Skin Game

by Ava Gray

  Frustrating.

  Reyes drove in silence. Every now and then, his gaze slid to the woman slumped in the passenger seat. In sleep, she seemed smaller somehow, stripped of the attitude that gave her presence. He realized how much weight she carried alone . . . and her shoulders looked downright fragile. Even the smattering of freckles on her cheeks made her look younger, more vulnerable.

  She’d hate him thinking along those lines so he kept his eyes on the road. Things greened up as the day wore on. The closer they got to Nebraska, the more farmland surrounded the road. As they crossed the state line, Reyes read the sign “Welcome to Nebraska, the good life,” with an ironic quirk of his mouth. He couldn’t ever recall visiting this particular state, surely for good reason.

  In late morning, Kyra stirred.

  “Are we almost there?” she asked sleepily.

  He’d been seeing signs for a while now, driving well over four hours without a break. His legs were screaming, as were his shoulders, and Reyes wouldn’t mind a pit stop, but they were within reasonable distance now. He didn’t like getting off the highway unless he had no choice.

  “I think so. Thirty more miles according to the last sign. Are you good for it?”

  Kyra considered. “I could use a bathroom, but I can wait. We’ll be looking for the Sunset Motel, by the way.”

  Yet another seedy fleabag, he guessed. What he wouldn’t give to take her to a five-star resort somewhere. Lately, he’d been enjoying a fantasy about them sunning on a white, sand beach together somewhere with a waiter bringing frozen drinks on demand.

  “I’ll keep an eye out.”

  She shifted in her seat, crooking her knee toward him. Reyes felt her studying his profile in an odd prickle of awareness. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the tear in her jeans, revealing a shapely knee.

  “I never said thanks,” she said softly.

  “For what?”

  She tugged at raveling strands of worn denim. “Taking care of me. It’s rarely been that bad. Usually I can deal with it, no big.”

  Instinctively he knew he needed to answer right, not too much weight, not too much levity. “I won’t say it was nothing. You freaked me out. But I suspect being good to you will have its rewards.”

  Her lips curled into a feline smile. “You know, you’re right about that. I’m thinking what I put you through last night counts as working for what you want, probably harder than a man should have to. Don’t worry, Rey. I’ll make it worth your while.”

  “I have no doubt.” A billboard caught his eye. “I think we’re coming up on our exit in a few miles. What’s so special about this place? Do you have business here?”

  She shook her head. “No, this is vacation. Business starts up again in Sioux Falls. Ever heard of Carhenge?”

  Reyes lofted a brow. “Ah, no.”

  “Basically, this family made a replica of Stonehenge out of wrecked cars. It’s a memorial for the guy’s dad. They did it on their farm, and at first the town council tried to shut them down. But now it’s a tourist attraction, and there’s a society dedicated to preserving the place. They used a 1962 Caddy as the heel car,” she added with visible enthusiasm.

  He understood the appeal of it for her now: rebel spirit, memorial to one’s father, and cars. “Sounds interesting.”

  “I’ve always wanted to see it . . . and I figured since it was kind of on the way . . .” Kyra bit her lip, adorable in her uncertainty, although she wouldn’t like to hear that. “Well, I kind of wanted to share it with you. I mean, you probably think it’s dumb—”

  “No,” he cut in, oddly touched. “I think I’d like to see it, especially if it’s important to you.”

  “I wish I could do something like this for my dad,” she went on. “But this place is special because the guy’s dad used to live here. We don’t have anything like it . . . we never stayed in one place long.”

  Yeah, he’d gathered as much. “Maybe there will be something you can do on-site, something to commemorate him.”

  Her smile radiated so much frank gratitude it almost tore out his heart. “Let’s get a room first. From the motel, it’s less than three miles. They’re open daily during sunlight hours.”

  It wasn’t difficult to find the Sunset Motel, which aimed for quaint more than sleazy. He supposed that made sense, given its proximity to an Americana attraction. They got a room without trouble and stashed their things. If he didn’t quite like it, he was getting used to constant travel, but he wouldn’t mind visiting a Laundromat. That concern would be out of character, however. A vagabond like he purported to be would just hose things off in the shower and hope for the best.

  When he let them into their room, his gaze focused on the bed, one queen, more than adequate to accommodate them in any position she wanted. Reyes stifled a groan. Instead of wrecked cars, he’d rather see her naked. He tossed down their bags and visited the bathroom. As he washed up, he hardly knew the man in the mirror.

  Reyes hadn’t worn jeans and T-shirts of his own free will since he could afford better. Dressing like this reminded him of wearing cast-off clothing because Cesar didn’t see anything wrong with telling anyone who would listen that his kid was growing so quick he couldn’t keep him in pants. He’d never known—or maybe cared—how much it stung to know nothing he’d touched had ever been bought just for him.

  Fuck it. Clothes didn’t make the man. He needed to call Foster to placate him, but his phone was in the other room. If he went out to get it and then went back into the bathroom, it would look suspicious. He’d come too far in her esteem to jeopardize it now. It was only a matter of time until she confided in him completely. And then he could figure out the best way out of this mess, maybe some compromise that would satisfy Serrano, safeguard his own reputation for getting the job done, and leave Kyra her life.

  At least that was what he told himself as he blotted his face dry. He could use a shave, but that could wait, too, preferably until just before he made love to her. If she could take a vacation, so could he.

  Kyra took her turn, and when she came out, he saw she’d brushed her hair and put on some lipstick. The paint on her mouth made her eyes look that much more innocent in comparison, and he didn’t understand it at all. How could someone who lived like she did have such an unsullied soul?

  Reyes held out a hand. “You ready to check this place out?”

  CHAPTER 16

  Carhenge was everything Kyra expected.

  It had a campy Americana charm, but she found herself reluctantly impressed by the precision of the replication. She’d never been to Stonehenge, but she’d seen pictures. Rey seemed a little bemused by the idea of a monument like this erected in a random field, but he was patient with her desire to wander around.

  A man at a souvenir shop down the road told them they held pagan celebrations, music festivals, poetry readings, and of course, the occasional car show here. Kyra bought a T-shirt and tried to forget what’d happened earlier. Unfortunately, when her gift went wrong, it went way wrong.

  The site had picnic tables, so they bought lunch and came back. As the day wore on, other tourists showed up to check things out, but nobody tried to make conversation. Kyra stifled a smile over that, but Rey didn’t look particularly approachable, even in direct sunlight while eating corn on the cob. Right then, she could almost forget all the complications in her life.

  She’d never felt this kind of warmth directed at one man. When he turned his head, the sun gleaming on blue highlights in his dark hair, heat coiled in her stomach. His sharp features no longer looked fearsome, only sweetly familiar. Her heart felt strange, a little too large for her chest, when he smiled at her.

  They spent almost the whole day, doing nothing in particular. She knew he was trying to give her a good day to make up for what she’d gone through this morning, and she appreciated it. He had to be bored, but she felt weirdly close to her dad as she walked around the attraction.

  While she considered that, he cle
aned up the remnants of their picnic and then jogged over to a trash can. He paused on the way back to talk with an older man who wore a Carhenge hat. Kyra watched them, knees drawn up to her chest.

  Rey came back in a few minutes later. “If you apply for a Friends of Carhenge membership, you can sponsor one of the Aubrey holes and name it after your dad.”

  “Really?” For reasons she couldn’t explain, this would mean a lot more than a simple engraved stone.

  “Yeah. If you want to come over here and spend fifteen minutes with this guy, we can take care of it right now.”

  Her smile of thanks felt strange and tremulous. “Thanks for checking on it.”

  Half an hour later, they climbed into the Marquis with a receipt and a promise that the job would be done. She felt at peace for the first time in longer than she could recall, and Kyra knew she could thank the man beside her for that. As she drove back to the motel, she smiled. He was tough, no question, but he had a tender side, too.

  “What?”

  “Just thinking about how lucky you’re getting tonight.”

  He grinned. “I still have two-thirds of the condoms I bought in Louisiana.”

  As she pulled into the parking lot, she slid him a serious look. “I’m glad fate brought us together again. I can’t remember when I’ve been this happy.”

  A shadow flickered in his dark eyes. “Me, either. Let’s go upstairs.”

  The stark, sensual lines of his mouth told her there wouldn’t be any teasing this time. He wanted her as much as she wanted him, and Kyra found that reassuring. Rey took her hand and led her to their room. They’d just tossed their bags inside the door, and he swept them aside with a foot as he tugged her through the door.

  He bent, rummaging for the aforementioned condoms and tossed the box on the bedside table. She had enough presence of mind to pull the curtains and put the chain on the door, but then his hands slid over her hips, drawing her to him for a long, drugging kiss. As soon as his lips touched hers, pure lightning crashed through her. Kyra ran her hands over his hot, hard chest, up and over his shoulders. Her nails dug in as he nipped her lower lip, demanding a deeper taste of her.

  By the time he broke away long minutes later, they were both trembling. She gloried in the fact that his hands weren’t steady as he pulled her shirt over her head. Kyra wriggled out of her jeans on her own, leaving her clad in peach panties and a matching camisole. His gaze found the dusky points of her nipples through the satin, and she felt the look between her thighs.

  Kyra pulled the cami over her head and tossed it toward a chair. His touch skimmed upward over her ribs, hesitating only a few seconds before closing on her breasts. It wasn’t a fierce touch, more reverently possessive, as if he were acknowledging something beautiful that belonged to him. She knew she should be worried or offended, but she couldn’t resist the seduction of his hands. Rey rubbed his thumbs back and forth across her nipples, abrading them, but he knew not to pinch. Instead he tugged with tender fingertips, mimicking suction.

  Her breath went in a shuddering rush. She needed his mouth there. As if in answer, he bent his head, laving her nipple in a tight circle, then he bit, lightly. Yes, like that. Kyra swayed, breathless with the delicious contrast between demand and delicacy.

  “We’re going to slow things down now,” he murmured in a black velvet voice. “Lay back.”

  Instinctively, she wanted to protest. She didn’t need foreplay, but by the look in Rey’s eyes, there would be no arguing with him today. Kyra sank onto the bed, conscious of every angle and curve. His dark gaze seemed to skim her skin, touching the lees and hollows of her body.

  “Want me?” she whispered.

  He didn’t waste words. Instead the heat of his mouth brushed the inner curve of her ankle, a delicate kiss that curled her toes. Kyra spread her legs, stifling a moan. She knew where he was heading, but nobody had ever done it before. Men didn’t tend to waste such niceties on a woman they picked up for the night.

  His teeth followed his lips, grazing a path up the curve of her calf. When he licked the soft skin behind her knee, Kyra lifted her hips. It was impossible not to imagine his mouth at work elsewhere, devouring her with the complete intensity and focus he dedicated to every task. Levering up on her elbows, she reached out to touch his head, smoothing the raven strands.

  “Close your eyes,” he whispered. “I don’t want you watching me. I want you feeling.”

  “Oh, I am.” A shiver swept over her, but she did as he asked.

  Everything intensified when her lashes swept down. Flashes of sensation punctuated the darkness, and her world centered on the gifted mouth now nuzzling her inner thighs. Rey fastened his teeth gently on the skin and tugged, then swirled his tongue in lazy circles. Heat and dampness contrasted with the rasp of his jaw.

  A little moan escaped her as he licked along the edge of her panties. Hoping he’d take the hint, she lifted her hips again. This time, he slid them down her thighs and off to join her clothes on the floor. Dimly she realized she was naked, and he was fully clothed. There was a certain titillation in that awareness.

  When his fingers grazed her labia, she stiffened a little. She’d thought he would use his mouth, but what he was doing felt good, so she stayed quiet. Rey pressed and caressed her outwardly until she felt a steady stream of moisture within. The longer he delayed touching her more intimately, the more sensitized she felt. With what felt like thumb and forefinger, he massaged her lips until she found her pelvis rising and falling, trying to force a little contact with her aching clitoris.

  Kyra moaned as he shifted and a phantom flare of heat traced along her folds. By the time his mouth graduated from teasing to greedy, she’d come unhinged. Her hips bucked and she tangled her hands in his hair. He worked his tongue against her, licking up and down everywhere but the spot she wanted it most. She tried to raise his head up, but he seemed determined to drive her out of her mind.

  “Come on,” she begged. “Finish me.”

  Silky hair brushed her thighs when he slid upward. Strong hands cupped her ass, lifting her to his mouth like a pagan sacrifice. Kyra’s thighs spilled open, and she had no hope of hiding anything from him. His lips closed on her clit, firm, soft, heated. Each pull made her writhe against him, utterly open, taken by his lips and tongue to a place where she could only thrash and groan, beyond speech.

  Orgasm broke upon her hard, leaving her shivering in his arms. The waves went on and on, subtly enhanced by the magic of his mouth. He whispered to her in languages she didn’t know. When she opened her eyes long minutes later, his hands were on her back, stroking her as if she were a wild thing he had to tame.

  Kyra felt like she should say something poetic, but that wasn’t her style. Instead, she offered, “Those pants have to be strangling you by now. Wanna take ’em off?”

  Hell , yeah. She lay there like a contented kitten while he stripped out of his jeans. Her tawny eyes following his every move reinforced the feline image. He’d loved watching her unguarded emotions while he touched her. That was why he’d demanded she close her eyes, so that barrier would drop. It had been even better than he’d imagined, and over the last few weeks, he’d imagined a lot.

  Need ricocheted through him—and that was exactly why he couldn’t take her right now. Reyes left his boxers on out of self-defense. She might take his decision for tenderness or consideration, but it was more basic than that. His response to her pleasure had rocked him too much. For an agonizing moment, he’d feared he would come, too. That gave her an unacceptable level of influence over him, compromising his ability to make good decisions. Therefore, he had to prove to himself he was still in charge, both of his emotions and this operation. Things had gotten murky; time to clear them up.

  So Reyes wrapped his arms around her and tucked her close. Kyra gazed up at him with sleepy eyes. “Not tonight, you have a headache?”

  “No,” he said quietly. “I’m going to let you recharge for a little while. There’s no rush. W
e have all night, right?”

  Her lips curved into a heartbreakingly sweet smile. “Right.”

  Kyra spooned up against him, back to his chest, and tucked her sweet little ass against his dick. At first he thought she was wiggling to try to drive him nuts, but eventually he realized she’d been trying to get closer to him. She nestled her head beneath his chin and sighed softly.

  Reyes sensed the moment she drifted off, languid and warm. Next to her, he felt like a live wire, every nerve jumping, but he wouldn’t be ruled by his emotions or his urges. When he took her, it would be controlled and methodical. It would serve his purposes, not simple biology. Through force of will, he relaxed his body by muscle groups and then he too closed his eyes and slept.

  When he woke, he realized with crystalline clarity that he’d never have detachment where she was concerned. His dick still felt diamond-hard, nestled up against her ass. If he had to wait another minute to get inside her, he’d die. His hands shook as he reached behind him for a condom. He pulled his penis through the slit in his boxers. The packet crinkled as he tore it open and rolled the latex on.

  She murmured a little in her sleep at his movements; the idea of waking her with an orgasm had him nearly ready to come, added to the previous stimulation. Damn, she’d tasted sweet, and she felt even better. He brushed his fingertips between her labia and found that she was still wet, still warm. Good. She must be enjoying her dreams.

  With a gentle hand, he tilted her hips, lifted one of her legs gently, and pushed into her from behind, inch by tantalizing inch. She gave a little whine, almost in protest, but he thought that came from the excruciatingly slow speed of his penetration.

  He’d never made love to a woman soft with sleep before. Reyes always woke them up before pouncing like a tiger, giving them the opportunity to say no; he liked it hard and rough with plenty of teeth. Given his general preferences and his history, it was safer to acquire consent beforehand—and just because a woman said yes once that night, it didn’t guarantee her cooperation again. They’d done it that way the first night, but nothing had gone as planned with her since.