The Heart Has Reasons

by Martine Marchand

  A surge of electric heat contracted her nipples, and she jerked away. “Don’t!”

  He hauled her to him again. “So, it’s okay for you to fondle me, but not okay for me to simply hold you? That’s a very sexist attitude.”

  “Don’t make jokes, it’s not funny.” Tension settled deep in her pelvis, while a trembling born of equal parts fear and desire invaded her body. She hated him — she did! — even though her body refuted this. “Let go of me!”

  “Shut up and be still,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her neck. “We discussed this earlier. I wouldn’t do anything even if you wanted me to.”

  “As if.”

  “To be honest, when you fondled me, I thought you’d finally decided to seduce me.”

  “Finally decided?” she spluttered. “You’re freaking delusional. Why the hell would I do such a thing?”

  “To persuade me to let you go. Don’t tell me you haven’t considered it.”

  Could the man read her mind? “I certainly have not.”

  “Liar. You hesitated before answering.”

  “All right, I briefly considered the idea, before realizing it’d be a waste of time and effort. You wouldn’t let me go.”

  “I’m glad we both agree on that.”

  “Besides, the very idea disgusts me.”

  “I find the word ‘disgust’ to be rather severe, not to mention insulting.” He leaned into her and bit the back of her neck, his teeth scraping across her skin.

  A shudder that was just shy of orgasm rippled the length her body. “Don’t do that!”

  He chuckled. “Too disgusting?”

  “Shut up. You’re such an asshole.” She stiffened as he pulled her even closer. The steady beat of his heart pulsed warmly against her back. “Do you really expect me to believe that you’d refuse to have sex with me?”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “Now who’s the liar?” she asked, slightly miffed. “If you’re trying to use reverse psychology, it won’t work.”

  “That’s not my intention. Under the circumstances, it would be reprehensible for me to have sex with you. You wouldn’t be doing it because you wanted to, but because you felt you had to, and I’d never make love to a woman under those conditions. A man has to hold himself to a certain code of conduct.”

  “Oh.”

  “Although I have noticed you eyeing my body.”

  “Yeah, too bad I can’t be more like you and keep my eyes to myself.”

  “I freely admit to looking at you. Were the situation different, I’d do more than just look. A lot more.”

  The thought of what exactly he might do caused her breath to catch in her throat. “Move over!”

  “No.” When she tried to break free from his embrace, his arms tightened about her. “If we get into another wrestling match, I’m not sure how much self-control I’ll have. Actually, that’s not quite true. After having been so provocatively fondled, I can pretty much guarantee I won’t have any.”

  “You’re such an asshole.”

  “Surprisingly, you’re not the first woman to tell me that.” He shifted, forming his body to fit tighter to her curves. “I’m simply trying to keep us both warm. Go back to sleep.”

  The storm had brought cooler air with it and, sometime during the night, the power had been restored. With the air conditioner running again, it was cool in the room. She decided to make one last pro forma protest. “If you’re cold, then get up and turn off the air conditioner.”

  “This is so much nicer.”

  Realizing the futility of further argument, she finally relaxed and eased back into his warmth, yielding to the need for physical comfort. His arm tightened about her and their chests rose and fell in unison as she concentrated on trying to slow the rapid beating of her heart.

  Despite the disquieting annoyance of his erection pressed against her buttocks, the bastard was right. This was much nicer. There was a rightness to the feel of his embrace, as if it were meant to be.

  His hand rested lightly against her breast, making her nipple strain for attention. She interlaced her fingers with his and shifted the hand slightly away. His warm breath stirred the hair on the back of her neck and set off little charges along her nerve endings as he whispered, “Larissa?”

  “Yes?”

  “I wish we could have met under different circumstances.”

  As she drifted back into sleep, she unconsciously molded her body to him further, thinking, I wish we had, too.

  CHAPTER 13

  That morning, while Larissa showered, it occurred to her that she had no memory of him ever refueling the van. That meant he was stopping soon after leaving the motels, while she was still asleep in the back. There’d be people at gas stations, and he never gagged her while they were on the road.

  Her heart was thumping in her chest when she exited the bathroom. As she ate her usual bowl of cereal, she concentrated on keeping her eyelids at half-mast and making her movements slow and lethargic. When she finished her cereal, she pushed the bowl away, folded her arms on the table, and dropped her head onto them, feigning sleep.

  He left her that way as he quickly loaded the van, and then he was shaking her gently. “Larissa, it’s time to go.”

  Deliberately moving like a zombie, she allowed him to lead her out the door and into the van. She crawled inside and collapsed onto her stomach, face turned away from the door as she concentrated on breathing slowly and deeply.

  When he had finished securing her, he draped the cotton blanket over her. “Larissa?” Her heart was racing so fast that, if he checked her pulse he’d know she was faking. He repeated her name, a little louder this time. Apparently satisfied, he backed out of the van, slid the door closed, and locked it.

  * * * * *

  Although mist cloaked the parking lot, Chase was grateful the rain had finally abated. To the east, a thin red line divided the black of the horizon from the dark gray of the sky. The windows of the motel office glowed with light, but the door was locked and there was no sign of the clerk. He dropped the key through the mail slot in the door, and climbed into the driver’s seat.

  After Larissa had awakened in the middle of the night, he’d assumed she was building a tolerance for the sleeping pills. Apparently this assumption was incorrect because, as usual, she was sound asleep. Jesus, after she’d fondled him, it had tested every ounce of willpower he possessed not to ravish her.

  On a lonely stretch of highway in the middle of nowhere, he pulled into a truck stop. Dawn was just breaking, giving the sky a thin blue translucence as the surrounding landscape slowly emerged from the night. Very gently so as not to wake her, he eased the vehicle to a halt at the gas pump farthest from the glass-and-concrete cashier’s booth. The only other vehicle, presumably the cashier’s, was parked in a far corner. He got out and pushed the door closed with a soft click.

  He fit the nozzle into the gas tank and, as gas pumped into the tank, stood with hands on hips, enjoying the rain-freshened air. The morning was quiet, save for the occasional splat of rain droplets falling from the edge of the sheltering roof high overhead and the ticking of the cooling engine. Somewhere beyond the bright artificial lights of the gas station, a songbird warbled a greeting to the coming dawn.

  Far down the highway, he spotted a pair of approaching headlights. Soon he could see that it was a semi tractor-trailer. Just as he was hoping the driver would keep going down the road, the right turn signal came on.

  Although Chase held his breath as it made a wide, rumbling turn onto the lot, he wasn’t overly worried. Larissa had slept through much noisier fuel stops.

  And then the piercing scream erupted from the van.

  Jolting into motion, he wrenched open the driver’s door, and the decibel level of the screams seemed to increase tenfold, reverberating inside the enclosed vehicle. Slamming the door closed behind him, he grabbed the ski mask and yanked it on as the screaming continued, high, shrill, and nerve rending, making every hair on
his body stand on end. The semi driver was circling around to the diesel pumps and luckily his windows were up.

  Launching himself between the seats, he clapped a hand over Larissa’s mouth. The ensuing silence was so profound he felt as if he had gone deaf. She thrashed about wildly, trying to sink her teeth into his hand as he frantically groped for the gag.

  He finally managed to shove it into her mouth and fasten the Velcro behind her neck. “Until now I’ve gone easy on you, but this is the last fucking straw. I’m taking my belt to your ass for this.” After double-checking her bindings, he climbed back between the seats, removed the ski mask, and exited the van.

  His heart was rattling crazily inside his chest. Drawing upon years of training and experience, he shoved his fear down, forcing it to congeal into an icy calm. The semi driver was standing beside his vehicle as diesel pumped into his tank. His calm demeanor suggested he was aware of nothing amiss, so he’d apparently heard nothing over the rumble of his own engine.

  But what about the cashier?

  The van’s gas tank was now full and the gas nozzle had automatically shut off. He replaced the nozzle on the pump, screwed on the gas cap, and squished across the parking lot to the cashier’s booth.

  Behind the thick Plexiglas, a young, round-faced Native American woman was nodding her head in time to music. She looked up at his approach, removed the earbuds, and gave him a smile that appeared sincere. “Did you get caught in the storm last night?”

  His muscles loosened as a flood of relief flowed through him. Giving her a genial smile in return, he passed seven twenties under the lower edge of the Plexiglas. “I stopped for the night just as it started.”

  She slid his change back through the slot with a cheerful “Have a safe one.”

  He got back into the vehicle and jammed the keys into the ignition with such force that he nearly broke off the key when he cranked it on. As he pulled out onto the highway, Larissa uttered, “Mmmph. Mmmph!”

  “Shut the fuck up! That was incredibly stupid. Do you really want to get innocent bystanders killed?”

  She drummed her heels on the floor of the cargo area. “Mmmph!”

  “If you’re trying to say that you want the gag removed, you can forget it. From now on, excepting meals, you’ll wear it twenty-four-seven. And I meant what I said about taking my belt to your ass. I should have done so long before now.”

  From behind him came a sound like a sob. “If you start crying, I’ll double the number of strokes I’m planning on giving you.”

  A little after noon, he pulled off the highway, found a secluded spot on a side road, and stopped in the sparse shade thrown by a small copse of trees. After donning the ski mask, he climbed into the back and released her.

  She scooted away from him to press her back against the rear of the driver’s seat. Watching him with wide, frightened eyes, she reached back to remove the gag, then opened and closed her mouth several times, massaging her jaw. “You’re not going to beat me now, are you?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. There’s not enough room in here to swing a belt. And besides, if I were planning to whip you now, you’d still be wearing the gag.”

  She was quiet and sullen as she ate the peanut butter sandwich, refusing even to look at him. Finally, forehead creased with worry, she broke the heavy silence to ask, “You’re not really going to whip me, are you?”

  He was not going to do so, of course. He already severely regretted putting her through this ordeal, not to mention that her husband would be understandably irate if he were to lay a hand on her. However, it wouldn’t hurt to let her stew for a while. “I am.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you have to be taught a lesson.”

  “If you’d been taken prisoner in Afghanistan, would you have tried to escape?”

  “Of course. But I also would have expected some form of retribution if unsuccessful.”

  “So I should simply resign myself to my fate and play the passive victim while you deliver me to my death.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying, and I am not delivering you to your death. Larissa, you know goddamn well who I’m delivering you to.”

  “You’re right, I do. But I can’t help but wonder who you think you’re delivering me to.” After a bit, she asked, “What if I promise never to do it again?”

  “We both know that, under the circumstances, your word is no good and you’ve proven time and time again you can’t be trusted.”

  “How can you say that? I’ve been a model prisoner.” When he laughed, her face shadowed. “You’re not really going to whip me, are you?”

  “You’ve left me no choice.”

  “Maybe we can make some kind of deal.”

  “Like what?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  He cocked a brow at her. “Are you offering me sex?”

  “I’m offering whatever it’ll take to keep you from whipping me.”

  “Your offer is generous, as well as tempting, but I’m afraid I must decline.”

  “Please don’t whip me.”

  He knew it was a mistake to capitulate so quickly, but those green eyes brimming with tears tore at his soul. “Oh, Jesus! All right.”

  She blinked several times, eyes alight with sudden hope. “You promise?”

  “I do. But if you ever pull a stunt like that again, I’ll blister your ass so badly you won’t be able to sit for a week.”

  “Deal.”

  He let her out of the vehicle just long enough to relieve herself. Once he had her secured again inside the vehicle, her eyes widened in surprise when he picked up the gag. “What are you doing?”

  “What do you think? Open your mouth.”

  “But we had a deal!”

  “I promised not to whip you. I never said anything about not gagging you.” When he tried to put it in her mouth, she wrenched her head to the side. “Goddamn it, Larissa. Didn’t you stop to think about the consequences of your actions this morning?”

  “I can’t wear it all freaking day. I can hardly bear it for the short time it takes you to shower. Ple-e-e-ase don’t make me wear it.”

  “I let you talk me out of the beating. I’m not budging on this.”

  When he tried to force it into her mouth, she sputtered, “I’ll take the whipping instead!”

  He paused. “After all that pleading you did, now you’re telling me you’d rather have the whipping than to wear the gag?”

  Her tongue slid across her plump bottom lip in a way that made his cock take notice. “Yes.”

  He gave her a calculating look. “I’d be a fool to make a deal like that. We both know that as soon I start to take my belt to you, you’ll be crying and begging me not to.”

  “I promise I won’t. My word of honor. Well, I might cry, but I won’t try to talk you out of it and I won’t put up a fight. Just please don’t make me wear the gag.”

  “If I whip you, I’m going to gag you, tie you face down on the bed, and pull your pants down to your knees.”

  She stilled, clearly weighing her options. “How many strokes?”

  “Ten should be sufficient.”

  She winced. Chase watched as some inner struggle played across her face, and then, finally, she nodded. “Okay. I agree.”

  Incredulous, he said, “You’d prefer ten lashes to wearing the gag?” When she nodded, he shrugged and set the gag aside. “All right. It’s your ass.”

  * * * * *

  Once they were back on the highway, her voice came from behind the curtain, “Are you going to enjoy whipping me?”

  “Since you’ve been such a royal pain in the ass, I probably will.”

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “Are you hoping for twenty lashes?”

  There was no response.

  After nearly a half hour of silence, he said, “Larissa? You’re very quiet back there.”

  “I’m thinking.”

  “About what.”

  “You.”

&
nbsp; The honesty of her answer threw him for a moment. “What about me?”

  “Just trying to figure you out. Most men wouldn’t turn down an offer of sex, or be able to share a bed with a woman without trying something.”

  “I’m not most men.”

  “Clearly. Did you get used to doing without sex while you were in Afghanistan?”

  “What makes you think I did without?”

  “Well … since it’s an Islamic country, I’m assuming the Afghan women would be off limits.”

  “There are numerous American and European women there: Women soldiers, helicopter pilots, journalists, doctors, CIA officers.”

  “I had no idea. So, you’re saying you were never lonely?”

  “No. I’m saying I didn’t spend long periods of time celibate.”

  “Most men wouldn’t grasp the distinction between the two.”

  “I thought we’d already agreed that I’m not most men.”

  After a moment’s silence, she said, “Tell me about Afghanistan. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I’m really not even sure why we’re over there.”

  Chase hesitated before answering. Although she knew he’d served in Afghanistan, she’d probably assumed he’d been a simple soldier — one of tens of thousands — so as long as he didn’t reveal that he’d been Special Forces, he couldn’t see what harm it would do to talk about it.

  “You first have to understand that Afghanistan is a land that has rarely known peace. For centuries, rival governments, factions, tribes, and warlords have fought for control of the country, and the Afghans fought two wars against the British. Then, in 1979, the Soviets invaded. You may have heard of a Saudi Arabian guy by the name of Usama bin Laden.”

  “Of course.”

  “Bin Laden developed an Islamic charity to support the Afghans in their war against the Soviets. He rallied thirty-thousand anti-communist Islamic volunteer fighters, all fuelled by the Koranic imperative to jihad. This organization eventually became known as al Qaeda.

  “Afghanistan was at war with the Soviets for ten years. Once the Soviets were finally routed, the seven major mujahidin factions descended into a bitter civil war for control of the country.”