Protector (20 page)

But he didn’t want this to end so fast. They had hours before they docked, and he intended to make the most of every minute they spent behind a locked door he’d
barricaded with a metal table. So he ground his teeth, reined in the throbbing need to pump his hips along with the stroke of her fingers until he spilled himself onto her stomach. He wanted—
had
—to be inside her.

The swaying light overhead cast a warm glow over the dusky rose of her nipples, still tight and damp from his mouth minutes earlier. It was clear she wanted this every bit as much as he did.

His hand fell to the knot in her sarong, tied at her hip. A deft flick later and the length of fabric loosened. Inch by inch, he tugged the silk between them, the softness of the skirt replaced by her infinitely softer skin. Finally, she was naked other than her panties. The narrow bunk limited his access, not to mention made it damn near impossible to look his fill. And God, how he wanted to see her.

He slid from on top of her to kneel beside the bed. She rolled to her side, reaching for him, cupping the length of him framed by the open fly of his shorts. Her little purr of pleasure, her obvious desire for him, cranked the heat so high the fan couldn’t begin to ease the steam rising.

“Patience…” His whisper warmed along the creamy skin of her stomach, his thumbs hooking in her underwear.

He pressed a kiss first to her bruised ribs, then along her stomach, enjoying the way her hands moved restlessly over his shoulders, in his hair. Skimming her panties down, down, down her endlessly long legs, he followed the path of his hands with his mouth. She moaned when he rasped his unshaven cheek along her thigh. She sighed when he kissed behind her knee.

And when he worked his way back up the inside of her leg, she went very still, her breath coming faster until he nuzzled, urging her to open for him. One of her feet slipped to the floor as she continued to lie back on the bunk.

Yes.
Every nerve ending inside him shouted in unison as he caught the scent of her. Lapped at the essence of her. His tongue flicked at the little bundle of nerves swollen and taut as her nipples, letting him know she was every bit as hot for this as he was.

Her head thrashed against the pillow, her red hair spilling over the side and onto the floor. A flush started over her skin, broadcasting how close completion lurked… He flicked his tongue faster, harder, while he explored her slickness with one finger, then two.

Her nails bit into his arms, deeper. With her hands and her scent all over him, he could just as easily come undone right now, too. While continuing to sip, nuzzle, suckle along her heated core, he reached for his pants, dipping into the pocket, searching for his wallet and the one thing he’d made damn sure not to be without since the first time he’d put his lips on Jolynn’s.

He fumbled through until he finally found one of the condoms he’d stored away. Three seconds later, he’d sheathed himself. Anticipation seared his veins, his brain, his ability to think about anything but kissing his way up her stomach, higher still until he stretched on top of her.

Her eyes were glazed and dilated and completely fixed on his face. Without a word, he thrust inside her. Her back bowed upward, a sigh of pleasure filling the cabin as she squeezed around him, tighter, pulsing again and again until her breathy gasps turned into a moan.

Slanting his mouth over hers, he caught her next shout of release and moved inside her, driving her to a second release that clamped a silken vise around him. To hell with holding back, he let go and rode the orgasm right along with her. Her legs locked around his hips, her heels digging into his ass, and their sweat-slicked bodies rocked against each other in time with the roll of the ferry along the waves.

By the time the last aftershock rocked through him, he realized his fist was knotted in her hair. Probably too tightly. And he had to be heavy on top of her because he could barely find the strength to lift himself off her.

Sated, he flipped to his back, holding her to him the entire time until her limp body draped over his. The tired little fan overhead circulated air over their bare skin— not that he’d ever managed to get his pants down, only open. He stroked back her hair as she buried her face in his neck. Having her here in his arms felt so damn right, that for the first time in years, he closed his eyes and fell deeply, dreamlessly, asleep.

*  *  *

The shower stall in the ferry cabin wasn’t big, but Jolynn figured they didn’t need much room anyway when they were plastered against each other. The last ripples of her release shimmered through her as her leg slid down his and back to the floor again. Water sloshed down their bodies, swirling into the drain. Anyone with hearing would buy into their story about being newlyweds. She’d given up trying to stay quiet two orgasms ago.

Chuck eased from inside her and slowly turned her muscleless body around, adjusting the showerhead over her hair. Before she could ask, she smelled the shampoo in the air and his fingers started the most delicious massage along her scalp. She didn’t even consider protesting. They’d explored every inch of each other’s bodies over the past five hours.

And with that thought came a chilling memory, of the moment she’d felt the ridges on his shoulders, seen the scars on his thighs. She had to ask….  And he had to know she would…

“What happened to your back? The scars?”

His hands in her hair hesitated for a second before he
lifted the long mass up to the water. “An overseas op didn’t go as planned. I spent some time as a prisoner. The people who had me weren’t very… hospitable.”

The water might as well have turned to ice. Her body chilled from the inside out. She hadn’t guessed, even knowing he was in the military. “You were a POW? In the Middle East?”

His hands curled around her shoulders. “You should realize by now that I don’t participate in your standard sorts of military missions. Much of what I do is secret, under the public radar.”

His words stirred a whole black abyss of possibilities. Her world had been plenty dark growing up. She knew what sorts of horrors amoral people could inflict on another. And if he was out there fighting an undercover war, those he engaged would have no rules or any sort of accountability.

Even knowing what she did, having seen the brutal world they lived in, her stomach still rolled at what must have happened to leave such deep scars on his body.

She started to turn, to wrap her arms around him and hold him safe and alive right there. But he stopped her. His grip on her shoulders tightened and she realized he didn’t want her comfort.

So she said simply, “I’m so very sorry.”

Without answering, he lathered her hair again, his thick strong body pressed to hers in the tiny cubicle. The tension in his knotted muscles relayed too painfully well what it had cost him to share even that much with her. The enormity of what he did in his secret ops military world seeped through her. Men like him didn’t exist in her world, not the shady one she’d grown up in, and definitely not in her corporate button-up life in Dallas.

He was a special breed.

Her forehead fell to rest on the tile, her eyes burning, flooding, overflowing with the pain he seemed unable to express and she couldn’t escape. Tears mingled with the water streaking down her face as she stood silently while he finished washing her hair.

*  *  *

An hour after the ferry docked in Salerno, Jolynn tilted her face into the muggy midday wind whipping through the Fiat’s open windows as they drove deeper into rural Italy. About twenty miles ago, he’d let her roll them down, which she took to be a good sign.

Thank goodness they’d been able to bring the car. She understood they had to stay alive but stealing a car didn’t feel right. He’d swapped license plates twice already— just stealing those made her feel weird enough— and fueled the car once. He had money, a false passport. She had no idea how much longer he intended to keep this up. At some point he should check in, right?

But he wasn’t talking much. In fact, he’d clammed up right after she’d asked him about the scars. She hadn’t realized at first how he’d shut down. He’d distracted her by making love again in the narrow bunk until they’d both been too exhausted to stay awake.

At least she assumed he’d slept.

She glanced over at his set face with harsh angles and dark circles under his eyes. “Road trips are becoming quite a habit for us.”

“Uh-huh.” Chuck nodded, staring straight ahead at the rural highway as they passed the precise rows and rows of a vineyard.

“That’s my guy. Mr. Conversation.” She watched the breeze ruffle his hair.

She wanted to crawl across the seat and give him a kiss guaranteed to knock his flip-flops off. He definitely stored some mighty strong passions behind his analytical facade.

It was only physical. Wasn’t it? Their out-of-control, mind-blowing, rock-her-world sex on the ferry didn’t have to change a thing.

Yeah, right. Fat chance. “Are you certain we aren’t being followed?”

Chuck grunted, gripping the steering wheel as their little car ate up the miles. Green farmland stretched ahead for miles, broken only by the occasional villa.

“What does that mean?” She imitated his grunt.

“Yes. I’m sure.”

And men claimed women were moody. “I hate it when you give me those cryptic answers that explain nothing.” She tried to console herself with the fact that his methodical side would keep them alive.

He didn’t look away from the road. “I guess it’s just a habit I have when I’m thinking.”

“You must do a lot of thinking.”

“Yeah.”

“Chuck!”

“Sorry.” His face dimpled with a half grin, but he still didn’t say anything more.

The enforced inactivity in the car left her restless. Or maybe it was the man himself who made her feel like her skin was suddenly too tight for her body. Jolynn drummed her fingers against the armrest, while trying to determine exactly where they were— as if that might give her some control over her life. A truck rumbled past in the other lane. A lopsided barn rested on a hill alongside ancient trees and one corner of castle remains.

Having exhausted all the scenery outside the car, she
studied the man beside her. His looks had somehow shifted over the past days, beyond the simple alterations to his clothing. The quiet scholar had transformed into someone more aloof.

The mixture of both men created a fascinating picture. She knew she wanted him, probably would have every inch of him once they got to wherever they were going. Why didn’t that make her feel better?

“Chuck.” Her voice cracked, so she tried again. “Where are we going?”

“To a friend’s cottage.”

She groaned at his clipped, cryptic answer and abandoned her quest for conversation.

*  *  *

A half hour later, the car slowed as Chuck turned onto a dusty, unpaved road. The Fiat shimmied, ambling over the rutted path. The canopy of olive trees parted, unveiling a small cottage. A porch as large as the main structure encircled the one-story stone structure.

Chuck parked the car in back, not that anyone could see the house from the road. An overgrown vineyard provided a thick wall between them and anyone who might actually venture this far out.

“Stay in the car while I take a quick look around.” He slid from the car, his hand resting on his weapon. The area looked deserted, but he wasn’t taking anything for granted.

Livia had offered to let him use the rustic retreat once, back when he’d been recovering from his injuries, working his ass off to walk without crutches or braces. He’d hit another low point after he and Annette broke up. Life had been a roller coaster during his recovery. Livia had said her mother used the place for a creative retreat, that it rejuvenated
the soul. The slow pace of the country and the mellow Italian sun had pulled him out of his slump.

While he’d been forced to drive for a while, the place was a godsend. Out of the way. Anyone after him would have no reason to look for him here. And once Livia knew he was gone, she would put two and two together and tell the colonel exactly where to look.

His cursory search showed everything was just as it had been when he left last time. No unexpected visitors. Just privacy and a little dust.

He opened the door and reached behind to lift out the sacks of groceries and supplies they’d bought earlier in a small town he’d felt reasonably sure was safe. He’d used cash and kept it quick. “We’re all clear.”

Jolynn’s footsteps crunched along leaves and gravel as she followed him. He had to give her credit. She hadn’t complained, and she’d sure held her own when they’d hauled ass over the balcony at the safe house— a safe house that wasn’t so safe after all. He admired her grit. She’d known when to take care of herself and when to follow rather than insisting on charging out solo. Even his pal Livia hadn’t always known where to draw that line.

He climbed the stone steps without speaking. He’d faced some hefty ghosts during his time here, finally dealing with the crap that had happened to him during his captivity. But he’d left here ready to put on his uniform again. He’d come to peace with the fact he wouldn’t fly anymore. Wouldn’t be in the thick of things with his crew in the dark ops squadron.

Yet here he was again.

He passed her the bag. “I thought you might want a little privacy to shower and change after our drive today.”

And no way could he let himself think of how they’d showered together earlier, how with a few simple words she’d
peeled back any protective barriers he’d built over what happened to him in Turkey.

Turning away fast, but not quick enough to miss the confusion in her eyes, he charged back outside to attend to the business of securing the perimeter in case someone did find them. For years working in air force top secret tests, he’d had the most advanced technology at his fingertips. Right now, however, he was stuck with a MacGyver approach from things at his disposal and a couple of items purchased when they bought clothes.

Emptied cans to hang from the bushes to rattle— a technique used back in the Vietnam era.