A dozen plans and scenarios cycled through his mind. Last night, he had begun making plans for them, for Becca and himself, ones he hadn’t discussed with her yet, crazy fantasies that now had to be put aside. He glanced over to where she slept, propped against the window and his heart clenched. He knew he would be called up to defend his country. He didn’t know when he’d see her again. They might have one more night together before he had to be on the flight line and he planned to make it memorable. What he had told Ferran was true, though. He intended to marry her and as soon as possible.
They pulled onto the road as close to the checkpoint as they could get, but still five kilometers away. Ahead of him, he could see Ferran’s brake lights come on and he slowed, then stopped. The road before them was blocked by army trucks, and men with guns were spread out across the highway.
Their luck had just run out.
~*~
Becca woke with a start. “What’s happening?” she asked, sitting up straight and looking around in alarm.
“Road block.” Aaron opened the door and stepped out. “Stay inside.”
Terrified for him, Becca did as he said, but sat forward in the seat and pressed as close as she could to the windshield to see what was going on.
Aaron and Ferran, both dressed as the desert warriors they were, strode up to the man who appeared to be in charge. He held out his hand, obviously demanding their papers. They each handed over a leather folder. He flipped them open, scanned them quickly, and then looked up with a smile.
Becca really didn’t like the looks of that smile. It was the cat-caught-the-canary, man-are-you-screwed smile. He called up some more men, shouted orders, and they set to work searching the vehicles. Sophie awoke, terrified, when one of them jerked the door open and she almost tumbled out.
Becca whirled around and made a grab for the girl. “Stop! She’s hurt.”
The soldiers ignored her, tossing items out of the car, confiscating anything they wanted, including all of the remaining food and bottles of water.
They did show a little compassion and let Sophie stay where she was, but they ordered everyone else out of the cars to continue their search and to examine their passports and visas.
Becca found her sister and they put their arms around each other as they watched what was going on. When they found the boxes of artifacts that had been uncovered at Sik Ru, Jenny darted forward.
“Leave those alone!”
The man in charge, who Becca decided was turning out to be an officious little jerk, swaggered forward and spoke furiously. Aaron translated. “He’s demanding to know what these are.”
“Artifacts from Sik Ru which we have government permission to remove and study. We have copies of the agreement with us, signed by all the correct officials.”
Her answer didn’t please him and when the director of the dig hurried up to add his voice of protest, the guard’s demeanor hardened even more. Even thought Aaron and Ferran argued with him, he insisted that there was a new government in place and it hadn’t given permission for the artifacts to be removed.
“They don’t want to give permission,” Aaron muttered to Becca and Jenny. “They want to take bribes.”
“Our dig is working on a shoestring,” Jenny protested. “We don’t have money for bribes.”
The official confiscated all of the cases, then spat out orders that had his men leaping forward to take Aaron and Ferran into custody.
Becca dashed over to Aaron. “What are they doing?”
“Flexing their muscles.”
“By arresting you? You’ve both got permission to be here!” She turned toward the official, ready to blast him, but Aaron stopped her.
“They want to show us who’s boss. They can’t take any of you because they don’t want the Americans down on them, but they think they can make some kind of point by taking us.”
“Will they hurt you?” she asked, frantically, turning back to him, searching his face in the indirect light coming from the vehicles.
He gave her a steady look. “I don’t know, but you can’t think about that right now. You’ve got to be in charge now, Becca. You’ve got to get all of these people home, you and Jenny.” He nodded toward the direction of Côte de Diamant City. “Follow the highway. When you get near the city, use the satellite phone to call Dahhak, my assistant. He’s the first number on speed dial. He’ll help you. All of these people can stay at my house until they can get out of the country.” The guards holding him started to pull him away. “And tell my mother not to worry.”
With that, he was forced into an army truck, Ferran was shoved in behind them, and the doors were slammed.
In shock, Becca watched as the truck started and drove off down the highway, going in the direction from which they had come. Where were they being taken? she wondered frantically. How far into Isbahar? Would she ever see Aaron again?
In spite of her worry, she turned around and faced the official. She wanted to argue with him. She thought that Preston Bell probably spoke enough of the local language to make her understood, but maybe it wouldn’t be such a good idea to drag him into the middle of it. She didn’t know what kind of power this little jerk had, but it might be best not to challenge him. Besides, no doubt Preston wanted to come back to Sik Ru someday.
With a jerk of his head, the guard indicated that they should go. The group wasted no time in getting everyone back into the vehicles and onto the road. The trucks parted for them, then drove back into position, waiting for the next unsuspecting travelers.
All the way to the border, Becca worried about the immediate future, about driving an unfamiliar vehicle, about not having an international driver’s license, about finding her way back to the city, everything possible except worrying about Aaron. If she did, she would pull to the side of the road and bawl her eyes out.
The official must have called ahead because they weren’t stopped at the border, but passed straight through to the Côte de Diamantian side. Since the Côte de Diamantian guards didn’t speak English, she couldn’t explain what had happened, but they were waved through. Within hours they were in the city and she did as Aaron had told her, calling Dahhak who arrived quickly to take the group to Aaron’s home.
Sara and Musa rushed out to meet them and Becca explained what had happened. In spite of her worry, Sara was the perfect hostess, finding rooms for their visitors and making everyone comfortable. Musa wanted to hear every detail of their adventures, but his grandmother shushed him, telling him not to be rude. The exhausted travelers tumbled into bed and the house settled down. Dahhak headed right back to his office to make arrangements to get all of them out of the country in case the airport was due to be closed in the expected conflict.
In spite of her exhaustion and the comfortable bed, Becca couldn’t sleep. She got up, wandered around the room, drifted out to the balcony where night was beginning to fall. Turning, she walked down to Aaron’s room, opened the French doors and went in. She hadn’t been in here before, but thought she might feel closer to him. She touched the things on his dresser, a small brush and comb, a millefiore paperweight, a carved ebony box with trinkets he’d picked up around the world.
She knew she probably shouldn’t look at his personal things, but she’d spent one entire night making love with the man, and she was crazy in love with him. She felt that gave her some rights to pry.
Becca opened the box and took out each item, trying to guess where they came from. Some were obvious – a tiny replica of the Eiffel tower, cuff links of Chinese jade carved with a dragon motif, British coins and Japanese paper money among other items. At the bottom, wrapped in tissue paper, was the letter R, sterling silver and studded with crystals. She thought it must have been part of a necklace because there was a place at the top that looked like the metal loop had broken off.
She stared at it for a second, turning it over in her hand, trying to decide where it had come from. Russia, maybe? Romania?
Suddenly, the hairs on the
back of her neck stood up and she made a soft sound of surprise. She knew exactly where it had come from. It was hers. She had lost it ten years ago and she could remember when, too. On the night before she was to leave to be a counselor at summer camp, Aaron had taken her for a ride in his leased sports car. Her hair had been whipping in the wind and she had made a grab to control it, only to hook her finger in her necklace chain and snap it. The initial pendant had gone flying and she’d thought it had sailed out the window.
But it hadn’t. Aaron had found it and kept it. Maybe he had meant to return it when she came back from camp, but never had the chance.
Touched and humbled, she rewrapped it, replaced everything in the box and put it back in its place on his dresser. He had kept it all these years. Did he even remember that he had it? Had he remembered the girl it had belonged to?
She sat down on the bed, smoothed her hand over the spread. It was linen in a deep shade of green, crisp and cool to her touch. She picked up a pillow and held it to her face. Breathing deeply, she drew his scent into her lungs, felt close to him for a second.
Where was he? Was he safe? Before they were parted, why hadn’t she told him she loved him? He didn’t have to love her back, but she wanted him to know how she felt, and that she was grateful to him for helping her find her sister, for giving her an adventure – not to mention countless orgasms. With that naughty but comforting thought in mind, she lay down with her head on his pillow, and drifted off to sleep.
She was dreaming, feeling his mouth on her skin, skin that knew his touch. He was kissing her cheek, her ear, her throat, the curve of her shoulder. His hands were turning her from her side to her back, unbuttoning her thin cotton nightgown, brushing it aside, kissing her breasts, closing his mouth over one, suckling deeply so that a sharp, stinging need arrowed straight to her core, soaking her with dampness.
His mouth still on her breast, his hands moved to her belly, massaging, kneading her until one finger slipped inside. He found the magic spot that gave her such pleasure. When the first wave of ecstasy hit, her eyes flew open.
Aaron loomed above her, naked, fresh from the shower, smelling of sandalwood and sex. Her hands shot up to twine around his neck, to dive into his damp hair. She fixed her mouth on his and drank him in. He was delicious, gloriously familiar. Safe.
“Aaron, you’re home.”
“Not yet,” he said. He drew her legs apart, adjusted her hips, and drove into her. “Now I’m home.”
She lifted her hips to settle him in as deeply as possible. “That should have sounded corny,” she said.
“The fact that it didn’t tells me I’ve got you fully in my mesmerizing power.”
She lifted her legs, surrounded him, locked him in tight. “And I’ve got you in mine.”
“The only place I want to be.”
The tenderness in his voice shattered her heart. She kissed him again, her mouth fixed on his, hard and possessive, as if her lips could hold his as his body was holding hers.
He began to move inside her, his hips thrusting deeper and deeper, bringing her closer and closer to a shattering climax. It began low inside her, rolling outward until it sent her crashing over the edge, calling his name, triggering him to come, too.
Afterward, they lay face to face, entwined with her head on his shoulder, her arm around his waist and her hand drawing lazy circles on his back. Her leg was drawn up over his hip, his hand resting possessively on her bottom.
She tilted her head so that she could kiss his jaw, pull as much of him into her as she could because she was leaving, he was going to defend his country, and they might never lie together like this again. Her throat choked on the thought.
“I’m so glad you’re safe,” she said around the lump filling her chest. “How did you get away?”
“Turns out that minor official overstepped his authority. They locked us up in some kind of holding cell where we actually slept for several hours. Once they figured out who Ferran was, they let us go, took us to the border, dumped us off, then hurried back to create more chaos in their own country.”
“But that’s going to mean trouble for yours.”
“Yes. I have to be on the flight line in three hours.”
“Then you should get some sleep.” She started to move away from him, return to her own room.
“Are you crazy?” He pulled her back to him. “I’ve got better plans than that, and finding you in my bed makes things a whole lot easier.”
“I missed you.” She tilted her head back so she could see his face. “I came in here to feel close to you, to remember.”
His grin was self-satisfied and completely wicked. “Oh, my love, I’m going to give you a lot more to remember.”
He kissed her again and she wondered hazily how they managed to get better and better, why each one was so familiar and yet unique. He urged her onto her back, sat her up to finish removing her nightgown, then reached over to turn on the bedside lamp. He adjusted it to a low light, then lifted her arms above her head and trapped both wrists in one of his hand.
“I want to look at you,” he said simply.
He started with her hands, examining them front and back, kissing each of her fingers. His gaze roamed over her wrists, down her arms, frowning at an old scar on the inside of her elbow.
“Where did that come from?”
She turned her head to look at it. “When I was five I decided it would be a good idea to climb the lemon tree in our back yard. It wasn’t. Do you know those darned trees have thorns an inch and a half long? I scraped my elbow, got covered with scratches, fell out of the tree. I was a mess.”
He smiled and kissed the scar. He continued on, taking his time, telling her how beautiful every inch of her was, praising the shape of her breasts, the dusky rose color of her nipples. He gave those plenty of attention, kissing and suckling them until she was gasping with delight, her head thrown back, her pelvis arched, begging him to take her again.
He wasn’t unaffected, either. She could feel his penis nudging insistently at her hip. He didn’t fulfill their desire, though. He had another agenda in mind.
When he was finished examining, praising, tasting, and kissing every inch of her front, he turned her over and started on her back.
“I have a confession to make,” he said, running his palms over her back, bending over to kiss his way up her spine.
She moaned with the profound sexiness of it. “What? We’re going to try another of those positions we saw at that temple.”
“We are,” he admitted, nudging her hair away from her shoulder to place kisses there. “But that’s not what I have to confess. Your first night here, I came in and sat looking at you.”
His touch caused shivers to run through her. “Why didn’t you wake me up and make love to me?”
His laugh puffed warm air against her skin. “I was saving that for later. No, I looked at you and thought how beautiful you were, but how exhausted, hungry, and skinny you looked.”
“I must look better now since you’ve been feeding me ceaselessly.”
“You do. I lifted your blouse . . . .”
“I really should be offended,” she said in an I-don’t-care voice.
“And counted your ribs.”
“Were they all there?”
“There and too prominent.” He ran his hands down her sides, making her jerk and giggle. “Now I can see them, but they’re not so obvious.” He counted her ribs, taking note of each mole, kissing the indentation of her spine where it curved into her rounded bottom, then down each leg.
The action was so slow, deliberate, so filled with care, she ground her forehead into the mattress and fought back tears. If she hadn’t loved him before, she would have loved him now.
“What about my breasts?” she asked. “Did they meet with your approval.”
“I didn’t look. Even I’m not that much of a voyeur. I’ve had the opportunity to observe them since then, though.” He slipped his hands under her and lift
ed her slightly so that her breasts fell into his palms. He massaged her nipples, making her whimper with pleasure. “They meet with my full approval,” he assured her.
After he had studied, kissed, tasted every inch of her, he stood, gloriously aroused, and walked across the room. She turned her head to see what he was doing and was surprised to see that he had grasped the corner of his dresser and was angling it to face the bed. He adjusted the mirror, rolled on another condom, and then came back to her.
He knelt on the bed, facing the mirror, reached down and pulled her up in front of him. To her delighted amazement, he settled her back against him, against his stiff penis, lifting her, sliding it into her folds which were drenched and ready for him – but he didn’t enter her. Instead, he positioned her legs so that they lay along the outsides of his, then wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed her to him as if he couldn’t get close enough.
Puzzled, she turned her head to look at him. “Aaron? What are you doing?”
“I want to keep this memory,” he said. “Look at us.”
She turned to look at the image in the mirror, of the two of them, naked, folded together almost as one. He loomed behind her, solid, substantial, his shoulders, muscled and sleek, supporting hers. His hands moved from her waist, crossed to capture a breast in each hand, covering her protectively. His thumbs brushed across her nipples, jolting shivers through her.
She lifted her hands and placed them around his neck.
“Look at us.” His hands left her breasts, smoothed down her ribs, over her hips, down her thighs, leaving fire in their wake. “Tell me how this looks to you, Rebecca.”
“It . . . it looks like we belong like this, like . . . like a Rodin sculpture, timeless and solid.”
She could tell he liked that answer because of the growl of need that rumbled in his chest, and the stir of his penis resting in her folds, so close, yet so far from giving her satisfaction.
“What do you think it looks like?”
“It looks like this is where we belong.”
“I absolutely agree.” Then he tilted her forward and pushed into her. Unerringly, he found the spot that sparked her ecstasy. She moaned with the full, wonderful feeling of him.
Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015 Page 72