“Then why do I feel like such a failure?” She blinked back the tears and drew the stiff quilted bedspread around her legs. “I love my job. I love serving my country, but…”
“Hey, now, stop.” He grabbed her shoulders, his strength so welcome especially now when she was falling apart. “This is adrenaline letdown talking. It’s been one of those razor’s edge days. Hell, my heart is about to pound out of my chest too.”
The tears burned hotter and fuller. “I think I’m done, Jose. The life of a field operative is short for a reason and I’m afraid I’ve pushed the odds to the limit with this mission.”
She needed objectivity and she didn’t have it. She couldn’t live with the fear that she’d begun losing it after the split with Jose, because that would mean she’d been doing her job at half speed, compromising the integrity of her work. Jose started to interrupt, but she needed to talk this through. To get it all out there.
“I’m ready to move onto another phase of my career working for Interpol… or maybe I’ll transfer to a CIA or FBI office.” The plan came together, making sense. “Only a small fraction of us do wet work in the field like this. I’m done, damn it. I’m done.”
“You say that like you’re serious.”
“Because I am.” She stroked her hand over his hair that had dried sticking up in places from a decontamination shower. “I also understand you’re not ready to dry off your feet. Maybe you never will be.”
He scowled. “Are you booting me out?”
She didn’t know what she was doing other than lashing out, the pain inside her expanding until she had to have relief. “I’m starting to really understand now. You never wanted this to work between us, not really.”
“I offered to marry you.”
“Offered?” Her eyebrows shot up along with her blood pressure. “Offered? Actually, the way I remember it, I proposed to you. But hey, let’s not quibble when you were so generous. Other than the fact I want kids and you won’t even consider it.”
“And I want this f**king genetic curse to end with me,” he snapped, his patience visibly fraying.
Of course he had almost been taken out by a horrific weapon of mass destruction. But the day had hardly been a picnic for her either. The fury inside her roared louder. “Then adopt.”
“I swear to God, if you recite another study about the power of believing in yourself, I’m going to lose it. Damn it, you know what happened with my sister, to my nephew…”
Oh God, what was she doing here? Her anger deflated in a flash as she thought about the night he’d told her about his nephew, about the horrific accident. “Shhh… Shhh.” She leaned forward on her knees, her fingers over his lips. “You’re right. Let’s not talk about that. I don’t want to hurt you, and heaven knows I don’t want to fight with you. It makes me get too fired up and the last thing I need to be right now is emotional around you.”
He grasped her hand, gripping a hint too tightly, and kissed her fist, hard. The ache in her chest pushed the tears the rest of the way free, in big gulping sobs. Jose hauled her to his chest and she let the tears flow out, along with so many tangled emotions. The horror of a cruel world. The betrayal by her mother. The fear of losing Jose.
She was through. Through chasing ghosts. Through believing in dreams or even hoping for the future. She wasn’t going to die in some godforsaken country alone, like her mom, without ever really connecting with anyone in order to keep the job safe. Anonymous.
Screw. That.
She wasn’t going to be another statistic spit out by a code-breaking program—a name with no real roots. She wasn’t sacrificing the chance at a real family to the almighty job.
Gasping, she gripped Jose’s shoulders tighter, her nails digging deep as she soaked his shirt with her pain. She hurt so damn bad and right now his arms were the only thing keeping her from shattering altogether.
His hands soothed along her spine, her braid brushing his wrists. He tugged the band loose and threaded his fingers through, loosening the thick mass, massaging her scalp. Her body melted into his. The sharp edge of her pain found another channel, another outlet.
Desire.
***
Jose felt the sensual shift in her, and God, he wanted her too. Always.
But he wasn’t so sure this was the right time or the right reason. “Stella, you’re…”
“Damn it, Jose.” She angled back to stare at him, her chest heaving. “Don’t tell me about adrenaline letdown or misplaced emotions. I do the same kind of work you do. I’ve been to all the same training and psych briefings. I get it. And I don’t care. I need this. I need you.”
She grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and yanked it upward, pressing her mouth to his heartbeat. He’d always taken such care with her, working his ass off to give her all the romance, finesse—hell, foreplay—that he could muster without losing complete control of himself.
Right now, control was tougher than ever to find. He’d been through hell today too. Not because he’d feared dying, but because he’d been scared as hell he might not make it in time to save Stella. So damn all the reasons why this was a bad, bad idea.
They were here, together, alive, and they both needed this. They needed each other.
Stella nipped his earlobe. Hard. “You’re falling behind here. Help me undress.”
She’d already gotten his shirt off and was well on her way to tugging down his camo pants. Blood slugged through his veins, surging below his belt. Stella’s touch, her words, the woman herself set him on fire. He peeled her tunic away and worked her jeans free, until they kicked the pants over near their shoes by the door. Her hands stroked his body with the familiarity of a lover, lower, cradling him. He gritted his teeth to fight back the urge to come in her hand.
Then she knelt and took him in her mouth. He palmed the wall to keep from falling. The sweep of her tongue, the moist warmth. His head fell back and he was a second away from losing total control. His hands fell to her shoulders.
Hauling her up again, he sealed their lips and their bodies, falling onto the bed. They rolled as dominance flipped back and forth between them until he pinned her, kissed his way down her neck, along her shoulder to the curve of her breast. He captured her nipple between his teeth, teasing, flicking with his tongue until she squirmed beneath, her breathy moans demanding more. He was more than willing to deliver. He reached to the bedside table and grabbed the water bottle.
Trickle by trickle, he dribbled water between her breasts. She gasped as the first droplets hit her. She hissed as he sipped them. He took that as a yes to keep right on going, down her stomach, between her legs, tasting until the bottle was empty. He flung it away and kept right on pleasuring her, which pleasured him.
She gripped his shoulders, tugged at his hair, her hands frantic until he slid up over her. Into her. And while he’d enjoyed the hell out of their all night lovemaking in the past, he already knew this was going to be hard and fast. He could barely hold onto his control now with the warm, moist clamp of her drawing him in deeper. Her legs locked around his waist and she moved with him, her eyes open and telling him she was right there with him, so close to the edge on a day that had brought them both to the brink of a cliff.
The spread and top sheet tangled in his feet, and he kicked them to the floor. Her hands flung back and she grabbed the headboard, arching up to him, crying out as she milked every last pulse from her orgasm. Watching the flush spread up her chest, goose bumps prickling along her flesh, sent a primal wave of satisfaction through him. His hands gripped over hers as he finished and knew he was only one thrust away from jetting his release hot and deep inside her.
And in the most insane thought of his already screwed up life, he imagined filling her with his baby. A growl of denial followed close on the heels of that thought. Even knowing about her birth control implant, he couldn’t stop himself.
He pulled out.
Collapsing on top of her, his release throbbing between them, he buried his face in her neck. But he couldn’t hide from himself or the knowledge that he wanted to give her more. He wanted to give her everything.
***
Stella curled up in the armchair, her head against the windowpane as she looked out at the road below, dark other than streetlamps and passing cars. The airport lights blinked two blocks away where the investigation would continue without her. Cop cars were parked at every corner, no doubt a by-product of the near miss with a deadly nerve toxin less than twenty-four hours ago.
She wrapped a kanga around her like a thin blanket, a benign cloth of blues and greens with a message along the border that probably said something like live long and prosper. Jose had bought it for her a month ago when they’d snuck away to Kenya for a weekend. Their last weekend together before she’d gone undercover with the students.
God, so much had happened since that memorable, heartbreaking night. Yet it still felt like she’d packed a lifetime of stress into this day.
Her nerves were ragged, totally shot in more ways than one. Apparently all that happened hadn’t left Jose unmarked either. She’d sensed an edge to him, a desperation even when they’d been together.
They’d had sex three times tonight. Sex. Not making love. She knew the difference. But that’s what she’d asked for from him in bed. In the shower. Then on the dresser as they’d made their way back into the room before collapsing on the mattress, exhausted enough to sleep through the demons that would haunt their dreams.
He slept still, sprawled out with the sheet twisted around his waist. Turning away from the heart-tugging sight of him, she drew the coarse cloth tighter around her, watching the lights blink—still all too aware of the man sleeping just a few feet away. Could she walk away from Jose a second time?
He had damn good reasons for his fears about a commitment, about building a family together. A part of her whispered that she should just give in, take what he offered and be grateful.
Her fists tightened until her fingernails poked holes in the fabric. Damn it, Jose was breaking her heart all over again, just like he’d done a month ago…
***
“Any idea how long you’ll be undercover as a student?”
“Not a clue.” Stella looped the blue and green sarong around her again and again, checking in the mirror to make sure she got it just right. She spun back to face Jose. “And if I did know and I told you, then I would have to kill you.”
“That’s supposed to be my line.” He slipped his hands under the edge of the kanga he’d just bought for her from a street vendor.
The Kenyan bed and breakfast by the ocean was a little hokey with its over-the-top safari room. But she enjoyed it all the same—from the zebra skin rug to the mosquito netting around the bed. Even the carved wood animals with a gloss perfection that hinted they might just well say “Made in China” on the bottom.
They had one weekend left before finally she had her chance to blend in with a group of foreign exchange students doing a work study in an area known for recruiting new foot soldiers for anarchy. Jose’s stint in Africa dealing with the pirate issue was nearly over, a new team stepping in for the next rotation. By the time she finished her assignment, he would have returned to the States.
And then? They’d both said the big “love” word and maybe it was too early to talk marriage, but was she crazy to want reassurance before they said good-bye?
He hauled her closer, guiding her with him as he backed toward the bed, shouldering through the mosquito netting.
She batted his hands away, plastering a playful smile on her face. “You’re bad.”
“Not as bad as I want us to be.” He tugged again, toppling her onto the bed with him. “Unwrapping you plays a part in more than one of my fantasies.”
