by Cherry Adair
“I never took you for a woman who’d give up so easily, Rimaldi.” Rubbing soap on her crown, he used both hands to massage her scalp until Riva practically purred. Or cried. Or purred and cried.
God she was a mess. And Gideon was the last person she wanted to see her at her vulnerable worst. She’d never wanted anyone’s good opinion more. She couldn’t bear for him to think of her with pity.
He stroked her ass with the hard bar of his penis and she whimpered with need as too many sensations, too many unfamiliar emotions welled up inside her.
“No fair.”
He piled her hair on top of her head, then bent to bite her nape. “You can retaliate later.”
The scentless soap didn’t foam, but felt slick and sensual between his hands as he washed her hair, then her breasts. “You have beautiful breasts. Firm. High. Perfect. I love the way your nipples bead when I touch them.”
Riva braced her forearm against the wall, leaning her forehead on it as he caressed her, tweaking her nipples until they peaked to painful nubs of pleasure. Hair roughened, and hard with muscle, his thighs pressed against her legs. His muscular chest crowded against her back, as he glided his soapy hand down her belly and between her legs. His foot shoved her legs apart as he washed her swollen folds intimately.
Her breathing was erratic. It wasn’t lost on her that only half an hour earlier, she’d thought she’d taken her last breath. She shuddered and clenched as she pushed her hips hard against him. “Killing me.”
Fumbling behind her, she wrapped her fingers around the length of him. Slick with soap, his penis bobbed as she slid her hand down to the base, then up again, feeling the veins running the length, and the ridge of his glans.
I love you. She wanted to taste him. To see him.
Then she couldn’t do anything other than gasp as he pushed two fingers slowly inside her slick opening. She shuddered at the slow glide as he curved them deeply, then pressed his palm against her clit. Riva moaned, and her entire body shook.
Her climax came slowly, like ocean swells, getting larger and larger, blocking out everything but the sensuous pull and slide of his hand in and around her. She felt full, swollen, so aroused that every slip and slide of his fingers made her peak a little higher. And conversely, had to bite her lip as she fought back the tears.
“Don’t break it, sweetheart,” Gideon murmured against her throat as she came in hard, trembling spasms.
“Oh, God.” Unclamping her hand, she unfurled her fingers. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He sounded amused as he brushed a kiss between her shoulder blades, his beard rough on her sensitized skin. “Having your hands on me feels incredible. But let’s finish up in here and take this to a bigger arena.”
“Give me three minutes and I’ll join you.”
“Two, and it’s a deal.” He dropped a kiss on her shoulder, and pushed the door open. Cold air swirled around her warm body.
Facing the wall, Riva swallowed the tightness in her throat. Water poured down her face, and she made no noise as she washed, then rinsed the soap out of her hair. Drawing in a shaky breath, and straightening her shoulders she turned off the water and stepped out onto the cool linoleum floor.
Wrapping the only towel around her dripping hair, she walked into the bedroom to find Gideon lying on the bed, hands stacked under his head, eyes closed. The last of the late afternoon sun streamed through the window, bathing the hard ridges of muscle on his chest and arms, and delineating his body in bronze. The dark hair on his chest tapered to his penis, which was large and semierect. She drew in a deep breath.
He looked like a sexy Greek statue.
He was also clean-shaven. Had she been in the shower that long?
Sitting on the foot of the bed, she flipped her head and towel-dried her hair as best she could with the thin cloth. Tossing the towel aside, she turned around to find Gideon’s green eyes watching her intently. “What can I do?”
Riva crawled up to the head of the bed, lay on top of him. He was hard. All over. Brushing his newly shaven jaw with the tips of her fingers, she asked softly, “Do? A number of interesting things come to mind.”
Gideon took her wandering hand and brought her fingers to his lips. “You know what I mean. Let the other shoe drop. Let it drop and get it out. You’ve had one hell of a day, and even the strongest man would have a meltdown after what you’ve just been through.”
Riva shifted off him, pulling a pillow over her lap as she sat up, curling her legs under her butt. Combing her fingers through her wet hair, she gave him a steady look, while her heart jumped around her chest like a damned Mexican jumping bean.
“I’m a trained operative. Yeah, sure, it was stressful when my life was being counted in seconds. But I’m over it.” Or would be over it once she got some distance.
Tossing the pillow aside, Gideon took her hand and pulled her back over him. She made a small oomph as she collided with his chest. Wrapping his arms around her, he said unsteadily, “Then hold on to me for a while, will you?” He sighed. “You might be unaffected, but I’m coming down from that adrenaline high with a crash.” His arms tightened around her, and he kissed her tenderly on the mouth.
He wasn’t the one who needed comfort, and Riva loved him even more for pretending that he did. They made love slowly, bathed in dying sunlight and deepening shadows. Riva imprinted Gideon Stark into every cell in her body with each stroke of her fingers, with each brush of her mouth. She didn’t close her eyes as she came, fixing his face in her mind, as her body brought his body pleasure and release.
She’d remember the scar on his eyebrow, and the ones on his shoulder. She’d remember the way his lips tilted when he was amused, and his eyes deepened when he came.
She’d remember every microexpression, and the way his dark hair brushed his shoulders and fell like silk between her fingers. She’d remember the shape of his mouth, and the taste of his skin.
IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou.
She’d remember Gideon Stark until the day she died.
A note had been stuck under the door while she and Gideon dozed for a couple of hours. It said that clothes and weapons had been left in the hallway for them. She’d heard the house come alive as operatives came and went. Riva knew the drill. Maza’s body and the two wrist devices would be removed.
Escobar Maza’s identity would be confirmed, the two devices would be analyzed, and the room where Maza had been held would be sanitized as if nothing had ever taken place there.
And while she hadn’t actually been the one to kill Maza, her job in Cosio was done the moment he took his last breath. She was not part of the tac teams here to defuse subsequent bombs.
The house was now as silent and empty as she knew her soul would be without Gideon. She didn’t need a vision for that. She looked at him, sleeping naked, loose-limbed and contented. She wasn’t a woman who ever thought of what-ifs, but right now, she sure as hell wanted to.
Wrapping herself in a towel, she opened the door a crack to retrieve the clothes and handguns. Grateful to be armed, and armored, Riva dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt in the bathroom, feeling almost like her old self. She placed his clothes on the rickety table beside the bed where he’d see them when he woke up.
She looked at the lights spread out below like multicolored stars in the night sky. Cosian’s living their lives, their daily existence, unaware of how their lives hung in the balance. One wrong call, one wrong move by Navarro and his team, and everything she saw before her would be nothing more than a giant hole in the ground.
For two hours, she’d been free of thoughts of the threat of the thermobaric bomb. T-FLAC. Leaving Cosio. Leaving Gideon. And as long as she remained in this room with him, none of that was pertinent. Yet all those things pressed in on her whether she wanted to acknowledge them or not.
Her fingers curled on the sill. God, how was it possible to hurt this badly without actually having a gaping hole in her chest? She’d almost died a couple of h
ours ago, and yet, knowing this was the last private time she’d share with Gideon felt worse.
This was why she avoided emotional entanglement at all costs. This was worse than she ever could have imagined. Those visions were spot-on. The pain was red-hot, pulsing with finality and loss. She didn’t understand the visions, but she knew that much.
And that pain of loss was with Gideon in the room with her. How would this feel when the last good-bye was said? When there wasn’t one more chance to touch him, to see his face?
The view blurred and her eyes burned with unshed tears. Throat clogged and lungs tight, she forced herself to take one breath after the other. No one had ever died of a broken heart. She wasn’t going to be the exception. The sheets rustled as he got off the bed. She heard the soft pad of his feet as he crossed the carpet to come to her.
Sliding his arms around her waist, he nuzzled his lips against her temple. “You smell sexy as hell.” He swept aside the thick curtain of her hair to kiss her earlobe.
Wanting to turn and cling to him, Riva instead tilted her head. “There’s no smell to our soap, that part’s your imagination.”
Mouth gentle, breath warm, he trailed kisses up the side of her neck. “Your skin smells unique, like apricots, and turns me on like nothing else. I’d recognize you in a dark room filled with a hundred women.”
She smiled. It hurt. “What would you be doing in a dark room filled with a hundred women, Stark?”
“Searching for you.” Cupping her breast through the soft cotton of her shirt, he stroked the under curve with a lazy thumb. “You didn’t sleep long.”
Wrapping her arms over his, Riva maintained a smile, determined that he never see how much it was going to kill her to say good-bye.
His forearms were like steel bands around her, steel softened by dark hair. Riva’s fingers lingered and stroked. “We have that in common. Overachievers with insomnia.” Where will you be sleeping tomorrow night? Will you remember an old flame and try to rekindle memories with her?
She closed her eyes. Don’t foreshadow. Enjoy the fleeting moment while you can. It’ll be over soon enough. Their time together was ephemeral, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy every moment they had remaining.
Riva loved the strength of his arms around her. Loved the heat of his body. She loved the way his heartbeat syncopated with hers.
Wordlessly they stared out the window. What was he thinking? They had been given a couple of hours, but she knew she had to go downstairs soon and start the rest of her life. Knew they were over once they left this room. Her vision told her of her heartache, and her visions were never wrong.
Her chest ached, and her arms reflexively tightened over his. She knew she was putting off leaving the room. Leaving him. There was no reason for Gideon to linger. He had a life to get back to. Her job in Cosio was done. She’d return to her furnished room at T-FLAC HQ in Montana, attend a debriefing, then await orders for her next op.
“I imagined meeting my son here one day.” His breath whispered warm against her temple.
Riva stroked the heated muscles of his forearm. He sounded melancholy. She knew the feeling. Was he trying to figure out a graceful way to say good-bye? She had to make it easier for him. He owed her nothing. Their time together had been nothing more than danger linked together by short, passionate interludes. Hot sex in the jungle. Nothing to build on.
She easily imagined this tough, alpha male with a child. He’d be a great father. Kind and affirming. He’d build instead of break down. He’d love his child unconditionally. “I’m sorry,” she said, softly, meaning it. She should tell him there would be other children. But children required a woman he cared about, and Riva wasn’t a masochist.
“Ironically, me, too.” He rubbed his chin on her hair and his arms tightened around her waist. “Weird, since believing I had a son was an unpleasant reminder of what kind of man I believed I was. Rapist was just one more black mark against my soul. And yet—”
“And yet you already loved him.” Riva knew she had to pull away. Had to stop torturing herself right now. Nothing good could come from spending a few extra minutes indulging herself, when she knew the outcome already. This was as torturous as ripping off a Band-Aid slowly.
Licking her dry lips, she managed to say evenly, “Angélica fabricated the story to cement the fiction she was weaving around you. Something else to hold over your head. But it backfired, because it made you want to do right by him. You’re a good man, Gideon Stark.”
“Am I? Was I? I don’t remember much more of that life than I did five months ago.”
“I know it matters to you that you don’t remember.” But I’m in this life. Will you remember me?
“Odd bits of memory have been slowly sifting to the surface recently. More every day. But it’s not enough. I want my past life back.”
“If you don’t remember, you don’t. Can you live with never knowing all of it? Because, Gideon, you may have to. You can’t spend the rest of your life chasing your past.” Riva knew. What an irony. He was searching for a past he didn’t remember and she was trying to forget one she remembered too well.
“You’re right. But I’ll find out who I was so that I can adjust my course toward the future.”
“Smart man.” As much as she wanted to stay right where she was, secure in the shelter of his arms, she disengaged. “We’d better head downstairs. Duty calls.”
“Isn’t your job here done?”
Riva picked up the comm from the rickety wooden table beside the bed and inserted it as they left the room. “I have to debrief before I head home. I’m going downstairs.”
“Hang on. I’ll finish dressing and come with you.” He pulled on jeans, a black T-shirt, and his own boots, as she’d done.
The quietness of the house pulsed around them, especially after the high-tension activities hours earlier. The place looked old and unmaintained, but it was a T-FLAC property, and as secure as Fort Knox. Everything was in tip-top condition beneath the peeling paint and cracked plaster. The wood stairs did not creak as expected. T-FLAC ran a well-oiled machine. Vehicles and safe houses were no exception.
“Anyone home?” she said into the comm as they descended the stairs.
“Control room,” Control responded instantly. “Turn right at the foot of the stairs, head down the hall. Fourth door to right.”
Riva took out the comm, sticking it in her hip pocket. “I get to meet Control. Be warned, I might kiss him on the mouth.”
“No tongue. But yeah. Me, too.”
The door snicked as they approached, indicating that Control was locked in and secure. That unseen cameras charted their progress was a given as the door was unlocked before they got to it.
The minute Gideon walked through the door, he felt at home. The windowless room was cool and dimly lit, most of it taken up by a bank of screens showing various operatives in action at several locations. Several high-powered computers hummed quietly.
A giant of a man in a wheelchair talked calmly into his comm. Waving them in, he continued, “Bravo one. Stairs, southwest corner. Four tangos at your three. Five bad guys coming up those stairs. Delta two, bad guy right on your ass— Yeah, got him good. Keep moving south. Charlie, intercept six tangos about to come out and play with Bravo. Bravo one, sending Charlie to you.”
When he turned, Gideon saw the guy’s smile was distorted by a jagged scar across his face so he appeared to be snarling. “Rimaldi.” He held out a hand the size of a ham hock, and Riva’s small hand disappeared inside it for a moment. “Good to see you in one piece.”
He turned slightly in Gideon’s general direction, hand still outstretched, eyes on his monitors. “Darius,” he introduced himself and at the same time adjusted his view of three figures crouched over a device. “Navarro. Sit rep?” Pause. “Any special requests?” He paused again. “Copy that. No, you know that’s not exactly her field of expertise, but we’re working on it.” Pause. “Yeah, copy that. I’m here if you need an
ything.”
“Where do you want me?” Riva asked her control.
God, did she really want to go back into the field mere hours after facing death in real time? Yeah. Gideon supposed she did. She was fearless, his Riva.
Control changed the view on one of the monitors. “You’re off the clock, Rimaldi. We have everything covered for now. We’re just circling the wagons around our bomb techs at the moment. Plenty of bad guys to go around, and plenty enough operatives to do the job. I have you on a flight out tonight at twenty-three hundred.”
Eleven p.m.
Gideon noticed the clocks above the screens. It was now eight p.m. Three hours. Too much happening. Too fucking much that still had to be said to Riva. His heart was already thumping as adrenaline coursed through him; now it picked up speed as it thudded hard against his rib cage. He shot a glance at Riva to see how she was taking the news.
She was glaring at the back of Darius’s head. Darius might have sensed her displeasure, because it rippled off her like lava from a volcano. If he did, he gave no indication. His voice was cool and steady as he gave directions to his operatives.
“Wait!” She gripped the back of Darius’s wheelchair. “What? I call bullshit. I’m not going to be here when we save the day? What kind of freaking punishment is that?”
Darius turned to her, his eyes steady. “Stark. Explain to her that going home isn’t punishment. It’s the reward for making it out alive, and in one piece, and bringing the head tango bagged and tagged to our doorstep to deal with. Go home. Take some R and R, regroup. Job well done.”
“You don’t know me, Control.” Her voice was tight, her features set. “I don’t take R and R, for crapsake, and I never leave until my whole team leaves.” Not giving him a chance to respond to that, she gestured to the complex on the monitors. “Not a bomb set to detonate and wipe out the BRICS Summit?”