by Kathryn Shay
That, and the shelling in the distance, drove her out of her bed. She crossed the living quarters which were coed and self-contained, but not very private with their thin walls and light doors. Snoring came from several rooms, and one or two moans arose intermittently. Medical personnel were subject to nightmares, too. She reached Connor’s ten-by-ten space and stopped. She was on a precipice but she refused to consider the wisdom of what she was doing. Without knocking, she opened the door.
Connor bolted up to a seated position. “Calla? What’s wrong?”
“I want something.”
“What?”
“You.”
He slid out of bed. She could see his naked form silhouetted in the moonlight. He threw on cotton shorts, which wasn’t what she wanted, and came to her. “I’m here.” He gestured at what she held. “Why do you have the blanket?”
“Come with me.”
She led him by the hand to a private space past the outpost where she’d heard other workers say they’d gone to get laid. Apparently Connor recognized it. “Calla, no.”
He knew by now about her virginity, about her arranged marriage. And he was too good a man to violate any of that. “He’ll never accept you after this.”
“I don’t care. I want you, Connor, more than I’ve ever wanted anything else in my life.” She put her head to his chest. “All those girls broken and battered. I can’t get them out of my mind. Make them go away, please.” Reaching up, she looped her arms around his neck. Pressed her body against his. And gave him a siren’s smile. “You want to.”
He practically choked out, “I’ve wanted to for a long time.”
“Then now,” she said, dropping down to spread the blanket.
He knelt on it. “I don’t have any protection.”
She produced a few from her pocket.
“From the medical supplies?”
“Yes. Now, kiss me.”
His mouth came down on hers gently. Too gently. She threw herself into the kiss she’d waited for all her life. His arms clamped around her.
Chapter 9
* * *
At midnight, Calla bolted up in the bed. She was weak-kneed from the feel of Connor’s hand grazing her skin, the pressure from his body, the deep and drugging kisses. Once again she’d created reality in her sleep almost to the last detail.
Beside her, Connor sat up and reached for her. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
“No, don’t. Don’t touch me.”
“All right.” A rustle of the sheets. “Did you have a nightmare?”
“No.”
“Calla, tell me why you’re acting like this.”
“No, go back to sleep.” Please go back to sleep.
“You know I can’t do that. Now face me.”
It came out of her mouth even though she didn’t want it to. “I dreamed about us making love. I still feel your touch, what it was like to have you inside me.”
Letting out a heavy breath, he lay back in the pillows, covered his brow with his forearm and stared up at the ceiling fan.
“But I feel better that Lorenzo was captured,” she went on hurriedly, not wanting to spook him. “I’m sorry. Perhaps staying together like this is counterproductive to what you want.”
A long silence. Then, “I want you.” Hoarsely uttered words, but meaningful all the same.
“I know, Connor. And I want you. But that’s not going to happen.” In an effort to be noble, to be fair, she whipped off the covers. The chill of the night cooled her heated skin. “I can’t be near you now.” When she started to swing her feet over the edge of the mattress, she felt an arm encircle her waist.
Oh, dear Lord in heaven. She was going to do this. She wasn’t strong enough to resist herself and him. Overwhelmingly relieved, and totally ashamed of herself, she fell back into the pillows with him, knowing what was about to take place and unable to stop it. But if she was honest, she’d felt all along there was an overwhelming sense of inevitability surrounding them for days.
Connor braced himself over her, dimly visible in the moonlight peeking through the windows. Though she couldn’t feel the weight of him on her, she could see the outline of his strong shoulders, hear him breathe, smell the scent that was only him. “I want you,” he repeated.
His skin was warm, and so familiar when she reached up and cupped his cheek. “I don’t know how to stop this.”
“You can’t.” He leaned down and kissed her nose. “We never could, right from the very first time.”
He brushed her lips with his. The contact, so sweet and so long-missed, overwhelmed her. “This is good, Calla. Very good.” His words were sweet and whisper-soft.
Totally surrendering, she grasped his neck. Pulled him down. He pressed his lips harder into hers, kissed her more deeply then drew away.
“I’ll be right back.” He slid off the bed and left her. Before she could panic, he returned.
“Is everything all right?” she asked as she came to her knees and sat back on her legs.
He held up the condoms. “Now it will be.” Back on the bed, he slid one of them on.
“You were planning this?”
“No. Whitney again. The box was with the suits. The note on it said, Just in case.
She sighed. Right now, she didn’t care if he used them, but obviously he did. She pushed the thought out of her mind.
Smiling, he sat back against the pillows. “Like before. I want this like before.”
“Anything you want, Connor.” She straddled him. One of the reasons he taught her this position was so he could bury his fingers in her hair. Which he did right away, and sighed. “Ah, tesoro .”
Her eyes clouded at the use of her language.
He whispered, “I should have known. This is too strong, too powerful to stop.”
“We did know.” She kissed his face now, everywhere, lips, cheek, ear, jaw, brow, and ran her hands over his chest, sprinkled with just the right amount of dark hair. “I love how you feel under my mouth and fingers.”
He bit her lip and she startled, then laughed. He soothed the tiny nip with his tongue. “Up on your knees,” he commanded. She rose up and he removed her gown. Smiling at what he bared, he allowed her breasts to spill into his hands. Kneaded them. Massaged them. Her head fell back and she moaned, long and loudly. “I remember the first time I felt this. I thought I might explode.”
“You did.” She could feel his mouth against her skin. He suckled her then and had to hold her still. When his hand slid between them, lower, she went off, like a rocket shooting into the sky. “Connor, oh, God. Con-nor!” The orgasm was long and loud and lusty.
Again this was familiar. “Done?”
“For now.”
She moved off him. He was even more erect when she touched him. His penis pulsed, rose up higher. He lifted his hands to grasp the headboard behind him. She worked him, now, as he’d taught her to do, and brought him to fever pitch.
He came forcefully. He shouted out incoherently. He erupted in pleasure so deep he wanted to stay submerged in it forever.
When he was done, she lay against him. He soothed her hair.
“Remember how we used to time your recovery.”
He grinned. “What was the quickest?”
“Sixty seconds.”
He chuckled.
She laughed.
In sixty seconds, he lifted her up again and brought her onto him. They both stopped. Muffled sounds. “Are you crying?” he asked.
“Yes. Are you?”
“Yes. I missed this.”
“I missed you so much Connor. Like this, being a part of me.”
“I could never have this with another.”
“Me either, Connor. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
And then he started to move.
o0o
After their explosive union and declarations of love, they slept for hours. When they finally awoke, Connor refused another bout of lovemaking until they’d eaten.
In the kitchen, he put thick slabs of bacon on the griddle, cracked eggs into a bowl, whisked them, and put them into a sizzling pan, adding grated cheese. Calla was at the table and was pouring juice. His stomach growled. When the eggs were fluffy, and the bacon crisp, he took the pan off the burner and covered it to check the toast.
And felt arms go around him. “Uh-uh,” he said sternly even as her hand drifted lower. He was easy prey as he wore only boxers. She caressed him beneath his shorts. He languished in it but managed to push her away. A moment later, when he pivoted, what he found shocked him. And made him harder than even before. Calla stood bent over, hands grasping the edge of the counter. Her nightgown was around her waist, her bare bottom sticking out. Sun streamed in from the windows, reminding him they weren’t alone. “Callandra, there are guards everywhere. They could be watching.”
“Then you’d better hurry. I’m ready.”
Even more than her ministrations, her feistiness inflamed him. He slid inside her from behind. She was so wet, he slipped out on the first thrust. Then he adjusted, praying she was ready because there was no way he was going to last. Skin slapped against skin, the sound an aphrodisiac. She spiraled first. Her spasms brought him to the brink and with one more thrust he joined her in starbursts of pleasure.
He drew back and swatted her butt. “Sit now, and behave.” At the stove he tested the eggs. “Jesus,” he said looking over his shoulder “these aren’t even cold yet.”
o0o
There had been no signs of the Secret Service all day. The sun had come out strong so they dressed in shorts and light shirts and hand-in-hand they took to the trails. Neither spoke. Neither wanted to break the spell of happiness surrounding them. Analyzing what happened would kill the magic and they wanted the spell to last for a while longer. When they returned to the house, he said, “Be right back. Get us some water.”
He headed down to his bedroom, turned on faucets in the private bath’s tub, and found some oil in a cabinet. Squirting it into the water, he left again to find Calla.
She was waiting for him on a stool in the kitchen with two glasses of ice water on the counter. “I’ve been making notes. Of the things we like, you know, in sex.”
“Hmm.” He took the list.
Doing it outdoors.
Sex with no intercourse.
Doing it when we might be discovered.
Spending one hour touching and teasing each other.
He had another location on his mind. “Remember what we longed for in Syria? Just for us, selfishly.”
“Cleaner clothes, no insects, and...” Her face brightened “Oh, Con, you started...” She raced down the hall. When he reached the bathroom, the tub was filled and she was kicking off her shoes and going for the hem of her shirt.
“Let me.”
“No, no, I can’t wait. A bath.”
He stilled her motions. “Honey, didn’t you take baths in the last year?”
“No, they reminded me of you. What we promised each other...”
“That we’d always bathe together for the rest of our lives.” That was when she was wavering, talking to him about staying.
Her eyes widened and he saw fear in them, as if she’d had the same thought. “No talk of the past, Con. Not yet.”
He tugged her shirt over her head and unsnapped the lacy yellow bra, which, against her dark skin, stood out. Kneeling, he drew her panties down along with her shorts, then he stood and went for his own. “No way,” she said. “My turn.”
She removed his underwear even faster.
“In the tub, woman.”
“You first. You can get behind me.” Her face was mischievous. “Better access.”
They submerged themselves in ethereal bubbles and the sweet smell of jasmine, lying back on the tub pillow, not moving, sighing with contentment. Then his hands went on a tour of her body: shoulders, back, hips, breasts, waist, to the black curls between her legs. He stopped and cupped her. Ground his hand against her. He separated the folds there, and slid his fingers inside. Until she was writhing. “Now, together,” he ordered.
She moved so fast to straddle him she sloshed water over the side. “That’s okay,” he said holding her hips as he entered her. “We’re gonna lose a lot more water before we’re done here.”
By the time they were finished, an inch covered the floor!
o0o
She sat on the terrace and let the glorious sun beat down on her face, which she slathered with sunscreen so she didn’t burn. She’d picked a book up that she’d left lying around inside and hadn’t yet been read. She’d just turned to page one when the gate creaked open.
She said easily, “Hello, there. I didn’t know you were...”
Before she could finish, he walked toward her and yanked her out of the chair. She twisted her ankle trying to get away from his grasp. “What the hell—”
He reached out and put a cloth over her mouth.
And as her eyes closed, she murmured, “Dio mio.”
o0o
Lorenzo Bertocchi fished from his pocket a phone which, after offering a bribe, he’d talked one of the guards into giving him and leaving him unbound to make a call. He punched in the familiar number.
“Yeah?”
“Do you have her?”
“Yep. I got her just now.”
“Are you on your way back?”
“As we speak.”
“Good.”
o0o
“Hello.”
“C-Calla, it’s Brie.”
“How nice to hear...you don’t sound right, sweetie.” She put the call on speaker as she motioned Connor over from where he was fiddling with the sound system.
“Somebody took me, Calla.”
Mumbles in the background. “Tell her then hang up!”
“What do you mean, took you?”
Connor knelt before her and grasped her free hand.
“Someone—”
A slap. A cry. A muffled sound, then a voice.
Calla screamed, “Gabriella!”
“Lorenzo says if you go home, he’ll free me.”
“Lorenzo can’t have taken you. Papá has him in custody.
“Don’t go Calla. Don’t trust...”
The phone went dead. She dropped it in her lap.
Shock reverberated through her whole body. “Brie? He’s got Brie? How did he do this?”
“Vittorino.”
She gripped his hand in a vise. “What if something happens to her? I could never live with that.”
“I understand, honey.” He took the phone and punched in a number, keeping it on speaker.
Calla heard a few rings.
“Hello.”
“Whitney, it’s Connor.”
“Hey, good news that they captured Bertocchi, isn’t it?”
“Something else happened. Calla got a call that Gabriella has been abducted.”
“What?”
He explained the situation. “I don’t know what to do, Whit.”
“Sit tight. We’ll be there in an hour.”
Despite Whitney’s assurance, tears coursed down Calla’s cheeks. Everything in the world dimmed. How, how, was she going to save her sister?
o0o
Renata insisted she go with Alessio when he was ready to question Lorenzo. Weary, disheveled because he’d physically restrained the man himself, her husband finally agreed. She hated Bertocchi so much she actually thought about bringing a gun and shooting him, but she didn’t.
As they walked down to another level of the palace, Alessio held her hand and she let him. A short distance away from the secure room, he stopped. Gently, he grasped her other hand, too. “I don’t think this is a wise idea, tesoro mio.”
“I have to hear for myself what he’s up to. I have to see him face-to-face. I want him to know he doesn’t frighten us and we will have our vengeance.”
They reached the room. The space was impenetrable, made for men like him who couldn’t be allowed
in civilized society. Two guards had followed them from upstairs and two more were stationed at the door. Inside, they found Lorenzo seated on a chair. He seemed relaxed for a man who’d been arrested. Big, bulky and olive-skinned—now he was ugly to Renata—he looked up when they entered.
“Alessio...Renata.”
From the doorway, Renata raised her chin. “It’s Your Highnesses to you.”
“Stay back.” Alessio put his hand out to stop her from coming as he crossed to the chair. He towered over Bertocchi. In a voice as cold as death, he said, “I should kill you right now.”
Bertocchi stood, his hands tied behind his back, and faced her husband with bravado. “You probably should, but you won’t.”
Chills skittered up Renata’s spine. Something was off here. There was a smirk on his face and a confidence in his tone. She came up behind her husband. “How can you be so sure, bastardo ?”
His bushy brows rose. “Because I have your daughter.”
“Liar,” Renata spat out. “I spoke with Callandra only moments ago.” Her voice was strong, but she had a bad feeling about this.
“Not Callandra. Gabriella.”
Renata’s whole body stiffened. “What?”
“Right at this moment, Adolfo Vittorino has her stashed away. If you kill me, he will kill her.”
Red spots swam before Renata’s eyes. She launched herself at him. Out of control now, she scratched his face and kneed him in the groin sending him to the ground howling like a kicked dog.
In a haze of hate, she was hardly aware that Alessio grabbed for her. He said gently, “Come, my love. He isn’t worth it.”
Renata’s gaze cleared and she saw Lorenzo was bleeding like a clawed cat, angry red marks on his face.
Alessio turned a venomous gaze on Bertocchi. “You’re crazy if you think I’ll trade one daughter for another.”
“That is not what I want.”