Thrill Ride (13 page)

Boss was quick to cut him off with, “If you make a joke about all of us coming out of the closet, Ozzie, I swear I’ll kill you in your sleep tonight.”

“Aw, man! You’re
all
party poopers,” Ozzie pouted.

And, just like that, the Black Knights were in full effect and back in action…

***

Rock used an antiseptic wipe to clean the last vestiges of mud from his fingers before glancing down at his watch and then back to the obscure jungle trail down which Vanessa disappeared.

Thirty
minutes
, he thought dejectedly as he opened a new pack and pulled out a second medicated cloth, scouring his face with it until the smell of alcohol burned his nose. Just thirty measly minutes, half an hour, a mere drop in the bucket on the timeline of his life. That’s all he had left with her…

Mon
dieu
. It hurt more than he ever thought it would. And scared him down to his very bones that it should be that way.

So, it’s good you only have thirty more minutes with her.

That’s what he told himself as he wadded up the used wipes and shoved them in a side compartment of the pack looped over the dirt bike’s handlebars. Unfortunately, he just couldn’t make himself believe it. And when he saw her crashing through the undergrowth, dirty, bedraggled, and so beautiful he could barely breathe, making him hotter than a billy goat in a pepper patch just by stomping toward him with that unconsciously sensuous gate of hers, he knew he was a lost cause.

And he knew he was about to do something colossally stupid. Because it suddenly occurred to him that this was his last chance. His last chance to do something for himself. His last chance to experience something wonderful and pure. And,
oui
, he knew it was a mistake, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t seem to make himself care.

He
wasn’t
going to make it out of this thing alive. The secrecy of his second job—hell, even after all these years he didn’t have the first goddamned clue who his contact was—combined with the speed with which the evidence in all those killings was laid on him, assured him he was up against one or more very powerful, very elite, and very
connected
people. And chances were pretty good he was eventually going to find himself on the wrong end of a bullet or a syringe loaded with enough polonium-210 to drop a horse.

But for now, for the next few minutes, he was going to forget about all of that and live his life. Live it like he’d dreamed of living it before he was dragged from his BUD/S class in order to be trained as a master interrogator. Live it liked he’d dreamed of living it before the black specter of death shrouded everyone and everything that’d made his life worthwhile. Live it like he’d dreamed of living it when he’d been a young man, poling his pirogue out on the coffee-colored waters of the bayou.

And just the thought had Mr. Happy, the brainless wonder, pounding impatiently against the zipper of his cargo pants.

Tu es stupide.
This
is
for
her. This is going to be all for her, so she’ll remember us…

Vanessa finally made her way to him, and some of what he was thinking must’ve been written across his face, because she turned and watched him warily from the corner of her eye. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what,
mon
ange
?” he asked, not surprised his voice came out a low rumble. And, just like always, her sensitive ears picked up on the subtleties of his tone, because she shivered despite the heat. Quickly, efficiently, he transferred his pistols from his waistband to his pack, and she watched the maneuver with wide eyes.

“Like I’m a six-course meal and you haven’t eaten for a week,” she finally answered, swallowing, her lovely, dusky-colored throat working delicately.

He held out a hand to her, and she looked at it like some people might look at a loaded weapon. “I want to kiss you,” he told her.

Unlike what most folks believed, honesty was
not
always the best policy—at least not in his line of work. But he’d learned early on, it could get a man very far with the right kind of woman. And Vanessa Cordero was certainly the right kind of woman.

“But I thought you were in a hurry—”

“We can take a few minutes.”

She shook her head, but she didn’t back away. It was a good sign. “But you said—”

“Now I want to make sure you understand what it means,” he interrupted her again, lowering his chin, peering out at her from beneath his brows. “I want you to understand that it doesn’t change anything. That I’m still gonna drop you back in San Jose and then we’ll likely never see each other again.”

“Rock…” This time she even took a step forward, her eyes pleading. But she still didn’t take the hand he offered. “Don’t do that. We can—”

“I want you to understand that I’ve wanted you from the first time I saw you, and this is assuredly my last chance to do somethin’ about it. And I know it’s selfish of me, and I probably shouldn’t ask this of you, but I want something…something
good
to take with me before I go. Do you understand,
chere
?”

For a moment she did nothing but search his eyes, her chest rising rapidly with each breath, then…bingo.

She placed her small hand in his and nodded her head, taking another step toward him. “I don’t know how you manage to make me agree to things I damn well know I shouldn’t.”
Thank you, sweet, baby Jesus.

He closed his eyes on the prayer, because this woman, this fierce, beautiful,
wonderful
woman was essentially granting a dying man’s last wish. “I’ll make sure you won’t regret it,” he promised, pulling her to him.

And Lord have mercy, he tried to be gentle, but she came against him with her mouth open, seeking. And when his lips found hers, when his tongue delved into the dark, wet mystery of her, he lost it. Just a little bit. And the next thing he knew, he was leaning against the bike, her world-class ass cheeks cradled in his palms, overflowing his hands as he rubbed her against the length of the erection that sprang to life the minute she got within two feet of him.

She was succulent, ripe and sweet and oh-so-wantonly willing, kissing him to within an inch of his life, sucking on his tongue in the most maddeningly delicious way, giving him an idea of how she’d suck—

He groaned when she speared her fingers into his hair, opening to him further, moving against him in that fervent way that only made the ache pulse harder for both of them. He was filled with a kaleidoscope of emotions. Elation. Longing…
Dread.
Because this was going to be over too soon, and then there’d be no more. Nothing more. His past was going to catch up with him or he was going to catch up with his past. Either way, the end result would surely be his death, but in the meantime…

Vanessa…

She hooked the toe of her jungle boot on the dirt bike’s gearshift in order to get closer to him, in order to more completely align their bodies and—

Hot.

He could feel the heat of her womanhood, even in the jungle’s steamy atmosphere, press against his pulsing dick, and all rational thought flew from his head. In one quick move, he turned and lifted her until she was sitting on the dirt bike’s torn, leather seat, grabbing her behind the knees and jerking her toward him even as he stepped forward, wrapping her thighs around his hips. He seated himself at the apex of her legs, reveling in the warm welcome he received.

And,
oh
Lordy
, he knew he should use more finesse. After all, this was what she was going to remember about him for the rest of her life. And he wanted it to be a memory she’d take out and savor, like a fine piece of dark chocolate, all smooth and rich and wonderful. But his suave Southern charm eluded him, and all he could seem to evoke was Genghis Khan. He was overcome with the intense desire to pillage, conquer, claim…
mark?

Oui
, mark. He wanted to imprint himself on her heart, on her soul. And he realized how unfair that was, realized the last thing he should want was to leave an indelible impression on her psyche, because he knew she was already halfway to falling in…maybe not love, but it was something very close to that emotion—a second cousin, if you will—with him. But, bastard that he was, he couldn’t help himself. This was the last woman he’d ever know, the only woman who’d ever made him wish things could be different, and was it too much to ask that she look back on this, on
him
, fondly?

No. It wasn’t. But if he wanted all of that, he needed to take it down a notch. Do her really right. She’d undoubtedly had her fair share of fervent groping and tactless fondling. Beautiful women like her always did. So, if he was determined to give her something to remember, something to
really
remember, he needed to
sloooowwww
it way down.

“What’s wrong?” Vanessa whispered when she felt Rock pull back, when his frenzied hands stopped running all over her body like he was trying to memorize each one of her curves.

“Nothin’ in the world,
chere
,” he assured her in a low, delicious rumble, skating his lips across her cheek and down to her throat. At her pulse point, he stopped and sucked, and she could swear she felt it right between her legs, right where he was throbbing against her. “I just want to savor this. Don’t you?”

Savor. Yeah. She could totally go for some savoring. Of course, she’d savor it more if his pants were undone, if she could feel him in her hands, so hard and smooth, so much a man…

“Yes,” she breathed in his ear, delighted when she felt a harsh shiver cascade through his big body.

Sooo, Rock has sensitive ears, does he?

She gently bit on his lobe, sucking it between her lips, laving it delicately with the tip of her tongue. He groaned, the sound equal parts torture and rapture.

Yep, sensitive ears…

She blew softly, nibbled lightly, and was rewarded when he once more grabbed her ass, grinding his erection against her. Rubbing her just right. And she couldn’t help but think,
if
we
weren’t wearing clothes, he’d be in me right now. Hot and throbbing and thrusting…

And, yeah, she knew he’d said all he wanted was a kiss, but it had already gone
well
beyond the simple stage of kissing. And if he was determined this would be the one and only time he dropped his guard, the one and only time he allowed himself to give in to his lust, then, by God, she was going to take it as far as she could.

All the friggin’ way, if he’d let her. Because she
loved
him, and after he found out what she’d just done, she was pretty sure—probably close to 100 percent certain, as a matter of fact—he’d never allow himself this chance again. Very likely wouldn’t
want
this chance again. You know…given he was going to hate her…

She pushed the thought aside, knowing there was no undoing what’d been done, so there was no use worrying about it now. Especially not when he was in the process of granting her most fervent wish. Not when she was poised to do the one thing she’d dreamed of doing since the first day she walked through the doors of Black Knights Inc.

His mouth returned to hers, his male lips, so plump and firm, so knowledgeable. Yes, she’d always known Rock would be a good kisser. With a mouth like his, how could he not be? But even though she’d gotten a taste of his skill last night, she was still taken aback by his technique. Like the way he sucked her bottom lip between his teeth in order to bite down gently, or the way he filled her mouth with his tongue, coaxing her to follow suit and then, when she did, the way he softly sucked until she could feel each pull low in her belly, making her moan and writhe and ache.

Everything a woman dreamed of when she dreamed of kissing, Rock did. And it didn’t feel contrived or intentional. It just felt sensuous, like he instinctively knew what was good, what it took to make a woman burn.

And, baby, was she ever burning. The air in her lungs was a gasoline fire; the blood in her veins blazing so hot that every inch of her skin was ultra-sensitized. Each of her nerve endings was exposed, and everywhere they touched felt like coming into contact with an open flame…

She wanted more. More of him. More of this. Just more, more,
more…

As their mouths tasted and their tongues mated, she scooted back just a fraction of an inch. Snaking an eager hand between their bodies, she unhooked his gear belt and barely registered the fact that it fell to the ground at his feet because she was too busy reaching for the button at the top of his fly. She smiled against his lips when it popped open without much effort. His zipper was next, and the metal teeth
scriiiiitching
against one another was some of the sweetest music she’d ever heard. And then she delved her hand inside and…

Whoa.

She wasn’t surprised to find him hard and hot. She’d known he’d be both of those things. But she was taken aback by his thickness, by the feel of the large vein pulsing against her palm and, suddenly, she had to see, had to look…

She pulled back and ducked her chin, sucking in a heated breath when she saw him spearing unrepentantly from the V of his cargo pants. He was so rigid, standing almost vertical. So engorged, the skin of him almost purple. His plump, weeping head stared at her defiantly and she’d have reached for the snap on her own pants, thinking only of impaling herself on all that unapologetic maleness, had Rock not started working the buttons on her shirt, distracting her.

She watched as he slipped undone one button, then another and another. He had such wonderfully dependable-looking hands. Broad and tan, with artistically long fingers. It was hard to imagine those hands had caused that CIA agent to squeal like a little girl, but she knew they had. And she also knew they were minutes away from giving her intense, unspeakable pleasure…

A shiver of anticipation slipped up her spine as he pushed the last button through its hole, finally spreading the halves of her safari shirt wide. She lamented the fact that there wasn’t a red lace bra to meet his penetrating gaze, because there was absolutely nothing sexy about the Ace bandage wrapped around her chest, smashing her breasts flat.

“Sorry,” she breathed, licking suddenly dry lips, her hand stilling against him.

“For what,
chere
?” he glanced up at her, his multifaceted eyes glowing in the dimness of the shade, his head cocked.

“For…for not having on sexy lingerie, I guess,” she shrugged, abashed and at the same time so horny she could barely stand herself. And speaking of…

She moved her hand up his length and watched, fascinated, as he caught his lower lip between his square, white teeth, sucking in a startled breath, but never dropping her gaze.

It was erotic as hell, seeing the emotions play across his usually stoic face, getting a glimpse of the pleasure she was giving him, watching as a wave of bliss tripped up his spine, causing him to shudder, making him pulse heavily in her hand.

But just when she was about to get into a rhythm, he grabbed her wrist, gently removing her fingers. She frowned when she realized he was forcing her to stop, and a small grin played at his mouth as he leaned forward to nip at her pouting lower lip. Then
she
was the one sucking in a startled breath, because he manacled both of her wrists behind her back with one hand as he used the other to reach into the sheath clipped to his loosened waistband, pulling out that 10-inch Bowie knife.

The breath sawed from her lungs when the tip of the ultra-sharp blade slipped beneath the bottom edge of the Ace bandage. He was still watching her, keeping her a prisoner of his gaze. And, in response, her heart beat hungrily, pounding out a rhythm that echoed down the entire length of her body.

“Hold still,” he told her, eyes locked with hers and sparkling with dark secrets. They were the secrets of a man who’d made it his business to know what a woman wanted…

She ground her teeth together, not daring to breathe, barely daring to move, as that blade slowly, ever so maddeningly slowly slipped up the wrappings, slicing through them like they were nothing. And only after the last binding slipped free and fell to the side did he drop his gaze in order to look down at what he’d uncovered.

She thought she saw his pupils dilate. Thought she saw him rake in a ragged breath. Then, “
Tu
es
tellement
beau
,” he whispered, his voice no more than a low rumble in his wide chest.

You
are
so
beautiful.
That’s what he said. And when she saw the heat in his eyes, caught the rapid tick of the heavy muscle in his square jaw, she
felt
beautiful. Even sweaty and bedraggled, hair all messy and without a stitch of makeup, when she looked at Rock looking at her with a sort of reverent awe, she felt like the most beautiful woman in the world…

“Touch me,” she pleaded, closing her eyes, letting her head fall back on her neck…

***

“
Parfait
,” Rock whispered, telling Vanessa she was perfect in his first language as he reached forward with one finger to touch the tip of an exquisitely formed breast. He swallowed, the brainless wonder jumping in the V of his undone pants when her nipple hardened to a little nub on contact.

As Ozzie would say, she was five feet, five inches of
boom
and
pow
. She had it all, a fine ass, flawless breasts that were neither too big nor too small, and a tiny little waist that was the perfect fit for a man’s hands.

Oui
, she had it all. And it was all explosive. To a man’s senses, that is.

And that was before he got to her nipples…

Whowee
, he reckoned she had the most delicious nipples on the planet. Round and brown and a little bit puffy, just like he liked, standing out slightly from the rest of her breast. And he would bet his daddy’s old ’coon-skinning knife that she tasted as good as she looked.

Leaning forward, cupping her breast in his palm, lifting it like an offering even as he ran the rough pad of his thumb over her nipple just to see it tighten more, he sucked it into his mouth. She was salty and sweet. He could taste the sweat on her skin, but beneath that was the minty lotion she used.

Yep, just as he’d thought. Delicious.

Vanessa moaned as she worked one hand free from his grip in order to palm the back of his head and press him more tightly against her. Her heels dug in just above his butt as she pulled him close, the material of her cargo pants hot and damp and—

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!
Damp!

The woman was wet clean through her pants. And that was it. The momentary control he’d managed to wrangle suddenly snapped, and all the gentleness he’d forced on himself was gone in an instant. He sucked at her breast, flicking his tongue fast and hard, feeling her breath hitch even as a slow keening whine sounded in the back of her throat.

It was a plea. A sweet, feminine entreaty for more.

And,
oui
, you better believe he was going to give it to her.

Snaking a hand between their bodies, he managed to unsnap her fly and slide her zipper down. Then he delved inside and realized why she was damp clean through her pants.

The woman wasn’t wearing any underwear.

He pulled back, grumbling with delight when her nipple popped free of his mouth, all wet and shiny and begging for more kisses.

I’ll come back to you,
he promised before looking up to find Vanessa watching him with that particular look a woman gets when she knows she’s got a man eating of her hands, when she knows she has him just where she wants him because he’s stopped thinking with that round thing on his shoulders and has started thinking with that hard thing between his legs.

“You’re not wearin’ any panties,” he murmured, his fingers finding nothing but smooth, wet flesh.

Apparently, Vanessa shaved. Everything.

Mon
dieu
. How the hell was he supposed to keep his head about him, make this all for her, when she was both pantyless and hairless? Had she intentionally come to the jungle to drive him crazy? Or…get him killed? Because he’d certainly lost track of time—it could’ve been minutes or hours since they’d started this—and that was oh-so dangerous.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to make himself care. All he knew was that there was no stopping now.

“They chafe in this humidity,” she breathed, even as she worked her second hand free from his grasp in order to reach down and grab him. She wasn’t shy about it either. She clamped on and started stroking him in a firm, fast rhythm that had his eyes threatening to roll back in his head.

Since he figured turnabout was fair play, and since it was either get going on her or he was going to make a big ol’ fool of himself by popping off like a pubescent boy, he slammed his lips over the top of hers and sucked her tongue into his mouth at the same time he slid a finger inside her.

Damn, she was tight. Smooth as satin, hot as sin, and oh-oh-
oh
so wet.

“More,” she demanded against his lips.

He aimed to please, so he worked a second finger inside of her and was rewarded when she tightened around him, squeezing gently, giving him an idea of what kind of heaven he’d find if he used his knife to slice off her pants, if he took a step forward and spread her wide, if he pushed himself…

But he wasn’t going there.

Oh, no.

He may have made the decision to take a taste of what she was offering since it was likely going to be his last meal, but he was damned well going to stop before the main course. Because he knew she had feelings for him, and he knew she talked big about not thinking he’d be taking advantage of her if he…well…fucked the shit out of her like he wanted to. But the truth of the matter was, despite her bravado and protestations to the contrary, Vanessa Cordero was a bleeding heart romantic. And if he let this thing between them reach the pinnacle of physicality, he knew she’d regret it.

She’d regret it when she realized he wasn’t lying about keeping his emotions locked away. She’d regret it when she knew he really wasn’t coming back for her no matter what. And, she’d definitely regret it once he was dead and buried and there’d be no way for her to salvage her pride and tell him off for the previous two infractions.

So he’d offer her what he could, and take from her what he felt she could afford to give without suffering any self-recrimination, and he’d hold what they shared in—maybe not his heart; he was making damn sure to keep that particular organ out of the equation—but, perhaps, his soul.
Oui,
somewhere safe. Somewhere where he could take it out and cherish it when the end was near.