Cherry Adair - T-flac 03 (15 page)

"So I got on the plane. I hate flyin', did I mention that? I am so scared of flying. Waaaay scared," she added lugubriously.

"Shhhh!" She used his penis as one would a finger up to her lips. Kyle choked back a laugh. "Don't tell,

'k?"

"Sweetheart, I won't tell a soul—Whoa! that's not a rubber hose, gently there." He stroked the bright silky mass of her hair, his tenderness in no way mirroring what Delanie was up to.

He felt as if he were in a porno flick as she fueled his own powerfully dark needs.

"All right, that's it, upsidaisy." He managed to drag her to her feet without hurting either of them, his erection abundant and painful. He tried to read the fleeting expression on her face. God. There was nothing simple, nor easily accomplished with this woman. She was a mass of contradictions even when she was almost mindless with desire. Her damp body felt absurdly light. Her sultry brown eyes showed both need and vulnerability; she felt fragile between his hands.

So she'd gone to the hotel to have sex with the fiancé who thought she was a prudish kindergarten teacher. The son of a bitch had given this woman an ultimatum. A crude, cruel, insensitive ultimatum, by a crude, cruel, and insensitive lout. Show up at the hotel in appropriate underwear or else.

Well, you jerk. She showed up. But somehow or other
I'm
the one who got lucky.

"Let's reserve a date to discuss this when you know what you're doing, okay?"

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" 'kay," she agreed, worrying her lower lip for a moment as he got a firm grip on his trunks and started to pull them up. Agile as a gymnast she inserted one foot into the crotch of his restrictive swimsuit and stepped them to the floor before flinging herself against him, rubbing and grinding her body in a motion guaranteed to make him as wild as she was.

"No fair." He couldn't help his body's immediate reaction, but he firmly held her away from him, feeling the perspiration of control bead his skin. The imagination that had kept him going, kept him alive many a time, paled at the reality of seeing Delanie Eastman naked, and
willing
, again.

God, she was gorgeous. Sleek, toned, tanned all over, small high breasts flushed with the drugged fever racing through her veins. He couldn't remember when he'd ever been this hard.

Or hot.

Or honorable.

"I am not going to make love to you now," he told her regretfully. "Soon, but not
now
, and not
here
." He gave her slender shoulders a shake. She licked her lower lip in a provocative manner meant to drive him to the brink. He closed his eyes briefly, praying for the strength not to jump her bones and say hell with the whys, whos, and wheres.

"Good," she said grimly, "I don't
want
you to make love to me." She looked him straight in the eye, edging him toward the bed. "I want you to fuck my brains out.
Now
."

Kyle groaned.

She pushed.

They fell on the bed together in a tangled heap of arms and legs. Their lower bodies miraculously, perfectly, aligned.

He must have been a very bad boy at one time, he thought fleetingly, to be punished like this. Delanie was frantic, her skin felt hot, moist, electrified. She licked his nipple, then sucked it. He almost came out of his skin.

She whimpered, looking up at him with beseeching, dilated eyes. He
had
to help her.

Yeah, right
, he mocked,
how altruistic of me
!

It would be unconscionable of him to make love to her when she had no control over what was happening, he warned himself.

"Help me," she moaned, gripping his hand so hard he winced. He was beyond feeling pain, but obviously so was Delanie in her frenzied plea for release.

She didn't seem to care which body part fitted where. Just that he did the deed quickly. "Now," she begged. "Do it now."

She was quick. God, she was quick. Flinging one leg over his hips to hold him in place, she plunged herself to completion. All he had time for was to marvel at the furnace of slick heat surrounding him and it
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was over. She slumped against his chest, her slender body racked with shudders, her skin damp with sweat, sawing breath antagonizing his already raw nerve endings. He was hard as a rock inside her, tortured by a million contracting muscles, a hot wet mouth, and siren hands.

She pulled his mouth to the voluptuous moistness of hers for a mind-blowing mating of teeth and tongue and then dragged her upper body off his chest. Sweat ran down her temples into her hair as she kneaded his chest with her hands and squeezed her knees around his hips.

"Don't stop," she sobbed, "for God's sake, don't stop."

He flipped her onto her back without breaking contact. Half-lidded eyes glittered feverishly as, using both hands in a rough sweep of his back, she dug her nails into his butt urging him deeper inside her. With a driving thrust that had her fingernails drawing blood, he did exactly as the lady asked.

He knew he was going to pay for this. And pay big.

Then he just didn't give a damn anymore.

«^»

"How're you holding up?" Kyle's voice reverberated through her headset over the
whop-whop-whop
din of the blades above them.

"Just dandy." Horny, embarrassed, angry, scared. All of the above about covered it. So much so, in fact, that her normal sky terror hadn't even figured into the equation. Not so far anyway. Thank God for small mercies.

"No thanks to you," she added.

"What do
I
have to do with it?"

"Are you saying you
didn't
Mickey my drink?"

"Yeah, sure. Right after I hauled two hundred plus pounds of snake into the swimming pool and took the risk of it choosing
me
for an afternoon snack."

Delanie had no idea what
he
was so mad about. He'd gotten what he'd wanted. In spades. She refused to turn her head. Instead, she concentrated on their slow descent to the pencil-thin dirt airstrip as she crunched a couple of antacids and clung to the seat with a white-knuckled grip.

She didn't know whether to believe him or not. Only minutes before the drug had taken its disastrous effect, he'd been threatening her. In the swimming pool. With a woman-eating snake. What was she supposed to think?

She wasn't paranoid for God's sake.

They
were
all out to get her.

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Delanie rubbed the nagging ache between her eyes, feeling lost, scared, and totally out of her depth as the helicopter rose again to make a lazy circle over the field below. Her memory, after he'd dragged her from the swimming pool, was hazy at best. She remembered Montero shooting the boy. She remembered creepy Isabella in her room. She remembered drinking a glass of wine… She remembered feeling her senses expanding beyond normal bounds. And she remembered enough of what happened with Kyle between then and now to be mortified.

If she ever remembered
all
of it she would probably have to move to the farthest reaches of the Antarctic. Or have a frontal lobotomy.

She looked down. This was the same airstrip she and Montero had departed from only a few days ago.

God, she'd had no idea what she was letting herself in for then.

Montero's people ruthlessly sprayed the area around the small landing strip to keep out fast-growing vegetation. The resulting scar was the small, discreet clearing, effectively hidden by the dense rain forest.

Behind them now rose the high peaks of Izquierdo, and Ramon Montero's compound with its cloak and dagger atmosphere and its shadowy memories of the past several hours. Delanie was unsure if she had indeed left the danger behind, or if, instead, she'd accompanied the worst of it to San Cristobal.

Unfortunately it was particularly hard to concentrate, feeling as she did. Horny, nauseous, and terrified.

She tried to focus on something else. Choices were sadly limited at the moment.

Her nipples still throbbed beneath the circumspect white T-shirt. Obviously one of his shirts he'd shoved over her head before their hasty departure. She gave up trying to think about other stuff. She was consumed with thoughts of what the drug had done, and was
still
doing to her.

"What did you tell them we were doing in there for hours? I presume it
was
hours?"

"In the bedroom, two hours and twenty minutes. Considering you were wailing like a banshee it would have been damn impossible to convince them we were in there playing Parcheesi." He paused. "On the way to the chopper, forty minutes, in the maintenance shed? Only thirty." Kyle's voice was dry. Delanie gritted her teeth.

He brought the chopper down lightly in the middle of the airfield. The rotors kicked up clods of dirt and vegetation.

"What a prince." Feeling grimmer, she waved away Kyle's helping hand and removed the headset and seatbelt herself. She'd rather die than have him know she needed sex again. "I meant about why we had to race from bedroom to helicopter and hotfoot it to town."

"I told them I preferred to screw without everyone hearing me in surround sound."

"And here I thought you weren't a gentleman, silly me."

"I have a job to do here. Trust me, no one gave a shit what I did with you one way or the other."

"Oh, someone cared all right," she said bitterly, still filled with annoying yearnings and throbbings.

"Enough to give me their very best anyway." She didn't want to think about the repercussions of just
what
it was they'd given to her. Not now when she had other, more important things to concentrate on. Like keeping one step ahead of Kyle Wright. She shot him a look filled with suspicion. "What kind of job?"

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"A shipment to pick up at customs and a little favor to perform for Montero. It should all be taken care of by lunchtime tomorrow."

"Thanks so much for dragging me along." She was being sarcastic, but what would she have done if Kyle had left her there feeling like this? She shuddered at the thought.

"Hey, you told me you loved me, how could I leave you behind?" he asked lazily.

Her heart stopped midbeat. Sadistic swine. She was pretty sure she hadn't said any such thing. She'd never even
thought
the words, let alone said them out loud. "People on drugs believe they can fly, too,"

she managed calmly. "If I did say anything like that, it didn't mean anything. I would have told Ross Perot I loved him to get what I needed at the time."

"Just wanted me for my body?" he lamented. "How lowering."

"I didn't need
you
personally, nor did I require a whole body," she pointed out pithily. "How long do you think this will last?"

"No idea." He paused. She could feel him watching her. "Still have the hots?"

Yes. But it wasn't nearly as intense as it had been a couple of hours ago. Not that she'd tell him, either way. "Do you think whatever it was is addictive?"

Kyle laughed darkly. "It is to me."

She scowled. "
You
weren't the one who took it."

"I'm the one with bloody claw marks on my back and bruises on my ass from your heels digging in. I think I took it like a champ."

"I'm delighted you were so entertained."

Two men raced across the small airfield, ducking under the spinning rotors to open the doors. Delanie got enough of the conversation to understand that the disreputable vehicle parked a hundred yards away was for their use. Slinging the strap of her canvas bag over her shoulder, she accepted a hand down from the soldier on her side of the chopper and strode to the military jeep parked under the trees. Walking fast made her legs rub together, which made the problem worse.

The vehicle was unlocked, the keys in the ignition. Delanie slouched in the passenger seat and stared at the green canvas ceiling. Kyle wasn't going to be able to get rid of her this easily.

Okay, so they'd managed to give her some kind of sex drug. She'd live.

She was perfectly aware she was in way over her head. She'd make that work for her.

And yes, damn it, she
knew
Kyle Wright was the
last
person she should ever have had sex with. That didn't mean she'd ever do it with him again.

Kyle slid into the car, and adjusted the torn plastic-covered seat to accommodate his long legs. He glanced over at her before starting the jeep.

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She slouched down lower. The harder she tried to ignore the rapacious need for having Kyle hard, naked, and inside her, the more difficult it became. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest as her nipples pulsed. She crossed her legs, then uncrossed them. God, how long could this stuff last?

It already felt like an eternity.

The late afternoon sun beat in on her side of the vehicle, which smelled of beer and the previous driver's sweat. Dust kicked up by the tires sifted through the ill-fitting windows, exacerbating her physical woes.

She ground her back teeth together, watching the blur of trees whizzing by, trying to figure out how long she could hang on until she could get some relief.

"If you need sex, say so," he said shortly, taking a corner on two wheels causing her to bang her shoulder against the door. "If not, then for God's sake stop squirming."

"There's more than one way to skin a cat, Dr. Compassionate." A few minutes behind a locked door by herself, and she'd be right as rain.

"I'm not going to be leaving you alone long enough to pick up some poor unsuspecting bastard in a bar,"

he said unyieldingly. "It's me or no one, sweetheart."

No one
, she thought with grim determination. He shifted gears. He had long tapered fingers and lean, darkly tanned, masculine hands with short square nails. Big hands. Hands that she wanted to feel on various annoyingly throbbing body parts. Even the humid blast of the wind couldn't combat the sweat breaking out along her hairline and under her breasts.