Two, if she was lucky.

That was how life had been going ever since she’d hit Orlando, after all. Nothing went the way she’d hoped.

But when she woke up, her head wasn’t muzzy with exhaustion, and her body wasn’t raging in fury at the thought of getting out of bed. It was just growling a little.

And Gus lay in the bed next to her.

His long, lean form, so strong, so warm. His hand curved over the swell of her hip, and as she lay there, his fingers spread wide, for just a minute, as though he was learning the feel of her. She wanted to do the very same thing to him, spread her hands open and learn every damn inch of his body.

She caught her breath, remembering what he’d told her.

But instead of him rolling her onto her back, when he moved, it was to pull away.

“We need to get on the road,” he said, his voice level. Emotionless.

She sat up, staring at his naked back. “The road?” she echoed. What had happened to all his talk about getting her naked? Getting inside her again?

“Yes. I have to make a few calls about getting us across the border.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “I take it you didn’t bring your passport?”

“Actually, I do have it.” Although illegally entering a country was probably going to be the least of her crimes by the time this was all said and done. And just what had happened to getting her naked? She stared at him a minute longer, but all he did was shift off the bed, crouching by the bag he’d left on the floor.

And that was it. Watching his bowed head, she realized his mind was already on other things. Fine. I’m not going to let him see I’m put out over this. I’m not. And I’m not put out by it. I’m . . .

Climbing out of bed, she headed to the minuscule bathroom and locked herself inside.

Oh, the hell I’m not.

Emotion tangled inside her, too complicated to really put her finger on. Hurt? Yeah. There was some of that, for certain. Bruised pride? Maybe a little. Okay, more than a little. It was arousing, knowing somebody wanted you. Really wanted you . . . and then to have him not want you? It was a punch in the gut. The hurt and bruised pride twisted in her, but it went deeper than that. She couldn’t even figure out everything she felt, either.

Disappointment seemed like such a minor word for the empty ache she felt inside. It went too deep for just mere disappointment.

“I don’t have time for this,” she muttered. Squaring her shoulders, she made herself stare at her reflection. She looked sad and miserable and lost, like a girl who’d been stood up by the cute guy in high school.

That wasn’t going to cut it. She had a job to do, and it was going to get ugly before it got better. Hell, it might not get better for her. She’d already acknowledged that fact. But if she walked into this looking like a whipped puppy, then it was just going to snowball into one hell of a bad mess, and that, she did not need.

Taking a deep breath, she shoved everything aside. So Gus didn’t seem to want her the way he’d made her think. In the end, that didn’t matter. Not to the job, at least, and the job was why she was here. The job and only the job. Having the hot and sexy Gus along the wayside had been both a bonus and a complication, but in the end, he wasn’t the focus.

Alex was.

She’d been sent to Orlando to watch over a kid.

Somebody else was taking point on that job now, but that didn’t mean she was done. Her current objective was to keep that kid safe, and the threat to him had grown exponentially. She had to get her game on and stay focused.

With that in mind, she turned away from the mirror and stripped out of her clothes. She needed to shower and clear her head. She needed coffee, but they’d grab that on the road.

Game on, she told herself as she climbed under the miserable, stingy spray. Game on.

THE woman who ducked into the bathroom had been quiet, somber, and he couldn’t help but think he’d hurt her. He wouldn’t let that get to him. He was used to hurting women. Not physically, but when the job included assignments like seduction and espionage, people did end up with their feelings bruised, their pride.

It wasn’t so easy to shrug it off when the woman was Vaughnne, and he told himself that maybe he’d misunderstood her. After all, she’d told him he was arrogant, had mouthed off to him before they fell asleep. He was just respecting her wishes, really.

The door to the bathroom opened and the woman came striding out, wearing nothing but a bath towel, her hair pulled back and away from her face. Her eyes cut to his, and any sign of sadness or pain was completely gone.

She looked arrogant now. Arrogant, aloof, and the light in her eyes was one of warning.

He stood by the door, waiting, watching.

And damn near swallowed his tongue as she stood in front of the neat little stack of clothes and dropped her towel.

Beads of water still clung to her shoulders, rolled down the slope of her breast as she grabbed a pair of panties. Black. It seemed black and white were her preferred colors in wardrobe choices, so that was all he’d grabbed for her, but he would love to see her in red silk. Blue satin. Emerald green. Anything. Everything. Nothing.

His heart slammed against his ribs as she pulled the panties up over the taut, round curve of her ass. Then she shot him a dark look. “If we need to get on the road, don’t you think you should get ready?”

Ready? If he were any readier, he might die of a heart attack.

She stared at him for a moment and then looked away, that disdainful expression still on her face. She reached for her bra and he locked his gaze on her breasts, memorized those curves for the few brief moments he had left to him. Perfect, he decided. Just about perfect. Full enough for his hands, nothing more and nothing less, her skin that soft, warm brown, and her nipples were a deeper, darker shade. Puckered, and tight, too.

¿Qué carajo? What was he doing? She wanted him. He wanted her. Saving her . . . from what? Himself? She’d said a hundred times if she’d wanted to leave, she’d do just that. And if she tried, he’d let her. He’d already decided that. Because he didn’t need the assurance that she’d look after Alejandro. She would already do it. That was just who she was.

So what or who was he trying to save her from?

He dropped the bag he was holding.

Vaughnne shot him another dark look as she reached for a shirt. “You know, if you’d wanted to stare at my tits, you should have done something about it earlier. We need to get going, right?”

Closing the distance between them, he caught the lapels of the black shirt before she could start to button it up. “It can wait,” he said gruffly. Dipping his head, he pressed his mouth to the curve between her neck and shoulder.

Vaughnne stiffened.

He breathed in the scent of her skin, warm and soft, smelling of the lousy soap the hotel had provided, and something else . . . female, unique to her. The lotion she slicked on her skin, maybe. He didn’t know, but the scent was enough to drive him mad. Raking his teeth along her skin, he caught the collar of her shirt and dragged it down.

She shoved her hands between them. “Hold on there, pal,” she said, her lip curling.

He lifted a hand and cupped her face, dragging his thumb across her mouth, watching as hunger danced in her gaze even as she edged backward.

“I’m not a plaything.” She glared at him. “Hot little pillow talk last night, and then this morning, it’s all serious shit, but five seconds later, you want to put your hands on me again? I don’t do this hot and cold stuff, Gus.”

“Gustavo.” He leaned in, flicking his tongue across her lower lip.

She tensed. “What?”

“My name. It’s Gustavo. And I always want to put my hands on you, Vaughnne,” he whispered, teasing the entrance to her mouth, but she still wouldn’t open for him. “But last night, you talked as though that wasn’t what you wanted. I thought perhaps I’d respect your wishes . . . for once.”

If he wasn’t mistaken, some of the tension eased from her body. “You were trying to play the nice guy?”

“It’s not a role I’m used to.” He caught her lip between his teeth and tugged. “Perhaps it is arrogance. I know women. I know when they want me, and if they don’t, I know how to make them want me. You want me . . . and if you didn’t, I could make you. But then you do silly, naïve things like try and save me. And I lay in bed this morning thinking I didn’t want to make you want me. If you wanted me . . .”

Earlier, she’d fisted her hands against his chest, the tension in her arms keeping him from pulling her close. Now, she sighed and stroked her hands upward, sliding them around his neck. “Gus . . . Gustavo . . . you know, you really strike me as the typical Casanova—you should know everything there is to know about women. So how can you be so damn stupid?”

“I’m not . . . not usually. But you undo me. You make me forget everything . . . make me want to forget everything, even when I cannot.” He skimmed a hand up her back and tangled it in the long, dense tail of her hair. “Let me take you to bed, Vaughnne.”

“I’ve got a better idea.” She leaned back and the slumberous heat in her gaze was like fire in his veins. “Let me take you.”

HIS eyes went hot. So hot, they blazed like silver fire. She pushed against his shoulders, watching him, waiting . . . and he acquiesced, moving backward and letting her push him back onto the bed. She rolled her shoulders, shrugging out of the shirt she’d never gotten around to buttoning up. He sat on the edge of the bed and she stood in front of him, catching his shirt in her hands and dragging it up over his head.

He didn’t do a damn thing to help her, just sat there, watching her with those burning, hungry eyes.

It was almost as erotic as his touch. She went to her knees in front of him and toyed with the button of his jeans until he went back on his elbows. She trailed the tips of her fingers across his belly and watched as the muscles quivered under his skin.

Before she could get too distracted, she reached for the bag she’d left on the floor and hauled it closer, dipping a hand into the interior pocket where she’d stashed the rest of the condoms she’d bought. She pulled out one, wished they had the time to indulge in a hell of a lot more.

But this was all they had.

Something tightened in her throat.

For all she knew, this might really be all . . .

Stop it. This wasn’t the time, wasn’t the place. She had to enjoy it, right?

She tossed the foil packet down on the bed next to him, looking back at him, holding his gaze for a minute. “You ever wish we had an entire night for just this?”

His hand came up and cradled her cheek. “Only from the minute I saw you.”

Her heart clenched in her chest.

“Yeah?” She forced herself to give him a cheeky grin. “Maybe if we don’t both end up dead, we can take that night.”

Before he could say anything else, she reached for the button of his jeans and slid it free. He was already hard and she had to work the zipper down, aching inside at the feel of him under the sturdy denim. Hard, solid, thick. He pressed against the boxers he wore, a heather gray that was soft under her fingers as she caught both the jeans and the underwear in her hands.

He lifted his hips for her to drag the material down, and she caught her breath at the sight of him.

“You . . .” She licked her lips. “You’re not circumcised.”

“No.” His gray gaze locked on her face. “Does that bother you?”

Closing her hand around the base of his cock, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his length, and hunger twisted through her as he shuddered. It gripped his entire body, and when she lifted her head and flicked her tongue over the tip of his cock, he swore, a harsh, guttural phrase in Spanish that she had no hope of understanding. Whatever it was, it was sexy as hell, and the look on his face was almost enough to make her come.

She caught his head in her mouth and sucked on him.

He grabbed her, his hands clenched on either side of her skull as he surged upward.

She sucked him deeper, deeper, until he nudged the back of her throat, and then she eased back upward. Pulling away, she fisted him in her hand and dragged it up, then down, slowly, watching him. As the foreskin moved down, she leaned forward and licked the head of his cock. He swore and jolted, jerking up against her. His hands tangled in her hair. “Again,” he muttered. “Do it again, corazón.”

Heat gathered inside her, spreading through her on a slow burn as she did just that, using her tongue to tease his head. Vaguely, she remembered reading that uncut guys were more sensitive, so she was careful not to pull on him, although damn, it was hard to think because everything she did do seemed to send him higher, and higher.

She sucked him back in, taking him deep, feeling him bump against the back of her throat. Gus groaned and then, as she lifted up to do it again, he moved.

She moved . . . but not because she planned to. In a blur of speed and motion, she was on her back with him crouching between her thighs. He hooked his hands into the waistband of her panties and stripped them down her thighs. “You drive me crazy,” he muttered. “Absolutely out of my mind.”

He grabbed the condom from the bed and tore open the packet. She heard it rip and pushed up onto her elbows to watch as he unrolled it. He pinched it up near to the top and she cocked a brow, trying to memorize just how he did that, because if she had the chance, at some point, she’d actually be the one doing the taking here.

His gaze, heated and hungry, swept over her, and her heart slammed up into her throat as he came down on top of her. He caught one hand in his, and it struck her as absurdly gentle, possessive as he nudged against her entrance. She wanted to say something . . . anything . . . but words didn’t want to come.

“Look at me,” he ordered, his voice harsh and hungry.

She lifted her gaze and the look on his face, stripped of everything but that raw, naked need, hit the very heart of her. They watched each other as he slowly sank inside and Vaughnne had never felt more exposed, had never felt more vulnerable. Her breath hitched in her throat as he pulled back, the swollen head of his shaft stroking over sensitized nerves, and instinctively, she tightened around him, lifting her hips to draw him back in.

His hand tightened on hers as he surged deeper, harder. She moaned, closing her eyes. He let go of her hand and cupped her face, his thumb pressing against her chin. “Don’t close your eyes, corazón . . . mi vida. Watch me. Let me watch you.”

Forcing her lids up, she stared at him.

His gaze was hooded, intent on her face as he withdrew. This time, as he sank inside, he moved up, riding higher on her body, and she cried out as the movement had him rocking against her clit. She reached down, gripping the taut curve of his ass and arching up.

He did it again, and again, but right before the climax would have broken over her, he stopped.

“Gus, please!”

“My name.” He nipped at her lip. “Say my name.”

“Gustavo . . .” She shuddered against him as he shifted once more, this time moving back and settling on his knees, catching her legs and hooking them over his forearms, opening her. “Damn it, you’re killing me.”

A faint smile curved his mouth as he swiveled his hips against her, the slant of his body driving him against her in just the right way. Vaughnne tensed as the pleasure gripped her, wrapping around her and pulling her tighter, tighter . . . “Gus, please.” It ripped out of her in a whimper. “Gustavo . . .”

He rolled forward, her legs still hooked over his forearms, and the action drove him deep, so deep—he swelled, pulsed inside her, so hard, she felt bruised, and it was amazing, but he still wouldn’t let her come. Twisting against him, she worked her arms free and speared her fingers into his hair, lifting her head up to cover his mouth with hers. This time, she was the one to sink her teeth into his lower lip, and when he shuddered against her, she tightened her inner muscles around him. “Stop it,” he muttered.

“CARAJO.” He lifted his head, panting as he stared down at Vaughnne. She tightened around him yet again, the slick muscles of her pussy milking him in another tantalizing, teasing caress. That strong, sleek body of hers would drive him out of his mind, just as he’d expected. So many things he wanted to do to her . . . do with her. And there was just time for this.

“I won’t stop,” she whispered, looking at him with rich, dark brown eyes, a wicked smile on her face. “You’re trying to drive me crazy. I’m going to do the same to you. I—Gus!”

He drove deep, slamming home and shuddering as her cry bounced off the walls. Her head arched back, the slim line of her neck exposed. Her pulse beat a wild tattoo in her neck and he wanted to press his lips to that delicate spot. Wanted to lick away the bead of sweat he could see forming just there on her temple. But he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. All he could do was surge inside her again, again, shuttling in and out as she tightened around his cock, until it was like he was working back and forth inside a silken fist.

Ragged breaths escaped them both and he could feel that rising tension inside her. This time, instead of trying to hold it off, he let it grab her, let it grab them both. It wasn’t enough. Wouldn’t ever be enough, he knew. Shifting, he let go of her legs and banded his arms around her, shaking as she did the same to him.

Locked in each other, he thought.

They were trapped, each possessed by the other.

Her ragged whimper echoed in his ear as she started to climax. He wanted to hear it again, and again. Blood thrummed in his head as he tried to hold back, but the need was a roaring dragon and it consumed him.

The inner muscles of her sheath gripped him, milking him convulsively, and he couldn’t fight it. “Vaughnne,” he rasped into her hair, clutching her tightly against him as he surrendered to that wild, almost painful need . . . to her.