Chapter Eight
O n the long trek upward to a lookout where he could see for miles around, Rio dug his boots into the mountainside. Carefully he kept tight to the tree line, out of sight of anyone possibly watching. His binoculars swung on his neck and the cold tried to creep through his clothing.
He was glad of the low temperature because it helped douse the raging desire he’d felt for Becca. Getting cooped up for two days in that shack with the young, sexy spitfire had tested his restraint. This morning, when she’d shimmied her ass against his dick and began to slide her fingers down her pants to pleasure herself, he’d nearly lost it.
He didn’t think he’d ever been as hard as he’d been at that moment. All he could think about was plunging deep inside her, bringing her to the orgasm of her life, and then doing it again. And again. He wanted to suck on those luscious breasts, lick his way down her neck, her belly, to her sweet nether regions. He’d make her come like a landslide crashing down the mountain.
But she’d said no.
At last he reached the stand of concealing boulders and crept through them to lie on his stomach. He lifted the field glasses. From his perch on high, he was careful not to silhouette himself against the sky. Miles to the south, he saw only the normal vistas of hillsides and small ranchitas. Plumes of smoke rose from several chimneys, warming the small and modest homes.
To the east he saw no unusual activity. The roads were quiet and not well traveled. To the west were only more mountains. The cartel had moved on.
For a moment Rio considered not telling Becca. He felt certain that if they stayed one more night, he could work his wiles and convince her that sex with him would be wonderful. He’d never had any trouble bedding women. The two of them could enjoy a long day and night of lovemaking under the quilts. He couldn’t imagine a more exhilarating interlude. Those hours would be plenty of time to slake his thirst for her and then deliver her to Harrison’s men. After that, he could be on his way.
She wouldn’t go unrewarded. He’d give her all the orgasms she wanted and more. For several moments he allowed the notion of giving her those memories to hover pleasantly in his thoughts.
Rio rubbed his neck and came back to reality. The men hunting her were no longer in the area and that meant it was time to leave. He disliked making the decision, but he was paid to do a job.
He’d do it.
Taking out his cell phone, high on the mountainside, he was able to get one bar of connectivity and called Harrison. Quickly he made arrangements to rendezvous with a Black Eagle team Harrison would send some forty miles to the north. He and Becca would leave at nightfall, quit the area under the cover of darkness.
Halfway down the mountain, Rio stopped beside a stand of trees, opened his pants and took himself in hand. Thinking of Becca’s rounded ass rubbing against him, he jerked off into the snow. If he was going to survive more hours with her in that cabin, it was necessary. He’d told her he didn’t force women, and he didn’t. However, a man had his limits. Jerking off was the only way to get through spending more time alone with the alluring Rebecca De Monte.
Returning to the shack, he yanked open the door and stepped inside. Before he could slam the door, his breath strangled in his throat.
She was nude from the waist up.
Becca sat on the bed washing her face and arms with a piece of towel dampened from a water bottle. Her back was to him, but startled by his entry, she turned and gasped. Her breasts bounced.
“I thought you’d be gone longer,” she said, breathless.
He gaped, stared, almost swallowed his tongue.
Full, rounded, and with light pink areolas, they were the most perfect tits he’d ever seen. He went instantly hard. A droplet of water clung to one sweet nipple and his mouth went dry. Both her nipples were puckered, as though hoping for a man to suckle them. Hoping for him . He’d pay a king’s ransom to sip from that breast. He’d give all he owned for a single taste.
She whirled away, and snatched up a garment from the bed to cover her chest. Yet she’d turned too late and he’d gotten a clear view of her glorious breasts.
All the furious beating off into the snow he could ever do would not douse even the tiniest spark of desire he had for Rebecca De Monte. He knew that now.
She hurried to pull a garment over her head, and he saw that it was one of his old white t-shirts. She must have gotten it from his bag. While not snug, the fabric was worn and thin. It lay over her chest with only the barest of covering. The outlines of her breasts were obvious. Her nipples thrust against the cotton and he stared at them. He was wholly unable to blink.
“Sorry,” she said, eyes downcast. “I—I’ve been wearing my shirt and bra for over a week and I stink.” She gestured at a small pile of clothing she’d thrown onto the floor. “Couldn’t stand it anymore.” She gave a weak laugh. “Like I said, I thought you’d be gone longer.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said hoarsely. Turning away from her, he took off his coat and cap and squeezed his eyes closed.
Mercy!
For something to do, he knelt at the cooler and took out a red apple, two granola bars and two bottles of water. With a folding knife from his pocket, he closed the cooler, sat on top and peeled the apple. He tried to still his shaking hands.
When she said nothing further, his brain slowly began to clear. What a coincidence that was, him coming in and finding her damn near nude. Yeah, sure.
Men in his line of work didn’t like coincidences, didn’t believe in them. They were to be distrusted, disbelieved.
Had Becca wanted him to see her?
Rio stopped in mid-peel. He glanced up at her and found her staring at her fingernails. As though she thought the thin t-shirt maintained her modesty, she made no move to cover herself further. Staring at her nipples, he felt his mouth water. A simmering satisfaction started low in his gut and rose into his chest. If she even wanted him a little, he now knew what to do. Hadn’t she been the one to rub her butt cheeks against his cock?
****
“I t wasn’t really a coincidence today, was it?” Rio asked Becca suddenly. The apple in his hand, he paused, mid-peel.
Becca jerked her head up and she wondered what was on his mind now. “What?”
“You know what I mean. Me coming in. You half naked.”
She sputtered. “You think I planned that?”
He showed his teeth. “Didn’t you?”
“No!” Still sitting on the bed, she faced away from him. “You’re crazy.”
Rio set down his apple. “You don’t have to be afraid of me. If it happens—us two in the bed—it will be your choice. Hell, it’ll be your idea. Okay?”
“You’re damn right.” As she climbed back beneath the quilts, Becca fumed. How dare he assume she’d been waiting for him with her breasts on full display? Why, the idea was ridiculous. He was crazy. She’d merely taken her time, thoroughly washing her arms, her chest, her face. Of course she knew he was coming back.
While he was gone, it was only natural to give her poor beleaguered thoughts some free rein. For almost a week she’d been terrified, knocked sideways, sick, out of control. Finally she’d been able to let some of her tension subside. Before then, she’d hadn’t a moment to herself to relax, to do even the smallest thing. She wanted a wash. So what?
So what if during that time she’d indulged in a little sensual fantasizing? Particularly the fantasies she secretly desired ... exhibitionism. Perhaps the big strong Viking-looking man might come back and catch her bathing? What difference would it make if she slowed her ablutions and let her mind take flight? He’d seemed intensely interested in her breasts. For her entire adult life, she’d always had ultra-sensitive nipples. In the past, she’d encouraged her few lovers to concentrate on lightly pinching them, rolling them in their fingers, suckling them. It made her lower extremities pulse in delicious throbbing heat. When attention had been paid to them during lovemaking, she always reached orgasm in a hurry.
She knew her face was attractive, even pretty. However, she’d never tried to fool herself that she was beautiful. She kept herself fit and her hips were slim, her legs shapely. Yet there was no doubt that her breasts were her best feature. Was there anything wrong with a woman enjoying what providence had given her?
What could be the harm in allowing an appreciative man like Rio a glimpse?
She forced herself to consider his conclusion: had it been a coincidence, when he’d come in to gaze upon her nude flesh? She pondered the thought and felt a tiny smile come to her lips.
Well ... maybe a little.
****
R io had been right about his chances of seducing her, and now he knew it was possible. She wanted him, but like a skittish, wild doe, she needed charming, wanted leading, would respond to tender coaxing.
He would provide that coaxing.
“Breakfast is ready,” he said, setting the food on top of the cooler. “But first I’ll need to see your wound. Gotta change the dressing.” He moved to sit by her on the bed.
“Okay.” She sat up and slid her leg outside the quilts.
With both hands, he glided the fabric of her pants up past her knee, making sure his warm hands slid along her skin. With care, he peeled away the bandage. The wound was healing. Deliberately he smiled gently into her eyes. “Looks good.”
From the first aid kit, he pulled out fresh gauze and tape and took his time replacing the old dressing. It became necessary to hold her soft calf with one hand in order to cover the wound. “Does it hurt?”
“Only if I bang it into something or move too much,” she answered. “The gauze is helping protect it.” She eyed his face. “So, can we leave today? Are those kidnappers gone?”
He hesitated. “Maybe we can go tonight,” he said, “or maybe in the morning,” knowing full well they would have to leave when dusk fell.
There was lots of time between then and now, many hours of pleasure possible during the interim.
He pulled her pants leg down over the dressing and scooted closer to her on the bed. Smoothing a strand of hair off her face, he said, “Becca, somehow we got off on the wrong foot. I like you. You didn’t deserve to be stolen away. You deserve to be delivered home.” He was surprised to find that he meant it. He caressed her slim shoulders. “Remember, I promised to get you back to your dad, and I will.” He tried to project sincerity through his gaze.
As she returned his look, he saw the first hint of vulnerability in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.
It was all the opening he needed. Grateful women could at times be convinced to lie down.
“You’re welcome,” he said, easing her back into the pillows. Using his fingers, he tilted up her chin and smiled. Her brown eyes wide, she stared up at him, her lips parted. His gaze dropped to her mouth. Slowly, he lowered his head.