Full Throttle

by Julie Ann Walker

  “Because losing Rosa”—even after all these years it was still difficult to say the woman’s name—“nearly killed me. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, too. I had to make sure you were alive. I had to know that you hadn’t died out there on the battlefield. I had to know. It was the only way I could stay sane.”

  “But I never knew”—he shook his head—“I meant anything more to you than a fleeting acquaintance. I suspected you loved Rosa.” Good Lord, more than he’d ever know. “But I didn’t think you—”

  “I adored you,” she told him. She had no pride left. No shame. “I adored everything about you. The very ground you walked on. Which is why I had to make sure I hadn’t lost you, too.”

  And just as it’d done all those years ago in that hotel room, his throat seemed to stick over a swallow. He was no longer lounging back on his hands, his legs stretched out in front of him. Now he was sitting forward, his black eyes drilling into her as surely as that pesky woodpecker continued to drill holes into her favorite sycamore tree back in DC. She almost winced under the sharp force of his gaze.

  “And now?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

  She knew what he was after. And considering all the years of lying, she felt it only right, only fair, that she give him this one irrefutable truth. “Oh, Carlos. I still adore you.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Had Steady ever felt such unfettered joy? Had he ever known such unmitigated bliss? It was like he’d taken a hand grenade of happiness to the chest, his heart blown wide open. And, sí, for a moment there, and despite what he’d told himself standing out in the rain, he’d allowed old hurts, old insecurities to seep in. But Abby…wonderful, delightful, beautiful Abby had obliterated all his self-doubt with four little words.

  I still adore you…

  His instincts took over before he formed another thought. Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her into his lap, cradling her against him, holding her as close as he’d always dreamed. Overwhelmed with the desire to get closer still. As close as a man and woman could possibly be… “Abby,” he whispered her name, peppering her face with kisses. He drank the tears from her skin, reveling in their salty sweetness on his tongue. “Oh, Abby, I’ve always adored you, too, cariño. From the first day I met you, you’re all I could think about. Dios, how I wanted you. It drove me mad.”

  He wasn’t aware she’d been squirming, struggling in his embrace, until she suddenly stilled, going stiff as the scalpels back in his duffel bag. He lifted his head to look down at her, not surprised to find her eyes wide. But the fragile, volatile expression on her face gave him pause. “What is it, neña?”

  “Y-you wanted me? All those years ago, you w-w…” She didn’t go on, simply shook her head in disbelief. He smiled down at her, loving the way her wet hair curled around her face. Loving the faint pink color of her makeup-free lips. Loving how her long lashes turned from dark brown near her lids to blond up at the tips. Loving her.

  “Of course I did,” he told her, bending to kiss her nose. “You were like this delightful, spritely, incandescent thing capable of lighting up the whole world. I was a moth to your flame, Abby. Surely you knew that.”

  And he was accused of being reticent with details? Well, how about them details? He’d damn near waxed poetic! Hooah!

  She shook her head. Then, in consternation, he watched her face crumble before she buried her nose into his bare chest.

  “Hey, now,” he murmured, rocking her from side to side, patting her narrow back, taking pleasure in her smallness, in her nearness. “What’s this all ab—”

  That’s all he managed before she pushed back to look at him, her green eyes puffy and swollen, the tip of her nose shiny. The poor woman was a mess, no joke. And, at the same time, he’d never seen her looking more beautiful.

  “I didn’t know.” She shook her head. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

  “You were so young, Abby. Too young. And even if that wasn’t the case, I was a nobody. And you were the soon-to-be president’s daughter.”

  “Why do you keep saying that like it’s a thing?”

  And although he didn’t think it was possible to love her any more, those simple, heartfelt words had the warmth in his chest, the joy in his heart expanding tenfold. “Because, to most people, it is a thing.”

  “You’re crazy,” she insisted, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. His teeth itched to do the same. Catch that plump piece of flesh between them before he reintroduced his tongue to hers. “If anything, you were…are…the one who’s too good for me.”

  His crack of laughter competed with the rumble of the deluge pounding on the roof. “Oh, Abby.” He buried his face in her neck, inhaling the delightful aromas of cocoa butter lotion, dryer sheets, and clean, clear jungle rain. “Only you could possibly believe that.” And, then, the idiot in his pants finally took notice of the fact that her skirt-covered bottom was pressing down on it. A telltale rush of blood surged to his groin.

  His thoughts instantly turned from the past to the present. From old hurts and misunderstandings to new possibilities. He loved her. She admitted to adoring him—which wasn’t exactly the same as dropping the L-bomb, but it was close, right? Right. And the storm was probably going to rage for at least another hour. So he had a minimum of sixty minutes to finally, finally do the things to her in reality that he’d been doing to her in his fantasies for nearly a decade.

  It wasn’t going to be enough. Not nearly enough. But it was a start. And for now, it’d have to do. He turned his face slightly, whispering in her ear, “I wanted you Abby. I wanted you then. I want you now. Let me have you.”

  * * *

  Abby’s body thrilled at his nearness, at his hot breath whispering in her ear. But her heart ached with sadness. Oh, how she wished she could give him what he wanted. But, if she let him have her without him first knowing what had happened, her part in what had happened, it would be another deception. And she was finished with lies. Finished with secrets.

  She’d wanted to wait. Wait until they were somewhere safe. Somewhere he wouldn’t think twice about heading for the door and leaving her behind. But, unfortunately, the time for her confession had come…

  “Carlos,” she whispered, her breath shuddering when he flicked his tongue into her ear. Her toes curled at the warm, wet intrusion. Her sex throbbing when her mind conjured up the image of him sticking it somewhere much more intimate. “There’s something you need to know about—Oh, God!”

  His hand had traveled under her tunic. His big, callused fingers finding her nipple and pinching gently. She felt that caress from her breast all the way down to her clitoris. The little bundle of nerves tingled violently with every skillful pluck of his fingers.

  No. No! She couldn’t give in to the pleasure he pressed on her, to the hot demand of his mouth when his lips landed atop hers. She turned her head, panting. Dizzy. “There’s something I have to tell you, something you have to know.”

  “Not now, Abby,” he groaned, taking her hand and placing it over his distended fly. She’d felt the twitch of his big thigh muscles beneath her bottom, noticed the subtle trembling of his solid arms around her, but that was nothing compared to the throb of his hardened length against her palm. So big. So hot. So tempting. It took everything she had not to curl her fingers around him. “I want you too badly.” He bit the flesh over her throat, his teeth a gentle, stinging reminder of the power he kept in check. Her breath huffed from her lungs in a stuttering exhale. Her brain went fuzzy with passion, with pleasure. “I’ve wanted you for too long. I need you to let me—”

  “But you wouldn’t want me if—”

  “God, Abby,” he implored her, flipping her onto her back against the mat, wedging his hips between her thighs and stroking against her. Her eyes crossed and threatened to roll back in her head. “Please, please. Let me have you. Let me show you all the things I’ve been dreaming of showing you since you were eighteen.”

  Sonofa—! This man. This m
an was killing her. And in that moment, for one split second, she allowed herself to revel in her own glorious death.

  “B-but the—” she began, only to lose her words on a gasp as he stroked forward again. The cotton of her skirt was deliciously abrasive, damp from the deluge and from her body’s excitement.

  “Don’t worry,” he said between kisses against her throat. “We have a while. Long enough, I think. And the rain will drown out our cries.”

  Their cries…

  Holy cannoli! Just the thought of Carlos throwing his head back, crying out her name as an orgasm burst through him, as he poured his lust inside her, made her blood pop and fizz like it was carbonated.

  “I hurt, Abby,” he breathed against her lips. She opened her eyes to find him looming over her, his palms braced on either side of her head, his shoulders bulging with the strain of holding himself aloft. Black hair fell across his forehead and his midnight eyes sparkled in the dim light, imploring her even more than his words. “I hurt so badly from wanting you. Let me have you.”

  And in that moment she knew she’d give him anything. She may hate herself later, and he would certainly hate her later. But right here and right now she would let him have, let him take, anything he wanted. Swallowing down the ache at the back of her throat, refusing to let the tears pricking behind her eyes fall, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled his mouth down to hers, whispering against his lips, “Okay, Carlos. Take me…”

  * * *

  The celebration that occurred inside Steady’s head was the equivalent of New Year’s Eve, the Fourth of July, and Mardi Gras all rolled into one. Because Abby had just agreed to let him have her. Not forever, mind you. But for right now. And after he made love to her, he figured her agreeing to forever was just around the corner.

  Not to blow his own whistle or anything—especially when he was sooo looking forward to having her blow it for him; come on, he was a guy, after all—but he was good at this. He’d spent a lot of years and a lot of time practicing, and it dawned on him that it’d all been in preparation for this moment right here. Those previous women, those one-night stands he’d thought were simply outlets for his nervous energy or ways to pass the time, had really been training for this. When he’d finally take Abby in his arms and make her his own, mind, body, and soul.

  And though there were probably some women who wouldn’t appreciate his gratitude, he sent out a silent thanks to every lovely mamacita who’d taken the time to teach him the infinite wonders of the female body. From the dark-eyed girl who pulled him behind the bleachers his sophomore year of high school to the brown-skinned beauty in Marrakesh who showed him how to accurately find a woman’s G-spot. He praised them all for their generous tutelage. Because now he could spend the rest of his life giving pleasure to one woman. The woman of his heart…

  And speaking of the woman of his heart, the kiss she pressed on him was wet and sweet. A little bit tentative and so fucking hot he almost forgot his manners—and all the lessons he’d learned—and stripped that wet skirt from her hips so he could plunge into her, balls deep.

  But he managed to rein himself in…just barely. And when he lowered some of his weight atop her, when he wrapped his arm under her head to provide a pillow, he realized how perfectly she fit him. Sí, she was small in comparison, but her hips were womanly, creating a soft cradle for his. Her breasts were supple, providing the ideal cushion for his heavy chest. And her legs…

  Sweet Jesús Cristo! Had there ever been a sexier pair of gams than Abby’s? If so, he’d never seen them. Because her calves were slim yet muscular and her ankles impossibly delicate. She bent her knees, squeezing his hips with her thighs and tucking her feet on the insides of his knees to better align their bodies…their sexes.

  He could feel her wet heat all the way through both sets of material. And he’d always been a little controlling in the bedroom, but her overt femininity made him want to pound his chest like Tarzan and pound his cock into her soft, giving body over and over and over again! Mierda!

  There went those reins again. Slipping…

  Okay, okay, deep breaths.

  Then again, deep breaths were a bit hard to accomplish with her agile tongue darting hungrily in and out of his mouth. With her industrious hands smoothing over his back to squeeze his ass. With her rubbing herself against him until his eyes crossed and his toes curled inside his jungle boots.

  So first things first, he had to slow things down. Manacling her wrists in one hand, he pinned her arms above her head. “Slowly,” he instructed, lessening the frenzied fervor of the kiss, gently nipping at the corners of her delicious lips.

  “Carlos,” she panted, and he pulled back to see her cheeks flushed with passion, her eyes half-lidded and pleading. “Please, I—”

  “Slowly,” he repeated. “Very slowly, Abby, I want you to open your mouth and offer me your tongue.” There was just something about seeing her do that. Probably because she’d had a habit of licking her lips back in college that’d driven him absolutely wild—and given him a million nut-tightening fantasies of her turning to offer him a taste.

  Her eyes widened. She swallowed. And then he could feel her tremble beneath him as her sweet-tasting breath huffed against his chin, tickling him, delighting him. His hardened length thudded heavily, begging to be set free. But he resisted—just barely—the urge to reach down and undo his fly so he could rub himself against the inside of her silky thigh.

  He watched avidly as her pupils dilated and her moistened lips parted, revealing the pink enchantment that was her little tongue. A surge of new blood rushed to his groin, taking everything up a notch.

  “Good girl,” he said before dipping his chin. He tasted her offering, gently sucking the delicate tip of her tongue into his mouth. She moaned, writhing beneath him, bucking her hips, seeking more pleasure, more stimulation. And he would give it to her. Soon. But first…

  “Shhh, cariño,” he soothed against her lips. “We will get where you need to go. But we will take our time, no?” And he couldn’t help but notice the inflections he used, his accent, tended to thicken when he was being ridden hard by lust.

  And, Dios, he’d never been ridden this hard. Because his love for Abby, his complete and total adoration of her, made everything that much more urgent, that much more…poignant. Which meant he was all the more determined to make this time, this first time they were together, as memorable, as pleasurable as possible.

  Carefully, with infinite care, he showed her what could be accomplished with teeth and lips and tongue. He showed her all the different ways to suck and lick, to give pleasure and to take. He didn’t know how many minutes passed. And the truth was, he would have been happy to spend the rest of eternity simply kissing her. But the way she was moving beneath him, so sinuously, so urgently, he knew she was desperate for the next step.

  Breaking the seal of their lips had her moaning with frustration. “It’s okay, mi vida,” he said against her throat, sucking on her pulse point again and grinning in masculine approval when it caused her hips to buck beneath him. He lowered more of his weight atop her in order to keep her from rubbing herself to completion. Because the first time she came, it was going to be with his fingers inside her…or maybe his tongue. He hadn’t decided which.

  “Carlos,” she cried. “God, I ache!”

  “I know,” he told her. “I ache, too. But bueno. It’s good, no? The more it hurts right now, the better it will feel when I finally put myself inside you. You want me inside you, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she panted. “Yes. Please. Right now. I can’t stand it.”

  “You can stand it,” he assured her, reaching down to grab the hem of her tunic top. Slowly, so infinitely slowly, he pulled the garment up her body, watching as inch after inch of smooth, creamy flesh was revealed. Then, when the backs of his fingers brushed the soft, warm undersides of her breasts, he quickly whipped the shirt over her head. Bunching the tunic in a ball, he shoved it under her neck. The
n he resecured her wrists in one hand, pulling her arms back above her head.

  The wonderful woman had taken the opportunity of her shirt removal to leave little claw marks down his spine. And his dick came damn close to exploding as a result. If he was going to do this the right way, the way he wanted, he couldn’t have her hands on him. It was too much temptation. Too much stimulation. And he was already so close to the edge.

  “You can stand it,” he said again. “Because it’s what I want. And though you don’t know it, it’s what you want, too.”

  “You’re a domineering bastard when it comes to this, aren’t you?” she snarled, her chest rising and falling with each rapid breath. He looked down at the wonder he’d uncovered, at Abby’s small, pale breasts. At her tiny pink nipples. And he nearly lost his mind. She was even more beautiful than he imagined. Even more delicately feminine.

  “I am,” he admitted, ducking his chin to gently suck one delectable bud into his mouth. She gasped and arched her back into a supple bow. The maneuver had her pelvis rubbing the tip of his cock, squeezing it delightfully against her pubic bone. “And you love it,” he finished, taking the distended nub between his teeth to flick it with his tongue.

  On the one hand she tasted like an angel, ethereal and exquisite. Like something from a dream. On the other hand, her flavor was that of a flesh-and-blood woman. Her skin was salty with sweat, sweet with lotion, and so damned hot it was a wonder it didn’t singe his tongue. But regardless of whether or not she was corporeal or celestial, the truth was, he’d found heaven…

  Chapter Seventeen

  The hard length of Carlos inside those ass-hugging cargo pants was a rod of stimulation against the top of Abby’s sex, a hot shaft that promised both temptation and satisfaction. She wanted that satisfaction right now, two minutes ago. But Carlos was almost dictatorial in his need to be the one to set the pace. And something inside Abby, something she’d never known was there, thrilled at his autocratic demands. Thrilled at the orders falling from his lips and the way he held her captive to his wants, his desires, all the while feeding her longing, fueling her lust higher and higher and higher.