"You're a good guesser." Damn it was hard to talk with Sara's fingers searing through his skin and the past burning through his brain.
"Were you defending her honor?"
"Hardly." He would have, though, and that bit his pride worst of all. He'd been an idiot. "She was the one holding the knife."
"Where is she so I can scratch her eyes out?"
Well damn. Sara hadn't even assumed for a second that he deserved to be cut. She trusted him that completely. He was humbled.
And shamed.
She deserved the same level of trust from him, and he'd failed her. He owed her more than an apology, but all she'd asked for were a few words.
He turned to kiss her palm. "Sorry, but you can't scratch her eyes out. Dawn overdosed at nineteen."
After a beating from her pimp of eighteen months. Somehow he couldn't bring himself to label Dawn a hooker out loud, even after what she'd done to him or however much Sara wanted confidences.
She gasped. "How awful."
Yet how common where he'd lived. "When you grow up where I did, it's tough to trust other people no matter who your father is. Simple mistakes had major repercussions in my building. Somebody down the hall talks about a new color television—break-in happens. Guy on the floor above forgets to lock the door—his sister gets raped."
"No mistakes? You can't expect yourself to be perfect."
"Believe me, I know better than anyone that I'm far from perfect."
Five years ago when he and Sara had argued on the embassy lawn, he'd been too caught up in his pissed-off frame of mind to take note of his surroundings in a country at least as dangerous as his old neighborhood. Sara had paid a horrible price for that lapse. Lucia, too.
Three days ago, he'd again been too distracted to do his job and now one of his crew members was out there somewhere—and he hoped like hell she was still alive.
"Is something else wrong?"
He thought about brushing aside her concern. But hadn't he sworn he would try harder this time to get closer, slower, build something with her? Angling up, he swung his legs off the bed and sat on the edge, his back to her. "One of my crew members came looking for me shortly before the attack broke out back at the compound. She's missing."
"Dios." Her horrified gasp echoed the horror swelling inside him. "Padilla?"
"We don't know. Search-and-rescue teams are combing the area and there's not a damned thing I can do except wait."
Looping her arms around his waist, she rested her cheek against his back. "I'm so sorry. If you hadn't been there looking for me..."
"It's not your fault."
"It's not yours, either."
He clasped her hands folded over his stomach rather than answer and start an argument.
"You're never going to believe that, are you?"
He raised her hands up to kiss them without answering.
"That must be a heavy burden on your shoulders — being perfect and responsible for everyone."
Well hell, that wasn't the sympathy he was expecting when she'd hugged him. Here he was, trying to get closer and she was being sarcastic—and diverting him from the subject by reminding him not to take himself too seriously.
He peered over his shoulder at her. "You're not gonna cut me any slack tonight, are you?"
"Is that a problem?"
She stared back with brown eyes full of mischief—and yeah, sympathy, too. And hey, weren't those her br**sts pressed against his back?
He needed to move away from her when he was feeling so raw, but after the day from hell, he couldn't make himself leave the comfort of her body against his. Sara always seemed to know just how to glide under his skin in a way no one else ever had.
"I'm glad you're here with me tonight." One part of him more visibly glad than others.
Her face was so close he could angle back a couple of inches and kiss her. He shook with the restraint of holding himself in check. Her eyes went smoky-brown.
Then looked straight down to his lap.
He winced. "Adrenaline plays tricks with a guy's system."
The stroke of her gaze proved as potent as if she'd wrapped her fingers around him. He twitched in response.
Her fingers twisted in his T-shirt, her tongue peeking to dampen her lips. "What should we do with that impressive abundance of adrenaline?"
Chapter 11
Her vision full of impressively aroused Lucas, Sara waited for his verdict on her question. She knew he still wanted her...gracious, did she ever know at the moment. But he was such a practical, somber soul and their past days together hadn't been easy.
He would undoubtedly need persuading to take what they both needed.
"Sara, it's damned obvious what I want."
She smiled.
He didn't. "But for five years you've had choices stolen from you. So the more important question is, what do you want?"
Ohhhh, he was good. She breathed against his ear. "I want that door locked. I also want to be on the Pill, or have my backpack suddenly fill with condoms."
A low growl rumbled his chest. "You're sure that's what you want tonight?"
Tonight? Not forever? If only she could ignore semantics.
Either way, she was certain what she wanted, needed, deserved to have. "Absolutely positive."
Still he didn't move.
"Lucas?"
His head dropped, his eyes closed. "I swore to myself we would take this slow. If we're going to do this again— when we do this again—I don't want you to have regrets."
"Could you quit being the perfect protector long enough to listen to me?" Thumping him on the shoulder, she rocked back on her heels. "I've spent five years thinking you were dead. No matter what our problems were, losing you was the worst thing that ever happened to me."
Sara slid from the bed to kneel in front of him, her hands resting on his thighs. "Right now, we're here, we're together. Our child is safe in the next room, well and healthy. There's so much to celebrate and I want us to have that now, before all of those other troubles we need to work out intrude."
She couldn't be any clearer than that.
His shoulders rose and lowered with a heavy sigh. Her insides clenched with the fear that he would say no. Logic told her once he set his mind to something...
He shook his head slowly. "I'd planned to give you more time to adjust. But I guess I'm very much human and imperfect after all, because I can't stay away from you any longer."
Her fingers unfurled like the heat smoking through her veins, gathering inside her. "The door?"
He met her gaze, straight on and sexy-lidded. "Already locked it."
"I do so adore a man who thinks ahead." Then she remembered they still didn't have birth control.
He grinned. "A survival vest comes with condoms."
Relief flooded her—along with confusion. "In your survival vest? How very, uh..."
"They're used as water containers in a survival situation. Unlubricated condoms are the most compact and lightweight container to carry prior to use."
"Lucky for us." How soon could they forage through his vest?
"The doctor is certain you're okay?"
He would spend all night with questions and concerns if she didn't make a move.
"Totally healthy." Standing, she hooked her arms around his neck and stepped between his knees.
She lowered her mouth to his and oh, her lips parted with her sigh. The familiarity of his kiss melted through her like the chocolate addiction she couldn't indulge anymore, which seemed to double her craving. Although her appetite for this man had been insatiable before, and she suspected now wouldn't be any different.
Moving closer—could she get near enough?—she clung to his shoulders, reveled in the breadth of his hands cupping her bottom with gentle pressure. She canted forward, angling Lucas backward, not that she could move him anywhere he didn't want to go. He thudded against the mattress, and she let herself sprawl on top.
The mattress groaned. Or was that her? Her toes curled as her fingers dug into his shoulders.
They rolled to their sides. The mattress creaked so loudly this time she knew the sound hadn't come from her throat or his.
"Damn it," Lucas hissed.
"We'll be quiet," she whispered against his mouth, and yum, he'd shaved with that shower. "You can kiss me quiet which will double the pleasure."
He smoothed her hair from her face with hands that shook. "I wish I could take you somewhere special."
She hitched her leg over his hip. "Simply having you is far more special than any setting."
"I may not be able to do anything about the setting. But I can damn well improve the squeaky conditions." He inched from under her leg, stood and tugged the rumpled spread from under her.
"Lucas!" she whispered.
He fluttered the red-and-gold blanket over the rug, pitching pillows haphazardly. Lowering to one knee in a classic proposal pose that stung her eyes with tears, he extended a hand for her.
For a few precious seconds she let herself soak up the sight of him, lean and dark with an angular strength that would age well. Relief swelled again. She would have the joy of seeing him at fifty, even seventy. He was alive, and no matter what happened between them as a couple, they were linked by Lucia.
Somehow she knew he would be just as appealing with even more gray in his hair. His innate honor and character would stay with him, stamped on his face that was currently so serious and intent on making their time together special. How could she not be totally...
Entranced.
Clasping his hand, she sank to her knees in front of him. She kissed his bandaged arm carefully. "I'm sorry."
He buried his face in her neck. "Losing you hurt worse."
She cupped his face and kissed him hard, tongues and emotions rasping hot and raw before she eased back to pant against his mouth. "How did we make such a mess of things?"
His hands skimmed down her shoulders to cover her breasts, his mouth against the base of her neck. "Is that really what you want to talk about?"
"I'm not sure I want to talk at all unless it's to tell you how excellent..."
He brushed his thumbs in light circles.
Her breath hitched, "...how excellent...that feels. Don't stop."
"As long as we can last."
He lowered her to the floor, side by side, the blanket and rug more cushioning than their jungle bed the past couple of nights.
Plus the floor didn't squeak.
The dim glow from the bedside crystal lamp provided more romantic lighting than any candles—quite possibly because she'd learned the importance of the emotions, the moment. The person.
She let herself savor the feel of his hands under her clothes, against her skin. The never-to-be-underestimated pleasure of simply kissing.
Except kissing wouldn't be enough tonight. "You should probably find one of those condoms before we take this any further and forget."
Lucas smiled against her mouth, kissing her quickly, then slower, before backing away. "Smart lady."
She flopped onto her back and allowed herself the indulgence of watching him. Unhooking his survival vest from the rocking chair, he tugged a small packet from one of the many pockets. A condom. Of course they needed birth control with so much unsettled between them. But a small corner of her heart couldn't stop thinking of the miracle of having his baby inside her and what it might be like to savor that miracle together.
He returned to her side, frowning as he looked down at her. "Sara? Second thoughts?"
She shook her head. "Not second. Just thoughts."
He must have seen the memories in her eyes or felt them in the air, because he knelt beside her and splayed his hand over her stomach. "I'm sorry I wasn't there with you when you carried Lucia, and I will regret until the day I die, missing those first years with her."
