Hunger's Mate (21 page)

And he had no intention of leaving Sedona without Jewel Jenner by his side.

*   *   *

It was hours later when they stopped at an old motel miles off the highway. Jewel stood in the bathroom that was just big enough for her to turn around and put one arm out to touch the next wall. She put the toilet seat down, sat, and then lowered her head and lifted her hands to her face and let out a sob. The sensation was so foreign it hurt and yet she did it again, and again. She pressed her hands closer to her face in the hope that the sound couldn't be heard through the cheap wooden door or if it was that Ezra would stay on the other side. She couldn't handle him right now, hadn't wanted to stay seated in that truck with him as long as she had. She'd wanted to run, more urgently than she ever had before, she just wanted to open that door and go.

Another sob wracked her body, her shoulders jerking with the effort as tears spilled into her palms, running down her arms. She was stronger than this, a voice in the back of her head reminded her. She was a survivor, had always had to be. It wasn't her fault that Jacques was dead. She hadn't been the one to kill him.

But the killer had been looking for her. There was no doubt about that fact.

Larry had come looking for her and he'd killed whoever was getting in his way. Just as he'd promised her he would. She hated Lawrence Crowe, hated the moment she'd met him, the moment he'd offered to make her life easier and the second she'd accepted that offer. With a resolute sigh Jewel yanked her hands from her eyes. She reached for the toilet paper and used it to wipe her face and hands. Then she sat there another second, giving the pity party she'd indulged in its last hurrah.

She stood and went to the sink, turning on the water then looking into the dusty mirror. She still wore her curly wig and contacts and for the first time in three years realized how much she hated them. How fake and self-conscious they'd always made her feel. Sure, she'd known they were a necessity to keep her and her father safe, but now there didn't seem to be a point. After washing her hands, she pulled the wig off, dropping it into the small trash can near the door. Her naturally curly hair, just a couple shades darker than the wig she'd worn and more like auburn than red, was short. She ran her fingers through the flattened curls, fluffing them as best she could.

Next came the contacts, which after being removed, landed in the trash can right along with the wig. She blinked a few times, her eyes watering with the action. Hazel-brown with flecks that sometimes really did look gold. They were pretty and she'd always loved them, mainly because her parents had as well, but she hadn't had a lot of time to enjoy them over the past few years. Now, she would, she vowed. She would enjoy whatever the hell she wanted, otherwise Larry would win, he would always win.

And that was simply not acceptable, not anymore.

She opened the door to the other room not knowing how Ezra would react to the absence of her disguise, even though he'd seen her like this last night. He'd said her eyes were beautiful and had heated her with those words. She didn't know what she was expecting this time around, but when he looked up from where he sat on the edge of the bed and stared at her, his own green eyes growing much darker, she found her body doing more than warming.

Her legs shook as she walked closer to him and she prayed he wouldn't sense her nervousness. It was so silly. There was nothing to be nervous about, she was simply walking across the room to talk to him, to say something about what had happened. Which she feared she may have caused to happen.

“Jacques was always nice to me,” she said when she finally stopped about three feet away from him. “He never tried to hit on me and complimented my work. I thought he was a very nice man.”

Ezra didn't respond immediately. He simply looked up at her, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he stared. Whenever he did that, which seemed like each time he looked at her, she felt like he'd already undressed her and was fucking her with his eyes. And while that should have offended her and made her angry as hell, it didn't. It made her hornier than she'd ever been in her life. It made her want him—or rather, sex with him—more than she'd ever thought she'd want that physical contact with anyone, especially after her previous relationship.

“I'm sorry about what happened to him, sorry that Larry—”

“Don't!” he said, jumping up and coming closer so that he now stood barely a breath away from her.

Her lips had snapped shut at his command and she inwardly berated herself. Following a man's instructions was something she'd sworn to never do again.

Long fingers touched her cheek, moved down to trace a path along the line of her jaw and she inhaled.

“Don't say his name to me,” he said in a deep, rough voice. “Just don't say it at all.”

His tone was in stark contradiction to his lethal glare. Tension seemed to ripple through his body so that she thought if she touched him she would feel him vibrating with its force. He was upset about the loss of his friend. She could understand that, she understood all too well.

“I just meant that I'm sorry about—”

This time he touched two fingers to her lips. “Shh,” he said and she obeyed. Again. Dammit.

“I'm not weak,” she whispered when his fingers moved. He'd lifted his other hand so that now both sets of fingers were cupping her face, tilting her head up toward his.

Ezra shook his head. “No. You're not weak at all,” he told her. “You're sexy as hell and you've been driving me insane with need since the moment I saw you.”

Her legs shook, to the point this time where she thought she might melt into a puddle at his feet. Instead she gave into the need, let it guide her instead of the recriminations already running through her mind. She lifted her hands to his shoulders and held on. He was so strong, so solid, and so damned sure of himself. Men were always so sure, always so confident that what they wanted was reciprocated. She closed her eyes to the thought and to the need building steadily inside her.

“I'm a survivor,” she heard herself whisper.

“You,” he replied as his head lowered to hers, his lips touching the tip of her nose. “Are much stronger than I could ever be,” he continued, kissing one eyelid and then the other.

Tendrils of heat seared downward from her eyes to fuse her neck, to her breasts that were now swollen and achy, down her torso and finally to rest in a pool at her center.

“You've been able to hold onto your desire much better than I have.” Ezra kept talking, his lips continually touching all parts of her face, except her lips.

And damn, she wanted his lips on hers. She wanted it almost more than she wanted to escape, no matter how guilty and defeated it made her feel.

“I know what I want.” She said the words and prayed she could stand behind them. But as she said them his lips hovered over hers, his breath coming in quick, heavy pants.

“Really?” he asked, letting his hands glide from her face down her arms, around to cup her ass, gripping tightly.

She gasped, her mouth opening, just in time for him to sweep his tongue inside. It was a quick dip in and retreat that had her breath catching, a flip-flop of air going through her chest.

“Tell me what you want, Jewel,” he requested. “I love that name because you're like a precious, brilliantly gorgeous jewel.”

His tongue was moving again, this time licking the crease of her lips, gliding down along the line of her jaw. When he touched her neck, his teeth nipping not too gently and not too hard, that pinprick of pleasure/pain that almost had her eyes watering, she tilted her head back, unwittingly giving him greater access.

“I want to treasure that jewel. Hold it in my hand and caress it, stare at it from the front and the back, adore it inside and out.” He continued to talk, his hands still gripping her bottom, pushing her flush against his throbbing erection.

“So tell me, baby, tell me what you want,” he finished with a lick from the base of her throat down, down, pushing past her shirt as if it wasn't even there, until his tongue rested between the crevice of her breasts.

“I don't want to be weak,” Jewel gasped, her eyes closing, fingers gripping his back as his head remained lowered. “I don't want to obey, not again.”

And with those words Jewel was able to pull away from Ezra's grasp. When he looked at her in confusion, she shook her head.

“Don't say it,” she told him as she tried to steady her own breathing. “I know what I want and I know how to get it, on my own terms.”

She could tell he hadn't expected those words, hadn't expected her to be able to move from his very enticing grip. He stood there in front of her, his body rigid with arousal, his erection thick as it pressed against the front of his slacks, down his left thigh. The sight made her mouth water, her pussy pulsate, and her decision was solidified.

“I know exactly what I want,” she said again, taking a step toward him and reaching for the hem of his shirt. “The question is, are you willing to let me take it?”

“Oh, hell yeah,” he said, lifting his arms up immediately so she could pull the shirt over his head.

His chest was beautiful, perfectly chiseled and sculpted, so hard to the touch and yet his skin had a silky kind of appeal as her fingers moved eagerly over each pectoral, down his washboard abs. She couldn't help herself, or rather, she didn't want to help herself. She didn't want to be afraid or timid, not this time, not with this man. She wanted, for the very first time in her life to have a sexual experience that wouldn't leave her afraid and disgusting, still reaching for something more.

Last night as Ezra had touched her, kissed her, brought her to climax, she'd known it would be him, known—even though she'd decided to run—that he would be the only one to bring her pleasure.

Now, she was going to take that pleasure. If Larry could go out and take innocent lives in search of another person that simply did not belong to him, then she could take this man, this one night of ecstasy she knew he could provide, and she could cherish it for the rest of her life. She was going to have to, since come tomorrow morning she would disappear, and Ezra Preston would become a part of her past—a very enticing part.

She kissed his chest, let her tongue glide over his pebbled nipple and trembled when that muscle vibrated beneath her ministrations. Her fingers ran up and down his biceps, over the tattoo she'd seen on a few previous occasions. She turned her attention there, looking at the tribal drawings as they stretched around the unmistakable picture of a large cat. It looked lethal, the cat that is, its mouth opened in an angry growl and she was momentarily mesmerized, a sense of something different lurking in the air.

“Take me, Jewel.” Ezra's voice interrupted her thoughts. His hands had moved to her hair, his fingers raking over her scalp. “Take whatever you want from me.”

His words were rough, guttural, and sexier than anything she'd ever heard before. She wasn't totally certain how to take him, as Larry had always done the taking, the instructing. With a slight shake of her head she tried not to think about that, not to think his name even though Ezra had told her not to say it.

She reached for his belt buckle and then the snap on his pants. When she pushed them down, Ezra kneeled to take off his shoes and socks. Jewel took that moment to back away, pulling her own shirt off and hurriedly disconnecting her bra. Her shoes were slide-ons so they were simple to slide off. Shaking fingers undid the button of her jeans and she pushed them and her panties down quickly, wanting to be finished the same time as Ezra, wanting to get on with this as soon as possible.

That thought made her nervous, it made her entire body tremble and she looked down. Maybe she was looking away from him, or away from herself, or to where she thought she might end up. No, she was doing what she'd always done with Larry, looking down in the hopes that he would change his mind and leave her alone. It never worked.

She raised her head quickly, the decision to be with him in spite of her past already made, squaring her shoulders then stepping toward the bed where Ezra had already laid down. Immediately she straddled him, her hands going to his erection, wrapping around the thick, hot length and sighing at how wonderful it felt.

“That's right, feel me,” he told her. “Feel how much I want you.”

She did, just as she felt her essence dripping from her pussy, felt the need building like a tidal wave inside her. In that instant she wanted to do so many things. She wanted to taste him, to feel all that heat slipping over her tongue. She wanted to lie down on his body, to let all his warmth embrace her. She wanted to kiss him, to suck his tongue deeply into her mouth. And she wanted him inside her, deep enough that he'd touch the part of her she'd hidden for so long. Even though that touch would be brief and temporary, for once in her life she wanted it.

And so she decided. She rose up on her knees, positioning her center over his dick, lowering herself as she continued to hold him, guide him where she wanted him. When his tip touched her opening, she gasped his name. “Ezra,” she whispered once, then again as if she were reminding herself of who she was with.

It was painful, the stretching of him entering her and her pressing down farther, faster onto him. The pain spread throughout her entire body, resting against every part of her in a blissful haze of pleasure. That's what she focused on, the pleasure, the control, pleasure, control. When he was completely inside her, when the damp lips of her pussy touched the soft curls against his groin and his tight sac rubbed against her anus, Jewel sighed once more.

Then she began to move. She lifted her hips, let them sink down, repeated that motion over and over again until her head was hanging back, her mouth open wide as she screamed his name. She'd grabbed her breasts as they'd begun to ache, needed some sort of attention as well. She squeezed them tight, letting her thumbs rub over tight nipples, and continued to bounce up and down on this beautifully configured man, this perfect specimen that had wanted her in return, until she could no longer breathe, could no longer see anything but the cliff she tumbled over and the release that rained down like a torrential storm.