by Alta Hensley
“You are just… loco,” she said. He grinned as she took a wide berth around him. Yes, he definitely had his job cut out for him. In his opinion, if they were stuck in the middle of the jungle for a while, he’d use every second of that time assuring her that she belonged to him. And she was right. He was crazy… crazy for Natalia Alvarez.
It didn’t take long to ascertain that the bedrooms had fared worse than the front of the house. When Anson saw an actual bunch of bananas hanging from a tree limb that had pushed through the window years earlier, he chuckled. “At least we’ve won’t have to go far for breakfast.”
The second bedroom was missing part of the ceiling, a third had some sort of funky odor which told of it being some animal’s den at some point, though thankfully, there was no fresh evidence of a recent occupant.
“I’m afraid we’re running out of options,” Natalia said when Anson shut that door as quickly as possible. “I knew it wouldn’t be perfect, but I never imagined it to have deteriorated so quickly.”
Anson could hear the disappointment in her voice. “Hey, we’re going to be fine. I’ve stayed in far worse places. The important thing is that we are together and safe. Anything else is just a bonus.” When she rolled her eyes yet again, he lifted his hand and took her chin between his fingers, keeping her gaze on him. He watched as her eyes widened, pleased that she didn’t immediately attempt to pull away. Bending forward, he pressed his lips to the tip of her nose, startling her once again, but she still didn’t physically react though they both knew he wasn’t in any condition to truly overtake her… yet. He gave her another moment before releasing her.
“You… you are serious, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice a bare whisper.
“As a heart attack,” he answered casually. “I don’t say things I don’t mean. Now, how about we figure out what we must have to make our stay as comfy as possible? Then we’ll go down to the river and get some water before it gets too dark. After a good night’s sleep, we’ll feel better tomorrow. How does that sound?”
She hesitated but then grinned. “Better than a spanking.” Anson had no choice but to smile and give her credit. This was one woman who was quite capable of sassy, snarky banter. He couldn’t wait until there was quite a different sort of conversation shared between them. One that had him giving her soft instructions to come for him as he guided her to pleasure that would render them both speechless.
Anson sat on a log, admiring the view. Though he occasionally forced his eyes to scan the surrounding jungle for any signs of impending danger, his gaze always returned to the sight in front of him. Before they’d come outside, he’d spent an hour watching Natalia as she bustled about, checking each chair carefully, both its surface and beneath it before touching the furniture. Another two spiders had met their deaths… one beneath his boot, and another wallop of the spoon sent the other to spider heaven before she was satisfied that the area was bug free. When they began to drag what she’d decided was the best of the mattresses from the fourth bedroom to dump it in the middle of the living room, he’d been unable to squelch a soft groan. She dropped her side of the mattress to place her hands on her hips and stated that she had no intention of playing surgeon yet again.
“Sit down before you fall down,” she’d demanded, pointing to the sofa. He’d been about to protest but one glance at his arm told him he’d pushed himself too far. The sight of a spot of blood blooming on his sleeve had him obeying, though it killed him to be so fucking weak.
“Thank God you remembered to buy linens,” he said as he watched her make up the bed.
“I thought you liked rustic,” she teased, tucking in the last corner before putting the cases on the two pillows she’d found inside a chest in one of the bedrooms.
“You don’t like spiders, and I can’t stand the thought of sleeping on any sheets that were in those bedrooms.” He gave an exaggerated shudder that had her smiling. With the bed made, she moved a small table to one side, placed a lamp on top of it, and decided it was time to go to the river.
“I need to wash your wound. You stay here and I’ll be back—”
“Nope,” Anson said instantly. “No one is going anywhere alone.”
“But—”
“No buts about it. I’m not taking the chance that you’ll need help and I’m too far away to hear you call.” Seeing her eyes flash, he got to his feet. “I’m serious, Natalia. It’s dangerous and you know it.” He went to the duffel bag and pulled out one of the guns, checking the magazine. She’d purchased additional ammunition in her shopping sprees, for which he was grateful.
“I really think you should stay here,” she said, picking up a large pot. “The river isn’t far and—” Her words cut off as he looked to the spoon where it lay next to him on the sofa, slowly quirking his eyebrow, not needing to speak to communicate with words. She didn’t need to know that he had no intention of using the implement on her butt. The fact that it had been she who had spoken of that possibility was evidently enough as she sighed. “Fine, you can come but don’t blame me if you regret it later.”
He most certainly had not a single regret as he watched her now. What she’d remembered as a river hadn’t been far and the sound of it babbling over some rocks upstream was musical and calming.
“I remember it being bigger,” she said as they’d stood on its edge.
“I’m sure it seemed that way. You were just a little girl the last time you saw it.” Anson had been very pleased to see the water ran clear and knew it wasn’t a true river but a stream that would eventually pour into one of the larger rivers flowing through Argentina. The fact that they were in the middle of nowhere, not a sign of civilization as far as the eye could see, told him that this little stream had yet to be polluted by man. But he was also aware that where there was water, there would still be danger. Animals needed to drink as well.
He’d seen Natalia fill her pot and then kneel to splash some water on her face, her palm running beneath her ponytail to apply some to her neck. It was humid and hot. She’d soaked a cloth and returned to him. Thanking her, he took it and pressed the cool fabric against his sweaty skin. When he saw how hot she looked, he grinned.
“Why don’t you go ahead and take a dip? I’ll be happy to watch.” He paused, loving the blush that swept up her face and then added, “Why, Ms. Alvarez, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I meant I’d keep an eye out for wild animals.” When her eyes flicked to the water and then back to him, he said, “I promise, you’ll be safe and feel better. You’ve worked hard today, take a break.”
She’d nodded and sat down on the log next to him to remove her boots and socks. Returning to the stream’s edge, she gave a glance over her shoulder and then turned away. Anson’s breath had caught as she’d slowly peeled down her jeans, kicking them aside before she removed her t-shirt. The white cotton panties she wore clung to the generous globes of her ass. The thin band across her back and the straps over her shoulders attested to the fact that she wore a bra. She was stunning. She looked like a bronze statue of some exotic goddess. After another glance back, in which Anson didn’t even attempt to deny the fact that his eyes were glued on her, she removed the band holding her ponytail, running her fingers through the strands as they fell to conceal her back before she walked out into the water. Once it reached her waist, she sank down until only her head was visible. His cock jerked at her soft moan of pleasure, wishing he was the one who had dragged that sound from her.
True to his word, he did keep watch, not wanting anything to ruin what was most likely the first true pleasure she’d had in months. Anson had to admit that if it wasn’t for the fact that there were brightly colored tropical birds flitting from branch to branch around him, he could pretend they were camping up in the Chisos Mountains of Texas. Well, that and the fact that he was holding a gun on his lap while his woman took a swim.
His woman. He realized that he’d begun considering Natalia as his months ago when he knew that she’d become his
mission. Now that he had gotten her away from Montez, he needed to adjust the parameters of that mission. It was no longer enough to get her out of that asshole’s clutches… he wouldn’t be satisfied until she was totally free of the fear she’d lived under for years. Wouldn’t be able to relax until Montez was dead. But the single most important step in his mission would only be accomplished when Natalia learned that she was safe with him, that she could trust him with not only her life but with her heart… when she admitted that she wanted Anson to be hers… her man.
The light that was capable of penetrating the thick canopy above them was fading and he knew it was time to go. Pushing to his feet, he walked to the water’s edge, smiling as he watched Natalia floating on her back, her body cradled by the water. Her hair floated on the surface, the color turned a deep brown, and he felt the urge to comb through the tresses. Not wishing to startle her, he softly called, “You make a beautiful mermaid, Ms. Alvarez.”
Her body sank until she found her feet and then she stood, droplets of water sliding down a body that he so wished was being caressed by his fingers instead. Though she’d worn her underwear into the water, the cloth didn’t hide much. Her panties couldn’t conceal the darker thatch of her pubic hair or the cleft of her ass when she twisted away to pull her hair over her shoulder so that she could wring out the water. He could see the fullness of her breasts and the shadows of dark areolas beneath the wet fabric of her bra. But what truly held his eyes was the tiny bit of color he could see peeking out of the top of the cup covering her left breast. Unlike the fading bruises on her back, these colors were vibrant, beautiful. His cock was once more stiffening inside his jeans, and he had to bite back the compelling urge to reach out, dip his fingertip into the bra and pull it down just enough to see the complete tattoo.
By the time she walked to the bank, he’d gotten himself under control and picked up her t-shirt, holding it so that she could duck her head into the opening. Before allowing her to do so, he asked, “What’s the significance of the ink?”
Her head lifted and her hand went to cover her left breast. He didn’t blink or withdraw the question. Instead, he waited for her to answer.
“It’s a colibrí. That means—”
“Hummingbird,” Anson supplied with a smile. “Nice.”
She nodded, her fingers stroking across the bare flesh where only a bit of a wing was exposed. “My father always teased that I reminded him of the hummingbird because, while I was tiny, I was constantly fluttering about.”
“I’m sure he’d be honored to know he’s never far from your heart,” Anson said, guiding the shirt over her head as if to remind both of them what they’d been doing before he mentioned the tattoo. She slid her arms through the sleeves and pulled the shirt down, once more relegating the hummingbird to the darkness. She tugged on her jeans, the task made difficult with her wet skin. “Next time we’ll bring some towels,” he said as she returned to the log to put on her socks and boots. When she stood, turned and then bent over the log, Anson almost groaned watching her ass lift, the denim of her jeans stretching across her buttocks.
“I don’t think we need to resort to grubs quite yet,” he teased. “I’ve got some MREs.”
She turned to look over her shoulder. “No, I’m gathering some herbs to make a poultice.” Nodding towards his side, she continued. “It will help you not only heal faster but fight any infection that might be setting in.”
“Natural medicine,” he said with a nod.
“Exactly,” she said, wrapping the herbs in the cloth she’d used earlier and handing it to him. “Besides, what I don’t use for medicinal reasons, we can use to season any slugs I sauté.”
“A resistance fighter, a warrior, an incredible dancer, a surgeon, a mermaid, a botanist and now a gourmet chef. I do believe you will be quite good at playing with me, Natalia. After all, you are a woman of many different roles.”
Though she didn’t verbally respond, she did smile before she began to walk back to the house. Anson walked behind her, enjoying the sway of her hips and the swinging of her hair. He grinned, thinking how very much Jennie would like this woman.
Anson started the fire in the stove while Natalia stepped into what he dubbed the “breakfast nook” to change out of her damp clothing. By the time he had a pot of water simmering on the stove, she’d returned, dressed in a skirt and a loose peasant blouse that didn’t hide the fact that she was braless. She’d pulled her wet hair into a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck.
“I thought these might be good for dessert,” she said, holding up two bananas.
“They will be. I’ve got some peaches we can mix them with,” Anson agreed. As she cooked the rice and beans, he prepared the fruit salad. It wasn’t the fanciest fare and yet it was satisfying in the fact that they’d worked together to fix the meal. While she began to wash the few dishes, he finished the cup of tea she’d prepared, explaining that though it tasted bitter, the herbs she’d used would help fight any infection from the inside as well.
Draping the towel over the edge of the sink, she said, “Can you light the lantern?” Once he had, she came to him. “Do you need help out of your clothes?”
Anson grinned, and she gave him an eye roll and a smile. “I meant your shirt, Mr. Steele. I want to change your bandage and apply the poultice.”
“I’m all yours, doctor,” he said, carefully slipping his arm out of the make-shift sling. He managed not to grimace as she helped him off with his shirt. Once she’d unwrapped the gauze from around his arm, he saw that the blood had seeped worse than he’d believed.
“Hold still,” she instructed, gently working the edges of the bandage from the wound. “I’ll try not to hurt you.”
Anson sat still, his eyes not on the wound but on the woman as she took care of her patient. After she washed the wound, her fingertips gently palpated around the stitches.
“Does that hurt?”
“Not really…” Seeing her body tense, the look on her face stating she doubted his veracity though she said not a single word, he decided to be truthful. “Well, not too badly… just a twinge really.”
“That’s good, and though it is a bit puffy, I don’t see any red streaks indicating infection. The herbs will help keep that from happening.”
She applied the natural concoction she’d made into a paste and then covered it with another gauze pad, taping the bandage into place. After positioning his arm against his chest again, she tied a knot in the new sling she’d made.
“At least those sheets were good for something. This will keep your arm secure and should be a lot more comfortable than the belt.”
Anson reached out to cover her hand where it was lying on his shoulder. “You have a very gentle touch. Thank you.”
Green eyes lifted to his. “You’re welcome. It’s the least I can do as it is all my—”
“Don’t,” Anson said, cutting her off. “You didn’t shoot me, Natalia.”
“But—”
“Keep talking and I’ll have to change my mind about any spanking,” he warned, a smile making the words sound more like a promise than a threat. “I’d planned on using just my hand for a gentle lesson, but if you continue to blame yourself, then I’m afraid…” He paused and watched different emotions show in her eyes. The ones that he was most delighted to observe were curiosity and what he decided to interpret as flat out desire, and yet the final one sobered him, as it bordered on fear.
Lifting his hand from hers, he moved to cup her cheek. He’d planted the seed but knowing what she’d gone through, he understood the next move needed to be hers. Bending forward, he placed his forehead against hers. “I’ll never harm you, Natalia. I’ll never lift as much as a finger to you in anger. I’ll never beat you. Never strike you. Yes, I’d punish you when you need it, but there are many ways to teach a lesson other than spanking.” He was so close that he could see the fear dissipate and a softness enter her eyes. He took a step that would plant his own seed in her mind
to hopefully bloom one day soon. “And one day, and only when you are ready, I’ll show you how sensual a hand against your bottom can be.” He pulled back only far enough to kiss her forehead. Straightening, they stood toe to toe until she flushed and dropped her eyes before she stepped back.
“I’m tired,” she said softly.
“Time for bed,” Anson agreed. He sat on the couch and after a brief hesitation, she knelt in front of him. His cock again jerked at her position even though she was only unlacing his boots and pulling them off. Standing again, he unzipped his jeans, which had her eyes widening as the bulge of his semi-erect cock told of his arousal. When it became apparent that he had no intention of sleeping in his clothes, Natalia helped pull the jeans down, a flush on her cheeks, and his hand on her shoulder as he stepped from them, leaving him wearing only his boxers. He made no move to conceal his desire but also made no move to bring attention to it.
“I-I’ll take the couch,” she said, pulling her eyes from his crotch to look towards the sofa.
“No, we’ll both take the bed,” Anson countered. “We both need to actually sleep. I won’t be able to do that knowing you are uncomfortable.” When she still hesitated, he sighed. “All right, take the bed.”
“No, I mean it’s short and lumpy and… smells a little.”
“Thank God,” Anson said, “I was praying that odor wasn’t me.” When her lips twitched, he said, “So, we share the bed?”
Her head swiveled between her two choices before she gave a small nod and stood. When he asked if she was planning on sleeping in her clothes, she hesitated again and then stepped out of her skirt but kept the peasant blouse on, the hem falling to mid-thigh. Anson placed the gun on the table holding the lamp, and after she’d somewhat reluctantly sunk down onto the mattress, he turned down the wick, plunging them into darkness. Lying back, he couldn’t see clearly, but smiled when he felt her ease closer to him. He was surprised and extremely pleased when she bent over him.