by Justine Davis, Amy J. Fetzer, Katherine Garbera, Meredith Fletcher, Catherine Mann
Rest. That sounded good. She slid on her own sunglasses and tipped her head back against the seat. Elbow hooked out the open window, she let the wind and miles blur into the fog. She had no idea how long she drifted before she jolted awake.
She straightened, looked, found her exit passing—“That was my turnoff.”
“We’re going to my place.”
Irritation feathered through the fog. “I’m not much in the mood for sex.”
He glanced over, her face reflected in his sunglasses. “Who’s offering? Because I’m sure as hell not in the mood, either.”
“Oh.”
He shifted front again. “I thought you might not want to be alone in your condo.”
Of course he could read her mind about this. How could she have forgotten what had happened to him three years ago? The man had most definitely walked this walk. The past few days must have been hell for him.
And in that realization, she linked with him enough to relax at least a little. “You’re right. Thank you—again.”
He lowered the top as he cleared the city out onto the open roads where Joshua trees led to his remote home. The wind felt good ripping at the constraints of her French braid, swirling inside her to stir words she would have sworn earlier that she didn’t want to say. “I thought I understood how my mother must have felt when the crash in her project killed a pilot. I was so damned wrong to assume anything.”
“There’s no way to know it unless you live it.”
“It’s enough to make a person crazy.” Understanding her mother brought a fresh wave of pain.
“Yes, it is.” His bass drawl resonated long beyond the simple statement.
She abandoned mindless desert sight-seeing and glanced back at him. “How did you stay sane?”
“What makes you think I’m sane?” He peered over the top of his sunglasses, eyes again the barely civilized Diego she knew.
“Fair enough.” Who knew what sane was anymore? She picked at the hem of her uniform, snapping a thread free. “How do you keep going then?”
Telephone poles whipped past again and again before his chest rose with an inhale. “I’m still trying to figure that one out. And somehow, while I’m trying, the years continue to pass.”
She nodded. What he said made sense.
But for now, she would settle for getting through the night.
Stuck in the sleepy fog of being half awake and half asleep, Josie batted at the tickle on her face. She snuggled deeper under the covers, not sure why she didn’t want to wake up, but certain if she considered it overlong she would be sorry.
The tickle—furry—continued against her cheek and grew more persistent, followed by a wet nudge to her chin. She pried her eyes open and stared straight into the translucent blue eyes of the ugliest dog ever. The mix of mutt and wolf left the animal with spiky fur and mismatched features that would have scared the hell out of most people.
Somehow she found it endearing.
Josie sagged back onto her pillow in Diego’s bed, where she’d slept alone except for the two dogs keeping her company. She turned to look at the empty pillow beside her. Not even an imprint marred the plain white pillowcase. Definitely alone.
Memories steamed into her brain of the crash, funeral, ride home with Diego. She’d been so zombielike yesterday she hadn’t even argued about staying with him.
Scooching up to sit, she wrapped an arm around the dog’s neck, the god-awful, ugly brown blanket pooling around her waist. “Morning, puppy. Which one are you again? Bogey or Bandit?”
At the sound of the last name, the shaved retriever at the foot of the bed lifted its head. She vaguely recalled Diego introducing her on his way to showing her the shower and tossing her a T-shirt for sleep. Thank God he’d left her alone in his sparsely furnished bedroom after that.
Where was he now? She didn’t know and wasn’t ready to find out until sleep cleared from her head.
She nuzzled Bogey. “Thanks for keeping me company, fellas. You’re definitely more snuggly than those tiny Beanie Babies.”
Her muscles hadn’t ached this much since she’d started martial arts training at Athena Academy. After meeting the mat about twenty times, she’d decided she didn’t like that much and had set about determining how to be the best.
Right now, she felt pretty much rock bottom again.
The first couple of days following Craig’s accident had been filled with data gathering…and collecting evidence from the crash site. Her empty stomach rolled.
The actual investigation would likely take months, but the initial finding had been “total system failure.” Cause? Her modifications to the system were incompatible with the aircraft.
Everyone assured her this sort of thing simply happened. Proposed new projects failed more often than they succeeded. Albeit not always with a casualty. But that was just a horrible reality of military testing, a risk they all understood and a mistake any of them could have logged.
As if that made her feel better.
Meanwhile, she’d been ordered to take a long weekend and encouraged to apply for personal leave beyond that. Just be on hand to answer questions for the accident review board’s investigation. And once she returned, she would likely be assigned a new test project.
The knots in her shoulders doubled. She needed to work off tension, punch something or somebody. Or at least run a few miles. Maybe Diego would run with her. There was certainly plenty of wide-open space out here where he lived. Of course she didn’t even know if he worked out, but he certainly appeared more than fit.
There was so much she didn’t know about him, and there were few hints in this desert-rat home of his. Only that he cared next to nothing about decor, yet invested obscene amounts in electronics and his grill.
And he had pets. There was something sweet about a guy who loved animals.
She scratched behind the wolf-looking one’s ear. The shaved retriever nudged her other hand for equal time and attention while she woke up. On the bedside table rested gym shorts with a drawstring and a fresh T-shirt. He would have stood inches away from her to set down the clothes while she slept. Had he watched her? She shook off the image and hustled her butt out of bed to get dressed.
Baggy clothes on, she couldn’t avoid Diego or the day any longer. “Come on, puppies.” She snapped her fingers. “You probably need to be let out or something.”
Like she knew anything about pets. A woman who’d grown up in a boarding school and now didn’t risk attachment with anything more than toys. Small ones at that.
The animals leaped off the bed one thud after the other. Doggy nails clicked on the hardwood floor as she entered the sprawling great room. The spacious room sported a butt-ugly burnt-orange sofa, a wide-screen TV and no Diego, just a rumpled blanket and pillow on the couch. This pillow definitely bore the deep imprint of a head.
She glanced down at the two dogs swinging up alongside her like good wingmen. “Where’s the big guy? Huh? Where’s Diego?”
Bogey sprinted for the door and scratched.
“Okay, so I guessed right on the going-out thing. Hang on.”
She swung open the door, but still no Diego, just her car parked in the middle of a dusty yard without any real driveway. Bogey loped toward the garage, hesitated, looked back, tongue lolling.
“Ah,” she sighed, understanding. “He’s out here.”
She followed barefoot, but the dog didn’t dart into the open garage as she expected. Instead, he circled around back and plopped down in front of a wooden windowless hut.
She tapped on the door. “Diego?”
No answer.
She twisted the knob slowly. Not locked. It gave. She opened to find what looked to be a dressing area in a tiny cedar-wood room. A bench with a stack of towels lined one wall, hooks on the opposing wall. Diego’s jeans dangled, a hint of boxers peeking from behind them. Straight ahead she saw another door, which unless she missed her guess, led to a sauna.
Holy barrel roll, Batman. He was in th
ere naked.
Again she glanced at Diego’s clothes, envisioning him in nothing more than a towel—if even that. All the frustration and pain and tension she’d wanted to run out with him suddenly found a new outlet. It felt damned good to be in control of something right now.
After a quick trip back to the house for her purse and some hopefully soon-to-be-needed birth control, Josie whipped the T-shirt over her head.
Chapter 13
Head back against the cedar wall, Diego stretched out his legs on the planked bench. A stark bulb overhead illuminated the two benches, which met to form an L in the rectangular room. The other two walls held the stove and door.
Dipping a ladle into the bowl beside him, he scooped and flung more water onto the stones. Steam hissed into the air and blanketed him. Sweat slicked his skin after only fifteen minutes. He swiped a towel across his face, then tossed it across one thigh. Still he couldn’t shake the hell of imagining Josie lost in that ball of flames at the crash.
He’d intended to sweat out his frustrations in his sauna. Instead emotions were boomeranging right back around on him, leaving him more than a little raw. Probably for the best that he’d left Josie sleeping. He hadn’t wanted to risk waking her. Soon enough she would come back to life, her brain as well as her body. And when she did, she would arrive at the same conclusion he had right around midnight.
Wagner’s accident wasn’t so accidental.
“Diego?” Josie’s voice called through the thick wood door as if he’d conjured her from the steam. “I assume that’s you in there.”
Damn. He’d thought for sure she would sleep for at least another hour. “Yeah, it’s me.”
“Are you up for company?”
Just the sound of her voice threatened to have him “up” for something else entirely. She didn’t need him coming on to her any more than she needed to discuss Wagner’s crash just yet.
He adjusted the towel more strategically over his lap. “You’re welcome to join me—” understatement “—but be warned, this is a clothing-optional locale and I’m definitely on the optional side right now.”
“I’m counting on it.”
No mistaking the intent in that one. Surprise stilled him.
The door swung wide and, holy crap, he couldn’t breathe, much less move. Josie stood silhouetted, wearing nothing but a fluffy white towel. Long legs stretched, ending in bare feet with painted toenails. He wouldn’t have pegged her for pink polish, but the splash of soft color somehow enhanced her strength and allure all the more.
His eyes worked their way back up to where her hand clasped the towel’s knot between her creamy breasts. Farther up he looked to the curve of the neck he had dreams of burying his face against once he buried himself even deeper into her.
Dangerous thoughts for a man with only the piss-poor cover of a hand towel over his lap.
He met her gaze straight on and found her eyes no less tempting than the rest of her. Determination, hunger, need exuded from her as if the steam had already begun to take its cleansing effect. Much like after her encounter with Bridges, Josie seemed to need an outlet.
Although he doubted she was looking to kick his tail the way she had Shannon Conner’s.
Still, he couldn’t afford to misstep here. She’d have to make herself totally clear before he would put so much as a finger on her. He hitched his knee up to shield what was rapidly becoming an uncomfortable erection.
Josie’s fingers closed around the condom she’d retrieved from her bag. One look at Diego’s towel and she knew without question.
They would be using the condom soon.
“Have a seat.” He gestured to the empty bench.
She padded across the planked floor, stopping beside him until her towel brushed his arm. “I was hoping I could sit here with you.”
“You’re more than welcome to sit anywhere you want. But be warned you’re hot and I’m not unaffected. Doesn’t mean I’ll do anything about it unless you want me to. But I’m a guy and you’re damned near naked. And hell, you could be wearing a potato sack and I’d still get hard when you walked into the room.”
Sweat trickled down her neck between her breasts, soaking into the towel. “Thank you. Now are you finished?”
“Just so we’re clear that you’re calling the shots.”
“If I’m calling the shots, then I want to be on this side with you.”
“Fair enough.” Diego swung his feet down.
She couldn’t resist the temptation to step between his legs rather than dropping to the bench beside him.
He kept his hands on his knees, while each pointer finger stroked up into her towel. “I assume you’re up on your sauna protocol. If you’re not a frequent user, then you’ll want to limit your time to fifteen minutes.”
“I use the sauna at the base gym after daily workouts. I’m fine in here for an hour. The question is, can you last that long?”
One hand still clutching her towel, she extended her arm over him, fist closed. Her fingers unfurled. The condom package plopped onto his thigh. She couldn’t be much clearer than that.
Still he didn’t move forward. “I guess I don’t need to ask if you’ve thought about this.”
“I thought about it all the way back into the house to get the birth control once I realized you were in here, and then during every return step with the condom in my hand. I want this.” Her knuckles whitened around the knot in her towel. “I want you.”
The last words were torn from her with a reluctance he no doubt wouldn’t miss. But damn it, surely he would understand. Alone might be lonely, but in many ways it was so much safer.
Leaning, he ladled more water onto the stones, the cloud swelling forward over them. He straightened to face her again. “Then I reckon I’m lucky that you made the trip back to the house, because I don’t have a thing on me right now.”
“Lucky us.” She dropped the towel.
He swallowed hard, eyes raking her body, lingering on her breasts. “Definitely lucky me.”
Reaching around, he palmed her back to bring her closer, her breasts level with his face and her tightened dusky nipples the perfect targets for his free hand.
The sparks that danced behind her eyes had nothing to do with the heat of the sauna or the stark lightbulb above and everything to do with the electrifying caress of Diego’s fingers teasing her breasts.
She’d been right to join him. Already the rest of the world began to recede behind the passion hazing her vision. And through the red, she saw Diego watching her while his fingers tugged tantalizing magic on one nipple.
Diego raised his hand and she almost whimpered, until he brought it to her mouth, sliding a finger between her lips. She sucked deeply, fully enjoying the taste of him and looking forward to more.
He withdrew slowly, deliberately and returned his tutored attention to her breast again. “I’ve wanted to do this since the first time you walked toward me all full of fight and challenge.”
His damp finger traced lazy circles around a bead so taut she almost cried out, felt certain she would before he was through with her. “And what else did you think about doing to me? Because I want it all.”
His growl answered a second before he angled forward muttering, “I like a woman who knows what she wants.”
Josie nudged aside thoughts of his ex and other women he’d known and focused on the here and now. While he stroked her left breast, he lowered his mouth to her right. His tongue laved and his fingers toyed and her skin burned, her legs threatening to fold.
Sweat trickled down her neck, trailing along her over-sensitized skin. Whether the heat came from the sauna or Diego’s sheer magnetism she didn’t know or care at the moment.
She just needed more.
Hitching one knee then the other onto the bench, she straddled his lap. She cupped his face in her palms and brought his mouth up to hers. “Well, I most definitely want you. Here. Now. For as long as you can last.”
“A challenge?
”
“If you dare.”
“Oh, I would dare more than you could imagine, Buttercup.”
Wildness lurked in his eyes and for the first time since she’d seen him in his uniform with the military regulation haircut, she recognized him. She saw the Diego she knew, the man who called to every suppressed impulsive yearning.
“Try me.”
He cupped her head and met her mouth in a raw fervor of tongues, teeth, sweat, lust and something more she didn’t want to think about because thinking was dangerous. She wanted to feel. Experience.
Forget.
Finally she could kiss him without reservation, confident the passion he inspired would have an outlet this time. She wouldn’t go home frustrated, yearning and alone.
She explored with her tongue, wanting to learn all she could about this man on a fundamental level. She stroked down the corded length of his arms, farther, one hand flicking aside the towel as quickly as her other found the steely length of him. Inching closer, she worked him against her damp folds, the heat and hardness rubbing a silken friction against her straining bundle of nerves.
He seemed to understand her need for control over at least some part of her life right now. And although that practical side of her insisted Diego could turn the tables in a heartbeat, somehow she knew she could turn them right back around on him. Ultimately, the thrilling power play would stretch pleasure tighter for both of them.
Perspiration glided between her shoulder blades just as it dotted his thighs. The sound of him sagging back against the wall thrilled her, led her to continue until he gripped her hand and smacked the condom into her palm.
She sheathed him with excruciating precision before lowering herself onto him, slowly, pausing at the first thick pressure of entrance. Holding back. Sustaining that precipice moment between before and after.
Before knowing the complete feel of him.
After taking him inside her.
He stared back at her with eyes shifting from brown to opaque black. His hands stayed gentle on her hips, but his jaw flexed, clenched. Cords of restraint bulged along his neck. A pulse throbbed in his temple. The rapid beat mirrored her own pounding in her ears.