Cinderella and the Spy

by Sally Tyler Hayes

  She put her hand on his thigh. All that heat was right there, ready to explode. All the awful, aching need. He heard a faint, crude laugh from outside the cabin once again, and then it faded away. He felt her tremble.

  “Ahh, damn,” he whispered, wishing he could see her, wishing he could take all the fear away and save her. He desperately wanted to save her.

  Amanda lay there in the plush softness of the bed, naked and, until a moment ago, very aroused. But the voices outside had scared her. Something bad was going to happen. Josh knew it, and he was keeping it from her. She looked up at him, able to see just a bit of him now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness. “What is it?”

  She heard him undoing his zipper, heard a rustle of fabric, what she thought was him shoving his pants down. He slid into the bed beside her. Surprised, not wanting to think about what he’d heard, what changed his mind, she rolled into his arms, a thousand new, delicious sensations bombarding her. His thighs were more muscular than she would have expected, and she felt the slight abrasiveness of the fine hair on his calves and thighs as he slid one leg between hers, then another.

  “I think maybe you’re right,” he said. “I think it’s going to have to be me.”

  “You mean it?” she asked, her heart thudding all of a sudden.

  He nudged her thighs apart even farther, settled himself more fully against her. She gasped, feeling something she’d never felt before. She wanted to touch him, wanted to hold him in her hands. She wanted to kiss him and explore his body at will, wanted to know everything there was to know about him, everything he could teach her.

  But it wasn’t going to be like that, she realized. They had precious little time—maybe something he’d overheard just then had told him that. Maybe this was all the time they would have left. She pushed the thought aside. If this was it, she’d gladly spend it just like this with him.

  He kissed her deeply, urgently, teasing her with the big, blunt tip of his erection stroking at the opening of her body. “You feel so good,” he said. “So amazingly good.”

  The urgency was new. It had always been inside of her. She’d always wanted more, but now it was in him. She could feel it. Maybe it had always been there, and he’d only now given in to it. Which meant she was about to get what she so desperately wanted. Him. Deep inside of her. She couldn’t imagine how he’d fit down there, but trusted him to know exactly what he was doing.

  He kissed her breasts, quickly, ruthlessly, stroking and sucking and taking that tension inside of her body and sending it spiraling higher and tighter. She clutched at his hair, not sure if she was trying to make him stop or make sure he never did. She moved restlessly against him, letting her legs fall apart, letting him find his way right there, right to that throbbing, empty place inside of her. She was wet, she realized. Down there. Embarrassingly wet, like her body was crying out for him. He didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he liked it, teasing her with a hand he slipped between their bodies, a finger he slipped inside of her. Oh, yes, she was wet.

  “It’s supposed to be this way,” he said. “Just like this. You’re supposed to want me, just like this.”

  “I do.”

  “Good.”

  He stroked her some more, until she was clutching at him, tugging at him, begging him. “Josh!”

  “Shh.” He brought his mouth down to hers and left it there, so they were face-to-face, cheek to cheek, mouth to mouth, until he was her whole world. And then he settled his body heavily over hers once again. “You’re so delicate. So small. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  He pushed gently at the opening. She gasped as he slipped inside, just the tip of him. He was so very big. She put her hands on his hips, to hold him there. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, but she wasn’t letting him get away now.

  He kissed her lightly, rubbed his cheek against hers. “I wish I could see your face right now.”

  “Next time,” she said, thinking, please let there be a next time.

  He thrust gently, sinking a bit deeper, and groaned, his forehead resting against hers, his lips right there, hers for the taking. She did, kissing him softy, amazed at the intimacy of the act. He was everything to her now. Everything in her world. Everything she could see and hear and taste and touch. Every inch of her body pressed tightly against his. She loved how big and broad and heavy he was as he lay on top of her. She could feel the straining muscles in his arms and shoulders and back, could feel the tightly sheathed control inside of him.

  “Try to relax,” he said, so tender, so gentle with her. “This will work. I’ll be so deep inside of you, in just a minute. All you have to do is relax.”

  And she was, she realized. All those little muscles inside of her, ones she didn’t even know she had, were shuddering, stretching, giving, making room for him. He rocked his hips against hers, going a little bit deeper each time, until he hit a place where there was no give left.

  “That’s it?” she said.

  “Not quite.” He grinned.

  “But—”

  “Amanda? I’ve never done this before, either, okay?” He thrust against her again, easily, not going any farther. “I’m figuring this out as we go.”

  She laughed a bit, as well. Because it was deliciously intimate and way too personal and she couldn’t imagine being like this with anyone but him.

  She loved him impossibly, loved him too much for words, with too much emotion for her heart to contain. He was a one-in-a-million man. There’d never be another one like him. Silly little tears sprang up in her eyes. She closed them tightly, and held on to him and urged him forward.

  He went, pushing past the barrier and sliding so deep, so very deep, until he was buried inside of her. It was a bit of a shock. It didn’t hurt—not exactly. But he was so big, so long and hard and he filled her so exquisitely. Her body was struggling to adjust, to make room, and she’d clasped him so tightly. It was amazing really, how all of this worked. She hadn’t quite believed him when he claimed it would. But it did. She should have known he would find a way.

  “Are you okay?” He’d gone still inside of her, above her, all around her. He’d propped himself up on his forearms and dipped his head and nuzzled his nose against her cheek and found those silly tears, she supposed.

  “Yes,” she said, finding his mouth, giving him a salty tear-wet kiss.

  “I hurt you.” He said it as if it hurt him, the thought of hurting her.

  “No,” she said. “I’m fine. I’m just being silly.”

  He moved back. She thought he was done, that he was going to pull away from her. But he didn’t. He backed up only to slide deep inside her once again.

  “You like that?” he said, a hint of wickedness coming back into his voice.

  “Yes.”

  He did it again. Harder. Deeper. She felt a pulse throbbing inside of him, of her. Suddenly she was aware of every place on her body that was touching him, every pore. It was as though her skin had been supercharged into awareness. There was heat and sweat-slick skin, and all those delicious muscles of his, working so diligently for her pleasure and his.

  “Do it again,” she said. “And again.”

  Josh laughed softly against her mouth. She absolutely loved his laughter, and she had tears seeping out of the corner of her eyes. He was everything, she realized. Everything she’d ever wanted and more. He was strong and brave and good. Deep in his heart there was a goodness that she reveled in. And he was too beautiful for words and so sexy she could hardly breathe.

  “Hold on to me,” he said, as he moved more urgently against her, thrusting strongly, smoothly.

  She did, her nails digging into his back. She felt him throbbing inside of her, hotly, powerfully, felt a shuddering deep inside, her body gripping his so tightly, in strong, rhythmic waves.

  She almost screamed, buried her face against his shoulder instead. Her entire body was strung so tightly, all her muscles clenching uncontrollably. She felt so out of control. The feelings he’
d brought up in her were so powerful, so undeniable. He’d sent her flying, and now she was just hanging in the air, suspended in time and space. Just her and him. She didn’t think she could ever be this close to another human being, wouldn’t believe she’d ever want to be.

  It was just so good. So heartbreakingly good.

  Sensations flooded through her, her body starting to relax, feeling utterly spent, utterly satisfied. He was fussing over her, kissing her, asking if she was okay.

  “Okay doesn’t begin to cover it,” she said finally.

  A moment later he thrust against her once more, experimenting it seemed. “Sore?”

  “No,” she said. “There’s more?”

  “Just a bit,” he claimed.

  Then she felt so foolish. Of course, there was more. He hadn’t… Well, he was still there, inside of her. He was still holding back, still waiting for her, still intent on nothing but her pleasure.

  “What can I do?” she said, wriggling her hips and arching against him.

  “Not that,” he growled.

  “Why not?” He seemed to like it, if she was any judge.

  He muttered something that sounded like a plea, for someone to save him from an innocent woman. She did it again, because she liked the way he shuddered and gripped her more tightly.

  “Amanda? I don’t have a condom, remember?”

  “Oh.” She forgot. “So, what are you going to do.”

  “Something really stupid,” he confessed. “But honest to God, I can’t leave it like this.”

  And then he was moving against her, all restraint gone. She moved with him, arching her hips against his, taking him deeper, feeling herself spiraling up toward yet another climax. It wasn’t fair, she thought. He’d given her so much. She wanted him to have the same thing. More even. She desperately wanted to please him.

  The pleasure gripped her yet again, rolling through her. He thrust one more time, so impossibly deep. She felt him shudder, deeply, heard him swear and withdraw completely from her. She didn’t understand at first. He pressed against the softness of her belly, thrusting softly, groaning. She felt him shudder once again, felt a new wetness between them, on her belly. He gasped, pressing his mouth against hers and pushing inside with his tongue, when he wouldn’t let himself be inside of her in any other way.

  It wasn’t nearly enough for him, she thought. Not nearly enough. But it was delicious in its own way, cradling his body in hers and feeling those ripples of satisfaction tear through him, feeling all his muscles clench and feeling him fall heavily on top of her, spent. Satisfied, she hoped. Happy.

  He’d made her so very happy.

  More silly tears seeped out of the corners of her eyes, and she clutched at him with her arms around his shoulders. There was a fine sheen of perspiration on his broad back, a fine trembling rippling through him, and he was heavy. She liked how big and heavy he was, sprawled on top of her like this.

  Amanda took stock of the situation, languid heat, exhaustion that had her feeling like she’d run for miles, a faint soreness between her legs, the dampness there, their naked bodies pressed together so intimately. He raised his head and she could sense him studying her. She wished she could see him more clearly, wished she could imprint the memory of him and the way he looked right now in her mind forever. But she would never forget the moment. Not one moment of this. Of him.

  “Are you all right?” he said huskily.

  “Yes.” She smiled. “Thank you.”

  “You’re so polite. Like I did you a favor.” He laughed a bit, kissed her once again. “I wanted you. So badly. It seems like I’ve wanted you forever.”

  “Which is why you made me beg, I suppose?” she said, trying to keep this light, trying not to blurt out something silly, something sentimental and monumental, like the fact that she loved him, desperately and completely loved him.

  “You’re too innocent to even know how much I wanted you. Or how hard it was to keep my hands off you for this long.”

  “And that’s bad?”

  “No,” he said, serious himself now. “Not bad at all. Just…different. Very different. For me.”

  She nodded, honestly not sure if he was trying to pay her a compliment or let her down easy right now.

  “I’ll never forget you,” he said. “I’ll never forget this.”

  “Don’t regret it,” she said, worried that he would. “Promise me.”

  “I couldn’t. Not completely. No matter how hard I tried.” He paused, considered. “You’re an amazing woman. A beautiful, delicious—” He kissed the side of her neck, took a little bite of her. “Sexy, amazing woman.”

  Which sounded a lot like goodbye to her.

  “The only thing I regret,” he said, “is that we don’t have time to do this again. Right now.”

  “Me, too,” she said.

  He rolled onto his side and tugged at the sheet, finding a corner and wiping off her belly, which was sticky and warm. “Sorry. It was the best I could do, under the circumstances.”

  “It’s all right,” she said.

  “It’s also about the worst method of birth control known to man. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  He cleaned himself up and rolled onto his side, pulling her onto her side, holding her close again, sliding a hand against the side of her face and kissing her softly. “You might be pregnant.”

  A torrent of emotion flickered through her—that she couldn’t imagine anything more satisfying than having his child. That he didn’t want anything from her, save a few months in her bed. That she had to hope she wouldn’t get pregnant. That she truly had no right to hope for anything else from him except maybe a few months spent just like this, if they got out of this mess.

  She struggled for sanity, to choke back emotion. “I don’t think you have to worry. Not about that. It really is the wrong time.”

  “Amanda? If it happens? We’ll deal with it, all right? You’d come to me, right? You wouldn’t try to keep something like that from me?”

  “No, I wouldn’t.”

  “Promise me.”

  She did. He sighed and kissed her again, sounding like a man full of regrets.

  “You promised you wouldn’t regret this,” she reminded him. “I begged you. Don’t start developing a selective memory of it now.”

  He paused. “Okay, I won’t.”

  “Honestly, we have other things to worry about right now.”

  “I’m going to get you out of here,” he promised.

  “I’m counting on that.”

  Chapter 13

  Josh got dressed and then he dressed her, the invisible clock inside his head urging him on. He put her in the corner behind a heavy bureau—as much protection as the room afforded—and made her swear to stay right there until he said otherwise. Though Josh knew it was only about twenty minutes or so, it seemed like hours before the boat veered right. That was their first warning. Then it veered left. Then the engines died down. He pushed Amanda down behind the bureau and kissed her hard and fast, one last time.

  “Wait for me,” he ordered.

  With effort, he blanked his mind of everything else—of her, of what they’d shared, how it had felt, the risks they’d taken, of what might happen if he failed her now—and concentrated on getting her out of here.

  He stood with his back pressed to the wall. When the door opened, he would be ready. He had no weapon, but he was good with his hands, fast and strong. He could take someone out in seconds with his bare hands.

  He heard the thrumming of a helicopter all of a sudden, as the boat engines cut out completely, heard shouts of anger and fear in Italian, gunshots. He waited, not wanting to think about how thin the walls of a boat were, about bullets ripping through them and tearing into flesh. Deliciously soft, delicate flesh.

  He heard the pounding of feet, heard someone on the other side of the door, fumbling with the lock. A shot came through the door. Josh winced, knowing the bullet had
to have come close to the bureau. Amanda screamed.

  She was scared, he told himself. That was all. Not hurt. Just scared.

  The door swung open, and then he didn’t have time to think at all. He just reacted. The man came through gun first. Josh grabbed it, tugging the man inside and hurling him against the wall. He bashed the man’s hand against the wall three times before he had the gun in his hand, and then—much as he’d like to use it on the man—knocked him over the head instead and left him to crumple to the floor.

  Josh was by Amanda’s side two seconds later. He grabbed her and held her so tightly he would probably leave bruises. “You okay?”

  “Yes. What next?”

  He pushed her behind the bureau, then crowded in beside her, shielding her with his body. It went against his nature to hang back at a time like this, but he would do it. For her. Because that was the safest thing.

  “We wait,” he said. “I’ll shoot the next person who comes through that door. Unless it’s an American soldier.”

  The door had been left open. They could hear a scuffle, the occasional burst of gunfire, and there was some light to see by. He knew someone was coming through the door. Instincts honed over the years told him so. Someone was standing on the other side of that door, thinking, listening, carefully considering his options. Josh hadn’t heard a sound, which reassured him. He was counting on the fact that the soldiers coming to their rescue were much better trained than Rudy’s thugs.

  Like a flash, two men were in the room, barrels of their weapons coming first, night goggles on their faces. “Out,” one of the men ordered. “Now.”

  And they surrendered willingly to a crew of U.S. Navy SEALs.

  Minutes later the boat was secure, the helicopter hovering overhead. Josh stood on the bow with Amanda, the boat rocking on the choppy seas, the wind blowing steadily but not too fast, the sun just starting to come up. It was a surreal scene. Two of Rudy’s men dead, two injured, a crew of black-clad soldiers with weapons standing on either side of him and Amanda, lest some unknown trouble come out of nowhere to threaten them. Amanda’s face was buried against his chest, her hair fluttering on the wind. He had her wrapped in a blanket, because she was trembling so badly, and it was cold in the heavy sea breeze.