The combination of what she said, the way she said it, and that sensual, smoky voice lit him up. “I bet you rake in the bucks with phone sex.”
“I don’t know. I didn’t get around to trying it.” She dipped her chin, her lids grew heavy, and her voice lowered just a touch. “I was having too much fun with the pole.”
Fiery heat swam through his veins, and liquid heat erupted in his groin. He offered an appreciative laugh and shook his head as he took her hand. But he paused before following her in
—
just to look. She was so small, just about five foot two. And she was one fucking sweet little package, all lush curves and tight muscle. “God, you’re beautiful.”
Her grin was hot as she tugged harder on his arm. He stepped into the shower and drew the door closed, and she draped her arms around his neck and leaned into him. Her lips slid across his, lazy, sultry, and soft. Her bare breasts pillowed against his chest, and he let his hands follow the curve of her torso, her hips, her ass. And sighed with the beauty of it. Of her. Of them. Together.
He turned for the liquid soap, then remembered the toiletries she’d tossed in her bag. “Damn. I should have brought in your bag. All I have is this all-in-one guys’ stuff. Want me to—?”
“You’re not getting out of this shower,” she said, her hands sliding over his ass and pulling their hips together. “And if I had a problem with sandalwood instead of camellia, I wouldn’t be rubbing all over you.”
“I do love the way you rub on me.”
She held on to his arms and leaned back, dipping her head beneath the spray. Marcus watched the rivulets slide down her chest, over her breasts, and drip off her tightened nipples. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized it had been a long damn time since he’d showered with a woman. He also knew that there was something special about Tova. About the way he felt so connected to her, so comfortable with her, so fast.
And he knew he wanted to hold on to her for more than tonight.
When she straightened out of the spray, her hair was pulled off her face, her skin was flushed, making the red marks and bruising fade, and her long dark lashes clumped together. And when she licked the water off her lips, a dimple appeared near the left side of her mouth. His heart did something squirrelly, and he knew—he definitely wanted to explore whatever this was between them.
He poured soap into his hands and smoothed it over her body, avoiding her injuries and taking great pleasure in feeling every inch of her, cupping and massaging her breasts, stroking her belly.
Lowering into a crouch, he slid both hands over one smooth thigh. She flinched and giggled. “Marcus.”
He pulled his attention from the thin strip of dark curls hiding what he wanted most and grinned up at her. “Ticklish?”
“Don’t even,” she said, her grin pulling out her dimple again.
With his gaze on hers, he slid one sudsy hand between her legs and stroked her sex. Her eyes went wide, and her smile fell into a little “O” before the pleasure drifted into her expression, softening all her beautiful features. Her gaze grew heavy, and she bit her lip. She held Marcus’s gaze, but a sliver of insecurity hinted.
He rinsed his hands in the water streaming off her body, stroked her clean, then lowered his gaze to her pussy. Sweet and tight. Rosy and swollen. His mouth watered in anticipation. His lids lowered as he leaned in.
Tova stopped him with a hand on his head. “Marcus?”
Lips parted, the secret treat inches away, he lifted his gaze. Her expression had gone nervous, her shoulders tight. “I…don’t really like that…” she said with a faltering smile. “I…just…I don’t know…” She shook her head slightly as if trying to find a way to describe what she wanted to say. “It’s never…done much for me…”
He stroked his hand down the back of her thigh and lifted her leg, then leaned his shoulder beneath and put all the heat burning his body into his grin. “Then I don’t think anyone was doing it right.” She did that lip-biting thing again. He purposely lowered his gaze to her perfect pussy, now a little more accessible, and admired. “Can I just taste you? Then if you don’t like it, I’ll stop?”
He darted a glanced at her just as her tongue licked at a droplet streaming down her cheek and into her mouth. The sight, with her pussy just inches from his mouth, shot a spear of lust through his belly and straight to his balls. She didn’t exactly answer, but gave an almost imperceptible one-shouldered shrug.
He lowered to one knee for stability and took it slow. Kissed her first, felt her tremble. Then kissed her again with a soft sweep of tongue, heard her intake of breath. Then slid his hands up her thighs, let his fingers stroke her, drawing her folds open, and covered her with his open mouth, suckling and stroking her with his tongue. Slowly. Decadently. Persistently.
Her tang was sweet and soft, like her. The delicacy of it was like licking beer off his lips, and having the taste make him realize he need a deep swig.
“Oh…” Her fingers threaded in his hair, and he lifted his lashes to check her expression. Her eyes were closed, head tilted back, lips parted. Sweet triumph burned through Marcus’s chest, and he watched her reactions as he took more, tasted deeper, explored the swell at the very base of her clit.
“God…” she said, barely audible, her head falling forward and her expression drenched with pleasure, laced with surprise. “Marcus.”
The sound of his name in that voice, with her forehead drawn tight in rising pleasure, drove him crazy. He opened wider, covering her, taking as much of her as he could, swirling the strong tip of his tongue around and around that swell even as it swelled beneath his lips. Even as her hips moved to his rhythm and her fingers locked in his hair.
“Yes…” The pitch of her voice rose, grew tight, “Jesus… Mar—” She cried out. Her hips jerked against his mouth, and Marcus closed his eyes with the delirium of her, held her steady, and ate at her, absorbing her tremors, her heat, her flavor, until her motions melted into shivers.
She was panting as her legs lost strength, and Marcus gathered her into his lap on the floor of his shower. After a moment, she laid her head back against the shower wall, and with water spilling over her, Tova’s lashes fluttered open just enough to show the golden glow of her eyes. A hot smile hinted in the tiny crinkles at the corners.
“You are going to be
so
sorry…” she said between quick breaths, “you showed me…that little hidden talent.”
Ten
Tova rose up on her elbow in bed and winced as she reached for her phone, checking for any missed calls. Marcus had nagged her into taking more ibuprophen before she’d fallen asleep, and she was grateful for his forethought now. With no messages from Cedro waiting, she set her phone down and rolled toward Marcus. He was passed out, sprawled on his back, only a sheet tangled around one muscled thigh. His handsome face was turned toward her, long black lashes in a soft curve along his cheekbone, strong chest rising and falling in slow, deep, even breaths.
He’d fallen asleep just like that while he’d been telling her about his nephews. Midsentence, describing their last Christmas together three years before, he’d finally drifted off to sleep. And a grin broke out on Tova’s face just remembering it again now. Definitely a moment she’d never forget. Just like the two additional rounds of world-rocking sex he’d treated her to after the shower.
Now dawn grayed the sky, and still, Tova couldn’t sleep.
She eased one leg over his hips, rested on her knees--more heavily on the one that hadn’t connected with pavement earlier—and planted her hands on either side of his head. He didn’t stir. Didn’t open his eyes.
“Mar-cus…” she sang softly. Still got nothing. Her smile widened, and she bounced the bed gently.
Still nothing.
Tova sighed and glanced at the nightstand where his gun, keys, badge, and wallet lay. Returning her gaze to his handsome face, she ran her thumb over the full bottom lip outlined in stubble. When he didn’t even flutter an eyelash, Tova rolled from bed and found his T-shirt on the floor. Pulling it over her head, she wandered through the bedroom and bathroom, picking up and folding the clothes and towels they’d left behind.
She held his uniform shirt in her hands, his badge glinting in the dim light. Heaviness settled over her heart, and she traced a finger down the center of the gold metal. The chill beneath her finger immediately brought to mind the black metal bars of the border fence, like a symbol of everything that still stood between them.
How long can this last?
It couldn’t. Not when he found out she planned to help Cedro run the border.
“You’re here. He’s been here. And he owes us money.”
Her kidnapper’s words created uneasy pressure beneath her breastbone. “
He’s been here”
mixed with Cedro’s words when she’d met him at the border fence:
“I’ve got a lead on some work in Calexico.”
She released a breath of confusion and frustration, shaking her head. God, she didn’t understand what was happening.
Pushing the unease from her mind, Tova passed through the bedroom again toward the living room and strolled through the small space. His house was modern. Simple. Technologically equipped with a big flat-screen TV, sleek desktop with some kind of gaming system attached, and a laptop on the kitchen table.
Her gaze skipped to a row of hooks just inside the door, and she wandered that way. A uniform jacket hung there. Beside it, a thick, black belt with numerous keys and a bunch of other gadgets she didn’t recognize. On the floor, mud-caked black boots. Just like those in the bathroom. No sports equipment. No other jackets. No magazines. No sign of hobbies. Just extra work gear. And after listening to him talk about his work—the topic that had brought up his nephews when he’d told her of a child he’d encountered recently—Tova knew his job was obviously the focus of his life.
She ran her fingers over the patch on the jacket sleeve, and her gaze blurred over the words and the emblem, her mind finally turning to Cedro—something she’d been trying to avoid. She wondered where he’d slept last night. If he’d eaten yesterday. If men like the ones who took her were still out there searching for him. The thought of Cedro being kidnapped or killed flooded her with fear and opened a hole in her chest.
She pulled her hand from the patch and wrapped one arm around her waist, picked up a strand of hair near her shoulder with the other, and wound it around her fingers again and again. Surely her parents weren’t getting any sleep either. What would they do if he were killed? Her mother would fall apart. Tova would have to go back to take care of her mother so her father could work and her mother could get the medication she needed. Which would put Tova further behind in school. And because of her late start and her heavy workload, it was already taking forever.
All the troubles Tova had been trying so hard to keep at bay spiraled through her mind, dragging her lower and lower.
Sound touched her ears, and she glanced toward the bedroom. Marcus stood in the doorway, magnificently naked in the shadows, one hand on the doorframe, one rubbing his eyes. “Are you okay?”
Warmth filled her chest. But unease quickly followed. She wasn’t ready to let him go. One night wasn’t enough. But the complications in her life were mounting, complications that could drive them apart.
“I tried to rouse you a couple minutes ago,” she said, smiling as he came toward her in a sleepy saunter, “but you were zonked.”
He came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist, pressed his mouth to her neck. “I felt you gone,” he murmured and grazed her skin with his teeth. “I’m awake now,” he said, his voice heavy with innuendo and his erection pressing against the curve of her spine. “Tell me what you wanted, and I’ll see what I can do.”
Smiling, she leaned into him, loving the way he supported her weight, held her tight. What would it be like to have this in her life every day? She laid her head back and turned to nuzzle his neck, humming with pleasure. She breathed deep, her head going light with the musky male scent of him.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered, serious. “Worried? Scared? Restless?”
She sighed and turned her head to glance through the sidelight by the door, where dawn’s rays lifted the darkness from the sky. “You ever wonder…” she said, not sure what she meant to say, but following her mind’s unfolding thoughts. “What if you weren’t you? What your life would be like if you’d been born in Mexico or Haiti or Kenya?”
He lifted his face from her skin and rested his chin on her shoulder. Tightening his arms, he pulled her fully against him. “Not…in depth. But I do feel a sometimes excruciating sympathy for the people I catch and send back to those very countries.” He paused. “Sounds like something you’ve thought about a lot.”
“It’s all just a crapshoot, you know? None of us have control over where we’re born or to whom. And I’ve been
so
lucky.” Something that often bewildered her when she thought about it. “I was born in the United States by pure fluke. My parents met when my dad was in Mexico doing relief work after college. Back then, getting over the border was easier, and they came to the US hoping to get work, eventually become citizens, and I was born here. But my grandmother, my mother’s mother, got sick, and they went back to Mexico to be with her. Which is where Cedro was born.
“What if Cedro had been born first, and I’d been born second? I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have had all the opportunity I’ve had, all the good fortune I’ve had… My life is so much easier just because—”