Countdown to Zero Hour

by Nico Rosso

  He feigned innocence. “I’m just trying to get some cash to buy sodas from that cart.” The street vendor was between them and the hotel.

  “Is this the cash?” Her fingers moved along his pelvis, over the top of his thigh. “Or this?” She did feel the money but passed it so she could brush the side of his hardening cock. “I think I found it.”

  “Yeah. That’s it.” He swiveled to press his length into her touch.

  Before they made a scene on the corner, she retrieved the money and stood back to catch her breath.

  He angled his pelvis to adjust.

  “You hard?” she teased quietly.

  “You wet?”

  Just watching his mouth saying the word pushed a tremble down between her legs.

  She couldn’t answer his question without moaning.

  Nodding slowly, he walked up the side street toward the hotel. He paused at the street vendor to get four sweating bottles of cold fruit soda, and she paid the man from the wad of pesos that were still hot from Art’s pocket.

  The man kept throwing them curious looks from beneath the brim of his straw hat until they moved off to the hotel.

  Limp air-conditioning in the dark lobby helped Hayley breathe again. Art did all the talking at the front desk, where the middle-aged woman pulled a key and waited for payment. Art told Hayley what they owed, and she handed it over.

  “Gracias.” The woman made the money disappear quickly and slid the key across the desk without any judgment in her eyes. Long black hair framed her wise face. “Tres, cero, tres.”

  The brass fob on the key was hand-stamped with the numbers 303.

  “No elevator.” Art tipped his head toward a wide set of stairs that climbed out of the back corner of the lobby.

  Fans blew on every landing, swirling the heat. Sweat dripped down the small of her back and soaked into her shirt by the time they reached the third floor. The room was thankfully close to the stairs.

  She threw the heavy lock and opened the door. Inside, a small air conditioner made a set of gauzy curtains dance lazily. Gold light bounced off the simple bed and dresser. She and Art entered and put their bags down on a table in a corner. He immediately returned to the door, locking it and placing the lone chair in the room under the handle.

  He took off his jacket and tossed it on top of the dresser. Sweat on his shirt defined the lines of his chest and upper arms. He dug through the produce bags until he found two of the soda bottles. Quickly popping the tops on the edge of the table, he handed her one and held out the other for a toast.

  After a short deliberation, he toasted, “This room is ours.”

  “Ours.” She clinked her bottle’s neck on his. Their gaze didn’t break while they drank the cool, sweet soda. The tart orange cut through her thirst. Other needs pulled stronger. The tremors continued deep in her, sensitive. She placed her drink on the table and approached Art.

  His bottle joined hers, then his hands were free to smooth through her hair and tilt her head back. Hot sugar skimmed across their lips. His tongue found hers. More sweat covered her. More moisture collected between her legs.

  The room was theirs. Time wasn’t. She needed him now.

  * * *

  Art burned himself on Hayley. He gripped her slick, strong arms, pulled her close so he could lick at the salty sweat on the side of her neck. Her moan brushed his throat, followed by her fingers. She caressed him, then tugged his shirt collar down so she could kiss his chest.

  The room was as secure as possible. They’d be expected back before long, and the mission and the clock would continue. He wanted weeks with her and had only minutes. But each second was absorbed slowly as he welded it to his memory.

  He took a step back to undo his belt and remove his weapons while she sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing the sheets with her palms. His pistol and knives were placed within reach, each in a different area depending on where a threat might intrude.

  When he started to take off his shirt, she held up a hand.

  “Take your time.” She leaned back on her elbows, watching from beneath heavy eyelids.

  He reached back and eased his shirt over his head. “I’ve never stripped for someone before.”

  “You’re not stripping.” Her eyes moved over his arms, his chest. “You’re getting naked.”

  Seemed like the same thing. He undid his pants and stopped. Each of his tattoos was examined by her slow gaze. She looked at his scars, too, eyes squinting, trying to determine the cause. He turned, revealing the tattoos and marks of history on his back. And he understood what naked meant.

  He didn’t hide from her.

  “I’ll tell you all their stories.” He rubbed at the scars on his left shoulder, remembering the bloody pain. “Another time.”

  She smiled wistfully. “I’ll trade you my stories.”

  “And pour the tequila.” Another night that might never be.

  “But for now...” Hayley signaled down with her finger. “The pants.”

  She brought them back into the now. Art didn’t want to keep her waiting. He pulled off his boots and socks, then eased his jeans down. Once he stepped out of them, he was nude except for his boxer briefs.

  He did another slow turn for her. There were scars on his legs and a couple of tattoos for her to examine. Her gaze rose to his. She curled her fingers, gesturing him forward. He was in her grip, moved by her smallest motion. She didn’t even touch him, and his pulse thumped harder.

  She remained on the bed, and he stepped to her. Her fingertips traced his tattoos and skimmed around the perimeter of his scars. The gentle contact woke up old nerves, those that had been dulled by pain, and now they tingled with new awareness. He smoothed his hand over her hair and closed his eyes to savor the quiet attention.

  When she tugged at his waistband, his eyes snapped back open to see her lean forward and kiss his stomach. She dragged his briefs down farther, moving her lips along the exposed flesh.

  He shivered in the heat, anticipation growing. She got his underwear all the way down, freeing his cock. Her steady breath breezed across his erection. Everything she did moved him.

  His knees almost buckled when she wrapped her fingers around his length. Slow strokes glided up and down him. She looked up, catching his gaze and revealing the wicked light in her eyes. He snarled back at her with the same raw intentions.

  Her grip became firmer as she brought him closer. He stepped out of his underwear. The fact that she was fully clothed made his nakedness even starker. But hunger on her face was unguarded and let him know he was protected because they were both exposed.

  She licked her lips. He was hers for the taking. She licked the underside of the head of his cock, and he lost his breath.

  Her lips kissed along the edge of his length. She opened her mouth and took him in. He had to close his eyes to completely concentrate on the hot, wet feel of her around him. Her hand stroked him and her mouth began to move.

  He opened his eyes to see himself disappear through her lips as she sucked him deeper and deeper. Her free hand ventured up his thigh and caressed down his belly. All the fires she lit in him joined into a steady blaze. The burn wasn’t enough. He started moving his hips, testing how he and she fit together. She moved down his cock and he pressed forward. She encouraged him, holding his hip and guiding him closer.

  Her fingers and lips continued to stroke up and back around him. He pumped in and out of her mouth, his pulse charging harder. His moans bounced off the plaster walls. Her sounds of pleasure vibrated up his cock and shook him completely.

  It was almost agony to feel this good. The danger always came back. There was no safety. Walking away after their first time together was probably the right thing to do. But impossible. Their possibilities wound them back together again. This was theirs. No one could
take it away.

  His hand clutched hers on his hip. Raking his fingers through her hair, feeling the back of her neck, holding her shoulder, he collected more of her around him.

  She took him from her mouth and ran her fingernails lightly down his shaft. “You don’t taste like peaches.” Her raspy voice stroked over him.

  He reached down and helped her out of her T-shirt. “What do I taste like?”

  Arching her back in a languid stretch, she undid her bra and removed it. Thoughtful, her head tilted to one side. He took in the curves of her flesh, the artful tattoos, the rosy nipples hard at the ends of her breasts. And her moist lips, smiling.

  She said, “Cumin.” And she brought him forward again with her hands on the sides of his thighs, then on his ass. “Turmeric.” She kissed the side of his cock, took it in her mouth, then released it before he had a chance to ease deeper into her. “Mesquite.”

  Seeing himself in her hands, along her lips, was almost enough to make him come.

  Before she could draw him into her again, he leaned down and claimed her mouth in a kiss. She stood and held herself to him, skin against skin. Her breasts were soft. Her muscles were hard. He ran his hands up her naked back, and she sighed, murmuring things he couldn’t understand.

  “I have to undress you,” he said, turning them so the bed was now behind him.

  He sat and urged her toward him with his hands on her hips. She quickly removed her shoes and socks. Undoing the button of her jeans was like taking the first bite of her food. The zipper dragged down tooth by tooth so he could take in every second of this experience.

  She wiggled to help him remove her jeans. Sleek and simple black panties stood out on her pale skin. His dark hands also contrasted against her when he hooked his fingers in the flimsy underwear.

  He stared up at her and she back at him. Trust balanced between them, allowing the hunger to take over. Pulling slightly on her panties, he walked her closer to him. She rubbed her hands over his head while he kissed her ribs and smooth belly. The desert dust had found her skin, as well as the flavor of her floral soap. Her fingernails raked his scalp then dug into his neck. He dragged her panties down.

  Taking his time, he felt every curve and turn of her legs along the way back up. Her eyes were closed and her head tilted back slightly. She steadied herself with her hands on his shoulders when he ventured to the silk between her thighs. He climbed higher and higher, rewarded by her delicious little moans.

  The heat from her body consumed him. She was an oasis of fire in the desert. And she was wet. His fingers stroked along the edge of her pussy, finding her moisture and making her lean harder on him.

  She rocked slowly and drew the edge of his hand along her lips. His knuckle rubbed her clit, and she froze for a second, shivered, then started again. They sped up, and her breath rushed faster. He wrapped his arm around the small of her back, supporting her, giving her something to hold while her body bucked.

  But he needed more of her. He moved his hand from her, and she protested with huffed breaths. His answer was to place his hands on her waist and turn her so she faced away from him. Coiling his arms around her chest, he brought her down to sit on his lap.

  Their bodies lined up; he adjusted so his cock slid up between her legs without entering her. Her unbelievably smooth thighs surrounded him. She leaned her head back and turned so he could kiss her. Their mouths were joined and he breathed her in.

  And he swallowed her moans while he palmed her breast and thrust with his hips. His cock ground up and back along her pussy. She gripped his thigh with one hand and used the other to press his length harder along her.

  He was wet from her, slipping back and forth. Her ass moved on his lap and lower belly. The back of her neck was salty with sweat, and he licked it up. She rasped a quick breath when he bit lightly into her shoulder.

  Her moans grew louder when he reached around her and rolled one of her tight nipples between his fingers. She dug her fingernails into his thigh. He pinched her nipple harder, and she arched her back.

  Their skin was so hot he didn’t know where she ended and he began. Teeth clashed, mouths open. Their tongues teased and searched each other.

  Between rushed breaths, she said, “I...need you...in me...”

  He stood and brought her with him. Keeping one arm around her, he stretched to where his jacket hung on the chair and searched the inside pocket for a condom. Their bodies parted for only the shortest possible time when he put it on.

  The urgency of her words still shot through him. He turned her away from him, and she understood, leaning down so her hands rested on the mattress. Moving behind her, he ran his hands down her ribs, around her waist. She arched her back, and he gripped her hips.

  Because she was shorter than him, he coiled his body lower, bending his legs so the tip of his cock could slick at her wet opening. Anticipation grew, and he savored the hunger. She hummed approval and tightened her fists in the bedsheets.

  He entered her, warmth surrounding him. He eased deeper, she pushed back, taking him all the way in. Then she swiveled her ass, tight moves that pumped his cock back and forth within her and made bigger shock waves up through him.

  The pace started to speed. Her moans rushed. He reached down between her legs and circled her clit with the tip of his finger. She bucked and slammed harder. He met her, thrusting as their voices joined.

  She pulled the sheets off the mattress. Her legs shook. She tilted her head up and stared back at him, lips parted, eyes heavy lidded. With an almost surprised gasp, she closed her eyes and leaned back, her body locked to his.

  Her climax shuddered through her, and he supported her with her back to his chest. And when her legs felt like they were giving out, he helped her to the bed and sat on the edge next to her.

  She smiled, breath rushing, and climbed onto his lap, facing him and twining her legs around his waist.

  “You’re...relentless.” His own blood was rushing.

  “I’m taking...what I want.” She reached back and held his cock to guide it into her. She spoke through her teeth in his shoulder. “When I want.”

  The when was now. He knew that. Only a few moments. Safe and stolen.

  Hayley lowered herself onto him. They coiled their arms around each other. He protected her, and she protected him. They clutched those rushing seconds tightly, contained within their circle.

  She arched and he ground with her. Her breasts rubbed on his chest. Her breath heated his neck. Each of her moans moved him. He joined them with his, not caring if they shook the bed, the walls, the whole damn town.

  Her rhythm sped; she widened her legs to take him deeper. He thrust harder when their bodies slammed together.

  “Coming... I’m coming,” she chopped out between breathy moans.

  “Yes.” He held her stronger, wanting to feel her climax all around him. “Yes.”

  “Come with me,” she demanded. “I need you with me.” She kissed his mouth and jaw and neck. “I need you with me.”

  “I’m yours,” he answered, then ran out of words.

  She called out and curled her arms tighter around him. He thrust up one last time and released himself completely with her. They both shook and shuddered, searched for breath and searched each other’s body for places to hold.

  They eased themselves down onto the bed. Their legs untangled and he pulled out from inside her, but they remained as close as possible. She rested her head on his arm, and he curled it around her back. They hoarded the heat of their bodies, keeping it between them and away from the deadly cold reality that was always just inches away.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The thin curtains glowed white-hot. Hayley may have slept. Or just slipped into her mind as her body lay satisfied next to Art. She’d thought about the produce in her bags and what t
o do with it. The beautiful tomatoes. And Mary, the woman behind them with the sniper’s eyes.

  The room’s atmosphere turned sere with the desert; Hayley pulled herself closer to Art. Their sweat ran between their skin, joining them. His breath was slow and steady, but he didn’t sleep. His eyes were open and he’d look at her and smile for a moment before glancing about the space, the windows and door and corners where the walls met the ceiling. There was always a plan in him, a motion. Escape? Attack? She imagined he strategized for whatever might happen next. He knew that world, could anticipate it. Hopefully he was prepared, because all she could do was keep reminding herself not to let her guard down.

  With Art, though, she was out of defenses. When she’d thought he was a crook, she’d had ammunition against the attraction that bound them together. Now that she knew his true purpose, she wasn’t able to fight the connection. And she didn’t want to. His caring went beyond the mission. Their need for each other was clear and hungry and devastating and deeper than she’d imagined.

  That was what scared her. A fight to the death was coming. Would he be hurt? Was he compromised because he had to protect her?

  Art took a long breath, his body shifting the sheets and mattress around her, and got up from the bed. He returned with the remaining two sodas. Condensation dripped from the glass. They’d been sitting in front of the air conditioner, but that hadn’t kept them very cold.

  Still, she drank, welcoming the sweet liquid and the sight of Art, naked with the soda in his hand, in the bright sunlight.

  He swallowed and thought and swallowed again. “Maybe that’s why my mom doesn’t keep these in the fridge at home.”

  “Why’s that?” Her voice was hoarse, despite the drink.

  “Reminds me of my dad.” He spent more time looking at the glowing orange liquid than sipping it. “We lost him when I was young.”

  She caressed his back. “I’m sorry.” He leaned into her touch, and she continued. “But I’ve got to think that any father would be proud of a son in the Marines, then working for secret operators protecting people.”