by Cherry Adair
"No, stay put. I got this." No way to get his foot on the accelerator, but his grip over her hands was enough to adroitly steer the car once she stopped fighting him.
"Don't freak out," he told her calmly, seeing the stark fear on her face as a bullet passed between their heads to shatter the windshield a mere arm’s-length in front of their faces. Instantly the safety glass exploded, rendering visibility zero.
"Who are you talking to? God or me? Oh, shit!" she cried as he levered himself out of the passenger seat and extricated his good leg. "What the hell are you doing?"
Fingers still clamped tightly over hers, his bum leg screaming for mercy, Daklin kicked out the frame of the windshield. The fragmented panel of glass didn’t break off cleanly. Instead, it stayed hinged at the bottom and bounced on the hood of the car, but at least he had a clear view of the road ahead.
"What are you? Some kind of ninja priest?”
Daklin maneuvered his body back into the small bucket seat as fast as he could, given the confined space and the agony in his leg. It was sheer luck the guards on the gates hadn't hit them. Bullets came so close to his head, he felt them pass and heard their whine.
"Hands off the wheel," he yelled as a barrage of bullets struck various parts of the car.
His men hadn't been kidding when they said the mine’s security team was top notch. They were hitting everything but the two people inside the moving vehicle. "I've got it," he yelled over the loud bangs, screeches, and percussion of bullets hitting metal. "Go! Go! Go!"
Sliding her hands from beneath his one at a time, River gripped them together in her lap. Her foot on the gas, his hands steering. "She won't go any faster!"
A hail of bullets hit the trunk. Loud and dramatic. She recoiled, then hunching her shoulders.
Her pale, whipping hair was a perfect target. He took one hand off the wheel to push down on the top of her head. "Slouch down as low as you can."
River wriggled to reposition herself, in the process inadvertently rubbing her breasts against his arm. Daklin laughed.
"You're enjoying this?!"
"It has its perks," he said, voice dry. No way for her to crouch completely out of sight. No room. "Duck and come up between my arms." It was tricky in a fast moving little convertible, but after a couple of heartbeats, she maneuvered between his outstretched arms until her head was tucked beneath his chin. "Good girl, almost out of range."
"Why—?" Her breath felt hot through his damp T-shirt, right over his heart. "Who—-? Never mind."
Strands of silky, sunny hair lashed his jaw. It smelled like summer rain and flowers. "Two more turns. We'll be out of range. They won't be able to see us." Unless they were in a vehicle chasing them down. "Another mile and a half to the tree line. What's protocol?" he asked into his comm. "Give chase or repel?" He was met with dead air. The others were out of range.
A mile and a half with targets painted on their backs.
Another hail of bullets struck the back of car as they approached the bend leading to the bridge. The trunk, the side panel, the back seat, his side mirror. Chunks of metal, glass, rubber, and leather flew. Eyes narrowed against the wind, he kept going, protecting River with his body as they drove as fast as the car was capable of going.
His death would be premature and inglorious. River's death was unacceptable.
"Should I—-?"
"No." Whatever it was she was asking they couldn't stop. Couldn't slow down. She couldn't sit up. He didn't need her help.
Almost home free... The convertible skittered sideways as the left rear tire blew out. "Fuck." Daklin fought for control of the car from his position in the passenger seat as she automatically took her foot off the pedal. "No! Foot back on the accelerator, don't slow down."
Returning her foot to the gas immediately, the car jerked back to full speed. "Good girl."
The sky opened, and it started to rain. Fat drops poured over them in a hard shower. The strength of the deluge was powerful enough to bend branches almost to the ground, and whip leaves and flowers as if they were in a dishwasher. Daklin blinked muddy water out of his eyes, and peered down the road through a thick gray curtain.
"Murphy's Law in full effect!" River shouted against the drumming sound of water pounding them, the vehicle, and the road. "Can you see to drive?"
Barely. The road itself was a shade darker than the pounding deluge. "Want me to pull over until it stops?" he yelled, being facetious. The tires slithered in a pool of water sheeting the tarmac, and he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel.
"Sure, if you see a gas station."
Because she sounded so damned pithy, Daklin smiled despite his fear that she'd be the one hurt if this turned to even more shit.
A stash of weapons and ammo, explosives, and comms, ready for tonight, was hidden where he and his men had parked earlier. He could hold off an army from there if necessary. The arterial dirt road, which led to the strip mine where they'd hidden the truck earlier, was coming up fast on the left. It was veer off now, or limp back into town possibly with the bad guys hot on their asses.
Now. Wrenching the steering wheel a hard left, Daklin drove the car straight for the bushes. Branches and leaves slapped at his head and shoulders, wet leaves rained down on them as they bumped and lurched through the heavy underbrush. They'd covered their tracks coming and going in the truck earlier, and Daklin forged the same path over logs, rocks, and slick mud, deeper into the jungle. Thick vegetation closed behind them. A visually impenetrable green wall closed them off from the road.
Sounding like sharp nails on a blackboard, small branches raked the paintwork. The sound blended in a discordant chorus with indignant cries of two roosting green yellow crown parrots, which swooped inches from their heads to fly, squawking, higher into the trees.
Daklin held up his arm to protect River's head as the car swept aside dense foliage in its plunge deeper into the undergrowth. A small troop of red howler monkeys launched themselves to a higher, safer perch, screeching as they hurled themselves from branch to branch.
"Foot off the pedal!" he shouted.
Listing, the small car came to a shuddering stop with the front end buried deep inside a dense, small-leafed, acid-green shrub. The thick vegetation surrounding them blocked some of the rain, leaving them in a dim, green cavernous thicket.
Daklin turned off the engine. It pinged and popped as River's warm, moist breath penetrated his T-shirt. The hot, sweaty, summer rain scent of her fogged his brain. His erection was instantaneous. Or hell, perhaps it hadn't subsided in the past twenty-four hours.
For someone usually animated and opinionated, she sat as if frozen. Being shot at would scare anyone not used to that kind of violence. He brushed a tender kiss over the crown of her bowed head, still nestled on his chest. "It's okay. No one can see us here."
"There's a snake in my lap," she said quietly, barely breathing.
He went hot, cold, then hot as he looked down. Indeed, beside a small broken branch from the trees they just crashed through, a two and a half foot long green tree viper, with its distinct orange ventrolateral stripe, lay draped over her jean-clad thigh.
Fucking hell.
Grabbing the snake around its middle, Daklin flung its writhing coils back into the underbrush.
Holy Christ. Several years ago, he'd been bitten by a viper while on an op in Burma. Its potent hemotoxin had felt like a branding iron burning into his upper back. It had hurt like the fires of hell. Aside from his assorted dings and dents, he had a divot in his back where one of his men had dug out the necrosis and saved his life.
Dropping his hand from the wheel, he ran his fingers over her thigh as he did a visual inspection of her leg. No puncture marks that he could see. No blood. Not breathing, he pressed two fingers hard into the taut muscles, then walked them up her leg almost to the juncture of her thighs. He felt the heat of her there, and was furious with himself for being horny, and wanting her this badly when she might be fatally wounded.
"Does this hurt?"
River had turned to watch the snake’s trajectory as she responded, "Uh-uh." She waited until it had landed soundlessly out of sight before she twisted her head to look up at him. "Not poisonous, right?"
There wasn't a damn thing, flora, fauna, or man, in the Cosian jungles that couldn't kill. Daklin found his heart in his throat, a fear he'd never felt for himself while on an op.
Her tilted face made it almost impossible not to close the few inches’ gap to kiss her. As he looked in her clear, brave eyes, he had the sudden feeling that all truths needed to be told.
Unnecessary. She'd be gone in an hour.
"Did it bite you?" He found he had to push the words out of his restricted throat. The last time he'd felt fear like this was the fateful night Josh called.
Wide-eyed, she stayed silent. "River? Did you feel a sharp sting? Pressure? Pain. Heat? Anything at all?" Symptoms would appear within minutes of a bite. The pain would come first, intense enough that he wouldn't need to ask.
"No."
He could feel her heartbeat as she leaned against him. Rapid with fear. "Then it wasn't poisonous."
“Meaning if it had bitten me..."
Lightheaded, he rested his cheek on her hair. “Lethal.”
Letting out a shaky breath, she ran her fingers over her thigh where he'd touched her. When she was done with her own inspection, she turned her head. Their faces were inches apart. Close enough for Daklin to notice the intriguing flecks of dark blue in the gray smoke of her eyes. They shone, not with fear, but with high adrenaline.
He got it. His own heart was pumping at double speed, and he was wired with a flood of adrenalin that had fuck-all to do with being shot at. That he was used to.
"No holes," she assured him, her voice husky. She didn’t look around to see where they were, just sat upright inside the circle of his arms, her spikey-lashed gaze fixed on his face. Water sluiced her skin, making it look as delicate and glowing as pink pearl. With her pale hair plastered to her head, the pure oval of her face gave her a delicate appearance at odds with the fierce, determined woman he knew her to be. "Are we safe here?"
Daklin's gaze dropped to her slightly parted lips. “From the men who were shooting at us, yeah.” The insidious, gnawing hunger that had been building inside him since he'd first laid eyes on her surged through him. "What the fuck am I going to do about you?" His voice was low, nothing but gravel and greed.
"That depends on how much instruction you might need. Have you always been celibate, Bishop Daklin?"
"Are you asking if I want you, or if I know how to do what I want to do to you, Miss Sullivan?"
Twisting in her seat to face him fully, River's eyes remained steady on his face. "Either. Both. Do you?"
He took her hand, pulling it to his lap and placing it on his throbbing erection. "Does this answer the question?
"One of them. For the other, I’m willing to provide a tutorial, if necessary.” The hunger in her eyes matched his own, while the teasing tone of her voice captivated him. “Are you going to remember you're Bishop Daklin and make a hasty retreat again?"
"I know exactly who I am, and who I'm not."
"You're no bishop." Not quite a question.
"If I was, I'd be in deep trouble with you around. I wouldn’t allow myself to fall into this...situation."
"Thank God," she said with feeling. "I was afraid if I seduced you, I'd be smote."
Daklin grinned. "Smote?"
"Sent to hell in a handbasket," she whispered breathlessly. "But so worth—"
Daklin kissed her. Hard.
#
Breathless, every hair follicle on her body quivering with need, River barely had time to drag in a sip of air before he ravished her mouth. Goosebumps raced across her skin as Ash's hot, slick tongue swept hungrily inside to tangle with hers.
Calling the abrupt assault a kiss was too tame. Too civilized. This was thunder. Cymbals. Drums. She went deaf and blind. A surge of intense heat swept through her as their mouths joined, the locking of lips shocking in its intensity. The glide of his tongue, the sharp nip of his teeth, resonated through every fiber of her body as if he were electrically charged and her body could do nothing but let his unleashed energy surge through her every cell.
Wrapping her arms around his neck dislodged his hands from her face, but he put them to better use as he attempted to get her out of her jacket and T-shirt at the same time. Mouths still locked, she tried to help him get one jacket sleeve off her shoulder, and tug it over her hand.
Asher came up for air, his eyes glazed. "Jesus."
Jacket off, T-shirt shoved up under her chin, she wiggled up on her knees, thigh pressed against the center console and the hard gearshift. "More," she demanded, pulling his mouth back to hers.
She wanted his hands. On her bare skin. On her. In her. Not willing to break the lip lock, she gripped his strong nape to pull his mouth back to hers.
River imagined the pounding rain of the early morning shower was turning to steam as it hit their overheated bodies. The sluicing water on her skin added to the entire sensory experience and she reveled in the juxtaposition of hot and cold, silky liquid and calloused fingers, fighting her own need and fulfilling his.
Fire and longing licked along her nerve endings, spreading like wildfire through her body. When he slid a large, calloused hand beneath her T-shirt to close over her breast, her entire body shuddered. Dear God, she'd never felt anything this intense in her life.
River arched into the hard cup of his fingers. He skimmed a fingertip under the Chantilly lace edge of her demi-bra. "El soplo." She whispered the name of the bra brokenly against his mouth when she had to break away to suck air into her burning lungs. Breathing was overrated. She combed her fingers through his wet hair at his nape.
"A breath? God, I can't catch mine. What is this made of? Fairy wings?" His blue eyes were all pupil as he took in the stretchy georgette silk and lace barely covering the swells of her breasts. The deep pink of her erect nipples wasn't hidden at all behind the sheer, misty pale blue fabric of her rain-soaked bra. With a groan, he lowered his head to draw one tight bud into the heated cavern of his mouth.
Throwing back her head, River raked her fingernails down his nape, reveling when he shuddered. She did it again.
Dragging her other hand down his chest, she felt the furnace of his skin through the damp, muddy fabric of his T-shirt, and the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath her fingers.
Rain spiked his lashes, caught in the stubble on his jaw, glued his clothes to his body, but did nothing to cool her down.
The small bucket seats, hell, the size of the interior of the convertible, weren't exactly conducive to any of this, but she didn’t give a damn as she shoved up his shirt to get it out of the way. His skin was hot, silky, vibrantly alive. A happy trail of crisp dark hair arrowed down to disappear beneath his black pants.
She wanted to taste him, consume him. Wanted to feel skin on naked skin. Feel his roughness against her smoothness, feel his heat against her own burning flesh.
Through the wet fabric, he pinched her nipple. It was so sharp, so exquisite that River almost came out of her seat. She almost came, period. Dropping her head to his shoulder, she buried her face against his wet neck, her lungs laboring for air and heavy raindrops blurred her vision. He found the delicate bra clasp in back.
Her freed breasts cooled with the kiss of the rain and she arched back like a pagan jungle goddess, face and breasts upturned to welcome the warm drumbeat of the tropical shower.
Ash bent his head, and River shuddered at the sharp nip as he closed his teeth around an erect nipple. The sensation drove straight to her womb.
"Stop." To her own ears, her voice sounded faint, weak, tremulous. Not lifting his head, nor unclasping the delicate nip of his strong white teeth, Ash looked up at her through spiky, black lashes. Eyes unfocused, he mumbled, "Huh?"
River leaned back, out of reach, and he lifted his head, narrow
eyes glittering. "Too far! Get your pants off, down, out of my way," she instructed without losing eye contact. "Hurry."
Her fingers felt thick, clumsy, and damned uncooperative as she fumbled with the recalcitrant damp drawstring at her waist, all the while watching his every move like a mongoose watching a snake. "Faster!"
Lifting his butt, Ash unzipped his pants, shoved them down his legs. His penis, thick and long, pulsed with life. She gave a little scream as she reached for the prize with an eager hand. The muscles in his arms flexed when he yanked her from her knees to hoist her over the center gearshift so her knees bracketed his hips and her crotch straddled his.
A flash of the mangled flesh on his thigh caught her eye. Gnarled and pink, an old scar, the injury too horrific to contemplate. Then she was open and astride his lap, her own thigh covering his. Bare flesh to bare flesh, their legs constricted by the confined foot well, and the binding of their pants.
Heat. Hardness. Their eyes locked. Nothing else in the world existed for them but this moment.
Strong hands on her hips, Ash plunged her onto the hard spear of his penis, seating himself in her balls deep. She gasped with the sudden, overwhelming sensation of complete fullness.
With each surge and thrust, she forgot to breathe as the intensity built and built. Each slick stroke made her hotter. Sweat mingled with a drop of rain and trickled down her temple. Her shallow breath hitched. "Dear God."
Digging nails into the soaking wet fabric of his T-shirt, River's back arched and the muscles in her throat strained as he pumped his hips, and she met each hard thrust. She was one giant nerve ending trembling on a precipice. It was terrifyingly thrilling. Unprecedented. The biggest, most thrilling roller coaster ride of her life.
He swiveled his hips and she writhed, moaning, frantic for relief. But not wanting it to end.
Groaning, he looked at her, eyes heavy-lidded with lust. “Okay?” His arms tightened around her, and he fanned a large hand on the small of her back, his smile gentle but strained. She realized he was gritting his teeth as he waited.