Authors: Cristin Harber
He laughed quietly. “Guess I could find out. But I’d rather talk to you.”
Just like that, Javier could turn the conversation and make her melt. “It’s late.”
“I can’t sleep.”
She smiled. “So you woke me up?” That was fine with her even if she couldn’t voice anything but snippy bitchiness. Where had he been? And he was worried about her?
“You want me to let you go, paixão?”
“Of course not.”
Because when you say that word, my insides turn to liquid even weeks later.
She hated how there was an instantaneous reaction to him—to how he sounded and the thoughts of how he held her and made her body feel.
“Good.”
“Good,” she replied, curling into a ball with her phone pressed to her ear. “You hurt my feelings.”
“I’m an asshole.”
“It’s not because you had to leave Honduras. I get it. Work. You’re in; you’re out. But it was—”
“Talking in your room.” Regret tinged his words. “About my sister.”
“Yeah.” The vivid memory of him hot and protective morphing into cold and mechanical made her stomach turn. “What… happened?”
“It was like a switch flipped. I shut down.”
“That hurt, Javier.” She closed her eyes, needing to forget that night but wanting to emotionally keep her distance.
“Hurt both of us.” He cleared his throat. “When news hit about the embassy attack…”
“Yeah,” she whispered. How to put into words what she wanted and couldn’t have, what he had and wouldn’t give? She would’ve died to have him as her savior as much as she wished to never hear from him again. “Where are you?”
He heaved a sigh, evidently of the same mindset and begrudgingly letting her change the subject. “Some vacation island.”
“Oh, fancy.”
“If I had half a chance to choose, we’d be in Pennsylvania.”
Her heart clutched, and laughing quietly, she asked, “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Not much here. Philly has some nice things to do. Main line. Pittsburgh and Primanti’s if you like fries in your food. Or State College if you’re into football.”
“Stop, Sophia. I’m into
you
. Because I’d want to see you.”
“Liar, liar.”
“I almost lost you.”
Sophia pinched the bridge of her nose, unable to take the back-and-forth but not wanting to play games or miss him more. “So, Delta’s on a vacation island. Complete with beach time and coconut rum?”
He paused, taking in what she’d said. “Something like that. Work hard, play hard.”
“I can only imagine what you guys were doing.”
“Not what I wanted to, Sophia. I’ve done
nothing
I’ve wanted to in two weeks.”
She let seconds hang on the phone. Her insides twisted. She needed to hear him say it. “And that was find me?”
“Yeah, paixão,” he growled.
Her stomach dropped, fluttering. It was the command he had over such an innocent term.
Paixão.
When he said that, her body trembled as though the word was a tactile touch that swam over her flesh.
“Sophia?” he asked, bringing her back from a heated, needy moment.
She licked her lips and took a breath, needing to get a hold of herself. “What does a Delta boy do for fun on an island? I bet girls in bikinis flock like groupies.”
Even if Javier hadn’t looked as if he’d been blessed by an island god—which he most certainly did—all he had to do was talk, and panties would drop.
“What did I do for fun?”
“Yeah,” she whispered.
“Call you.”
“Oh.” And
that
she felt all the way in her tummy. “You certainly know what to say.”
He laughed quietly in her ear. “What does that mean?”
She closed her eyes and tried to slow her racing thoughts. Admitting to him that she was turned on and missing him worse than ever just because of a simple conversation wasn’t the best strategic move. “Nothing.”
Seconds hung on the phone again, as though he had more to say, and she couldn’t hang up.
“Soph, I have some time off coming up. And you’re home. So you do too.”
Again, need swirled through her. What did she say to that? What did he want—crazy good sex? But how would that leave her feeling? Empty. She wouldn’t be in Pennsylvania long-term, and he would never be the guy who stayed home, and she was already so caught up in him that it would hurt when he left.
That was what guys like Javier did. They didn’t come home. They didn’t fall in love. They didn’t have families and babies and warm houses that were really homes, unlike the museum she was staying in at the moment. They didn’t do what she wanted, so why was she mentally rejoicing over the opportunity to see him?
“I can’t.” Disappointed tears she wouldn’t shed sprung into her eyes.
“Yes, you can.”
Her arms ached to be in his again. Everything tingled on the inside at the thought of him kissing her, sliding into her, and it wasn’t just her body that
really
appreciated how talented the man was. It was her swelling, aching heart that was seesawing between bursting and crying that very second. “We had a great week in Honduras. That’s all it was.”
What sounded like a determined rumble met her ears. “No. We had a great night months ago when I was lucky you were strong enough to walk away from the altar. That night stuck with me, stuck with you. That was a great night. Honduras was
more
.”
She gulped but didn’t respond.
“Nothing to say?
More
doesn’t work? How about
intense
?”
“Intense. Good word.” Her throat hurt as she choked down emotion that was too much to feel toward someone who wasn’t boyfriend material. “But it was just a week.”
“In a war zone, a week is like a year.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Coração, tell me those days together didn’t make something inside you feel.”
She bit her lip, knowing that he spoke the truth. “Maybe so.”
“Better,” he said. “You know what I think? That I fucked up. That I missed out on months of hanging out with you. After the wedding, then leaving Honduras.”
Tears slipped free. “Javier, stop.”
“I want your arms around me, Sophia. I need them. Sinking into you, feeling your body come for me? That’s my world. My… need.”
Sex. That was all it would be: mind-blowing sex. Nothing would come of it, and she wanted a
partner
—everything she’d felt with Javier
but with roots
.
“Say something, Soph.”
She wiped wayward tears away as she readied her defenses. “Where do you live? Like where do you pay rent?”
“I don’t.”
“And where is your car? Your truck? Whatever you drive.”
“Wherever the job is.”
“
Your
vehicle.”
“Sold it.”
She pressed. “Because?”
“Because?”
“Yes,” Sophia shot back, needing to hang on to the fragile void she was pushing between them. “Because?”
“Because if I need a ride, Titan hooks me up. Wherever I sleep, Delta’s bedding down.”
All of that she knew. That was Colin too. She knew the lifestyle. “And now you have time off, you think it’d be fun to hook up—”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what? State the facts?”
“Play down what we have.”
“
Had.
” Tears stung her cheeks as she tried in vain to believe her lies. “It was a week. A freakin’ week. I know I’m way too messed up over it, but I also know that it was only a few days of awesome sex.”
“Stop it. Don’t do that to me.”
“Do what?” She pushed herself up from the pillow. “We—”
“I have
very
few memories that I hang onto. That time with you? It’s on the short list. Don’t drag that through the mud just to make yourself feel better.”
Was fighting him away worth protecting her heart, when her arms felt empty without him, and her chest housed an ache that she’d never before experienced? Her lungs hurt; her throat closed. Punishing tears burned down her cheeks. She’d hurt him while trying to protect herself. “Javier, I’m—”
“Stop. Okay?” His husky voice scraped over her with a rawness and realness that she could feel into her soul.
“Okay.” She clutched the phone, praying that the back-and-forth of reality and wistfulness would even out and what hurt and what she wished for would level.
“I lost months of hanging out with you because I didn’t know better. Now I do.”
She sniffled quietly, trying to keep the truth of her emotions from him. “Now you know what?”
“Then I lost weeks away from you after Honduras and, shit, probably years off my life when I heard about the mortar attacks on the Honduras embassy.”
Her stomach spun, and her mind melted, but just because the right words poured off his tongue, that didn’t change who he was. He wasn’t built for the life she wanted. Javier Almeida was emotional trauma waiting to happen. “You don’t have a home. You don’t have a car. We’d never work.”
“Truck,” he corrected.
Just like him to ignore the point, which made her smile and long for his kiss. “Whichever,” she whispered. “You don’t have one.”
“No. I do not.”
“I’m not made for a man like you. I’m not as strong as you need. I’m too much—too invested; too alive. I feel too deeply for something that you can’t be. I’m just not… for you.” Stifling a sob, she pinched her eyes closed, but it did nothing to slow her tears.
“Every indication says that you are, paixão.”
With that, she couldn’t hide the sob. Quiet though it was, it tore from her throat from the depth of her heart. “Javier, I can’t. You’re built to hunt. You said so yourself. You can’t be what I need, and I can’t give you what you’re desperate for.”
“I’m desperate for you. Sophia. Do you get that?
You.
”
“No. You breathe for revenge, and I won’t hold you back.”
“God! Throwing my words in my face.”
“When you left, I was broken. Shattered into a thousand numb pieces. I didn’t feel that way walking away from my stupid ex at the altar. It’s scary. You’re scary. To me. You’ve hugged me, held me. Made me forget about the reality of our lives. I can’t give you anything like you gave me, and you don’t deserve what I want. You want to avenge your sister. You should. I believe it in my gut. More than I believe that you should be with me.”
“Sophia…”
“More than I have stupid dreams about you holding me in a house that looks like a home. Not this formal bedroom where you made love to me.”
Silence hung on the phone. She never should have admitted that. Crap.
“Soph?”
“What?” She sniffled.
“You’re lying in that bed? Now?”
“Yes, but what’s the point? I’m miserable.”
“Misery loves company.”
“Wrong thing to say,” she said.
“Look, I don’t know—”
“I’m headed back out on a job again soon. It’ll take my mind off you. You should concentrate on what you need.” She stifled a sob. “Okay?”
“Stop it, Soph.”
“I hope you get what you need, and after that, I hope someone hugs you, holds you, and puts you back together the way you did me.” Then she hung up and cried herself into a dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Javier startled and blinked into the darkness, unsure of how he’d fallen asleep when his gut and head hurt. He scrubbed his eyes and stared into the dark. What had woken him up?
His phone chirped, and his attention turned to the culprit. A text waited to be read. He checked the time. Twenty after two in the morning. The guys were insane if they thought he was dragging himself out of bed to head back to the bar.
Javier swiped the screen and opened a text from Brock.
HQ has the intel you’re looking for.
He sat upright, not believing the screen. Maybe this was something to help him torture himself after feeling Sophia’s burn. Javier pressed Brock’s name on the screen and put the ringing phone to his ear.
“We’re a go this time, Brazil.” Brock didn’t mess with the bullshit of small talk, and for that, Javier was appreciative. “His name is Rodrigo Moreira, and he’s the key to everything you want to know about your sister.”
Excitement. Elation. Vicious, blood-hungry vengeance. They all played for top billing in his mind. “What’s the plan?”
“Wheels up at oh-six hundred. Headed to HQ then off again. So pack your shit, and I’ll see you in a couple hours.”
The line went dead, and Javier fell back on the mattress, holding the cell and wanting to call Sophia to tell her there was progress. But that wasn’t all his life was about—avenging Adélia. His eyes sank shut. Wasn’t it?