Blue Knight (11 page)

He closed his eyes.

Téra gave in to the need that had driven her for weeks. She pressed her lips against his soft, passionate ones, feeling their fullness and the unexpected heat of them. She hadn’t been prepared for the heat. The unyielding firmness behind them, yes, she had guessed that would be there. But not this warmth, endowed with his scent like a candle giving off an aromatic glow. Téra held on with one arm, not questioning whether he would hold her. She knew he would not let her fall. She used her other hand to run her fingertips—finally—over his face and then his lips, before replacing them with her mouth before he could protest once more.

She used her hand to push his shirt aside as much as she could, to reveal his shoulders and upper arms.

He stood like a rock, unmoving. He did not respond to her kisses. He did not let her go. He did not even seem to breathe.

Téra lifted herself away from him so she could see the lines and planes of his face in the moonlight. His eyes were black pits.

“Are you finished, little girl?” he asked softly.

The ridicule stung, but she knew he said it only to try to deflect her. She let herself slide down to the soft, cool sand to stand in front of him. “I know you want me, Lucas. I just don’t know why you won’t take me.”

“You’ll never have that answer, child. It is beyond your comprehension.” His tone was withering.

“I won’t give up,” Téra told him. “I will find what it is that is stopping you, Lucas. I’ll destroy it.” She stroked the front of his trousers, where his cock rested heavy and solid along his hip. She scraped her fingernail over the fabric where she could feel the delicious ridge of the cap of his cock, teasing it through the fibers.

Lucas’ hand snapped over her wrist, the fingers digging into her flesh hard. “Damn it, Téra,” he growled. His other hand thrust into her hair and her head was tugged backward, bringing her face up so he could peer into it. His lips, those soft lips, hovered inches from hers, but fury radiated from him. “Just because you are the sister of the wonderful Colonel Peña and his American wife and their privileged connections to the great Escobedo family, it does not mean you get to have everything you want in life. Don’t you understand that yet? Did your time in Zalaya’s hellhole not teach you anything?”

Suddenly she was free of his cruel grip on her hair and wrist. She staggered backward a little, staring at Lucas’ dark shape as she massaged her wrist.

She picked the hem of her dress up out of the sand. “Well, I didn’t turn into the world-class cynic you want me to be. I learned that life can be cut brutally and unfairly short, so it’s better to live it to the full while you can. I want my life to include you, Lucas. You’d better figure out what you want to do with that.” She headed back toward the lighted area where the wedding party was still going strong, far down the beach.

“Don’t do this, Téra,” he said from behind her.

“If you really don’t want me to do it, stop me now,” Téra called back. “If I get back to the wedding and you don’t stop me, I’ll know that deep down, you really want this.”

“Damn it, if I touch you now, we both know what will happen,” Lucas growled.

“Then you’ve got two things to work out, don’t you?” Téra said sweetly. She didn’t look back and she kept walking. Her heart was screaming at her by the time she stepped back onto the dance floor.

She circled around to the tables where the wine was being served. She needed a serious drink. She felt like she had just baited a jaguar and won by the skin of her teeth.

* * * * *

Ibarra saluted smartly as the long limousine came to a smooth halt inside the compound. He was sweating profusely despite the cool of the early evening. Four more armed guards hurried to form a square around the back door of the limousine and a subaltern opened the door with a salute and click of his heels.

General Serrano eased himself out of the car and looked around. “This place is a mess,” he observed. After a moment he flicked his fingers to his cap, which released Ibarra from his salute.

Ibarra relaxed from parade stance, but didn’t let his mental guard down. “We’re slowly clearing up the compound as I can spare the men, General. My first priority is security, of course.”

Serrano grunted as he looked up at the walls of the hotel. “It used to be a great place for parties, once.”

“I’m sure once peace has been restored, we can return the White Sands to its former glory,” Ibarra said smoothly.

“We have peace,” Serrano snapped.

“Of course we do,” Ibarra returned, mentally wincing over his gaffe. “I meant, once the last lingering traces of the old government have been wiped away and full diplomatic relations have been restored with the rest of the world, of course.”

Serrano readjusted the band of his pants under his belly. “So show me the mess you’ve created on the inside of this place. I hope it is not as bad as the outside, Ibarra. One disaster a day is all I can tolerate.”

Ibarra waved Serrano toward the wide stone stairs that swept up to the foyer of the hotel and sent a hand signal to his lieutenant, who slipped back inside to warn the others.

The President was here.

* * * * *

The guards were nervous and distracted, so Olivia found it easy to ask for permission to go to the washroom, then find a moment when they weren’t looking and dodge back into the corridors of the hotel.

She knew they would find her again quickly enough, because unlike Daniel, she didn’t know where all the cameras were placed and wasn’t able to avoid their one-eyed gaze. As soon as whoever was monitoring the cameras realized she was wandering the corridors, they’d send a guard to round her up and bring her back to the public rooms with the rest of the herd.

She even had her excuse ready to go. “Oh, I just wanted to get some tampons from my room.” The mention of feminine hygiene supplies tended to wither and embarrass the most macho of men and would stop them from questioning her further.

But for the few minutes until they caught up with her, she could enjoy the illusion of personal freedom and a few minutes alone to think and not have to worry about what was showing on her face, or who was watching her. She could find a closet, or a private corner and relax in almost total privacy—a rare luxury here.

Olivia wandered the corridors for a few minutes, taking random turns and corners, pushing through doorways, letting herself get deliberately lost. She found herself in back passages and service corridors, with squeaky linoleum and scratched paintwork. These hallways were new to her and a novel distraction. She realized with a thrill that there was a good chance there were no security cameras in these areas at all.

She wandered through a large kitchen area that was still, silent and cold with steel and shadows, before pushing through double-wide doors into an equally wide service corridor and walking down that. Ahead, she could hear the approach of many feet. She hesitated. She couldn’t afford to be caught by anyone back in this section of the hotel. Tampons wouldn’t hold up as an excuse now.

Then Daniel rounded the turn in the corridor ahead, moving fast. It was almost a run, his long legs striding out, his arms swinging. When he saw her, he checked, then came hurrying forward again. His eyes were like ice.

He grabbed her upper arm and hauled her to one side. When she took a breath to protest, his other hand slapped down over her mouth, the fingers digging into her jaw. He had no intention of letting her make a single sound. He almost lifted her off her feet as he pulled her over to the side of the corridor. The strength in him!

There was another narrow corridor just off to the side. It was almost a service access way, barely four feet wide and filled with painted pipes. It was warm and dim and unlit. He pushed her up against the wall inside the corridor and flattened himself against her, spreading his arms and legs so they covered hers.

“Don’t make a sound,” he breathed in her ear. “Don’t move at all.” He ducked his head against hers.

Hiding her hair.

Abruptly, she realized he was shielding her. Daniel was slightly darker in color and he was wearing dark clothes, while she was wearing a white shirt and soft green linen pants. In this dim light, with her hair, she’d almost glow. Anyone with decent peripheral vision would see her as they passed.

The approaching boots, many of them, were almost upon them.

With Daniel hiding her this way, Olivia couldn’t catch even a glimpse of who passed by. Instead she listened to the military precision of the boot steps. Such a large party could only mean trouble. But who? Ibarra? What was going on?

Daniel would know exactly what was happening. That was why he had appeared around the corner just before they had arrived. He had been watching them. Finding out.

She could feel his heartbeat against her. Olivia had supposed that in situations like this he would be calm, his heart rock steady, but his heart was racing.

He was warm against her. Hot like a stone baking in the sun. She could feel her body relaxing against him, like a lizard stretching out. The need to rub herself against him and soak up that heat was almost overwhelming. She curled her hands into fists, letting her fingernails bite into the flesh of her palms. The little sting helped her fight the urge.

But with Daniel completely shielding her like he was, she was almost totally immersed in his personal scent.

She closed her eyes. If he wore a cologne or aftershave it was so subtle she couldn’t detect it. Instead what she experienced was raw, masculine, spicy and so uniquely Daniel that she felt the corners of her mouth lift. She would recognize it anywhere. She turned her face a quarter inch into the nape of his neck and inhaled very gently so he would not notice.

It was the wrong thing to do, she realized. Almost immediately, a powerful wave of lust hit her, making her breasts swell, her nipples tighten. Her pussy seemed to grow heavy and thick with readiness.

She swallowed, trying to beat back the rising need with mental discipline, then simply by ignoring it. But with Daniel pressed against her, making her aware of every part of her body and of his, too, it was a challenge she wasn’t sure she wanted to win.

In the end she squeezed her eyes even more tightly closed, took a deep breath and simply waited for the moment to end. She had to ride it out. She had to.

Finally, after what seemed like two weeks had passed, the marching boots faded away. The swinging doors to the kitchen fell shut with a squeak.

Daniel’s body lifted away from her and she opened her eyes once more.

He was glaring at her. “What the fuck are you doing down here?” he growled, his voice low.

“Getting squashed to a paste against the wall by you,” she shot back. “Otherwise, none of your fucking business.”

He pushed a hand through his hair and she was amazed to realize it was shaking. “Do you know who that was?” he asked and pointed at the corridor where all the boots had just passed.

“Ibarra, I assume.” She shrugged.

He smacked the wall by her head. “Christ, Olivia, it was Serrano. Serrano!”

She licked her lips. “President Serrano? Here?”

The implications were perfectly clear to her. If the President had seen fit to personally visit the hotel, then that meant one of two things. Ibarra could have found himself a confirmed and identified American and they were about to make an announcement—which wasn’t possible because there wasn’t nearly enough chaos and upset among the hostages. The other alternative was that Serrano felt Ibarra wasn’t making fast enough progress and had come here to push things along. That meant trouble.

“If he’d seen you, Olivia, you would have been Serrano’s first interviewee,” Daniel said. “I’ve heard about Serrano’s interview techniques. He makes Ibarra look like Mother Theresa. If Serrano has run out of patience, he won’t care how he gets his confirmation now, as long as he gets it.”

Olivia shivered. “Well, he didn’t see me,” she said.

Daniel’s fury seemed to radiate off him like a furnace. “What if I’m not around next time? Or the time after that? I can’t keep pulling your coals out of the fire every time you decide to do something barmy. You’re a diplomat, Olivia. Will you please start behaving like you understand this stuff?”

“I do understand this stuff,” she said stiffly. “Better than you.”

“Then why are you acting like you failed your Basic Politics course whenever I’m around?” he growled.

“Because you’re around,” she said simply.

Daniel stared at her. His mouth opened, but he didn’t speak.

“Bet you’re not angry anymore,” she said softly.

She planned on Daniel denying he wasn’t angry and storming away, even more furious than before. Or perhaps even laughing and admitting he wasn’t angry and letting the atmosphere diminish that way. Either reaction would do, because the tension was back. The tension didn’t seem affected by their anger. Or perhaps the anger was just a mask. Her craving for him hadn’t diminished under his fury. It lay simmering just beneath. The whole time she railed at him, she was also watching his body tense and flex beneath his clothes. The way his eyes glittered in anger. The working of his muscles. The play of his lips.

In the back of her mind she wondered if he wanted her the way he had wanted her last night, or if that had been a momentary madness and soon forgotten.

Was his cock hard? Had he liked pressing himself up against her?

Almost peripherally, the questions passed through her mind as she railed at him. Now she had challenged him with her taunt, hoping he would either laugh, or go away, too angry to deal with her, because she couldn’t take this a second longer.

His reaction was not one she expected.

Daniel pressed himself up against her again, making her breath catch. His hips pressed into her and she gave a shaky, hitching gasp. His cock was iron-hard, a hot length against her stomach.

Her breasts brushed against his chest, in a delightful, light touch that made her tremble.

Daniel held her very still, his face inches from hers. His lips came a little closer. “I want you to stop fucking around with words,” he said, his voice very low and rumbling against her chest, “and start fucking me.” His lips touched hers. The lightest of brushes.