Prisoner Mine (12 page)

D
rugs had never interested her
, but that intoxicating sense of power could become a real problem. “Amazing.” Greer breathed the word from her tender lips onto her fingers for maybe the fifth time since she’d brought Z to the point of total release. A grin contorted her mouth. She flipped forward. The towel fell from her head, but she caught it and hugged it to her chest. Her thumb rubbed over the dip at her throat where he’d lost himself all over her.

Enough gloating and stalling. It was easy to be brave behind the bathroom door, but how would she feel facing him again? One way to know. She hung the towel on the back of the door, tugged at the hem of her camisole, checked her cotton shorts, and turned the knob.

The clack of keys filled the room. So, he was still awake. Her heartbeat spiked. On the vanity beside the sink sat the hair brush and toiletry kit he’d given her when she’d regained her wits at the farmhouse. Z must have grabbed them before they left. She’d been too emotional to think so logically. Her stupid grin returned. She’d dreaded finger combing her hair and wiping off her teeth with no more than a wash cloth. Time and again, he told her what a bad guy he was, but time and again he showed her kindness. She diverted to the vanity, grabbed the brush, and pulled it through her hair.

Her reflection caught her by surprise. She’d expected to look different, stronger or more mature maybe, but no. Aside from her red lips she looked remarkably ordinary. Stringy blonde strands clung to her cheeks and back. The curve of her nose still flared a bit too much at the sides. A hint of a blemish edged the bottom of her jaw... All things she would’ve complained about before offered comfort. She still fluffed the roots of her hair, brushed her teeth, and examined her chin, but she did so with new appreciation.

Unable to stall any longer, Greer straightened the mess she’d created on the vanity, and then turned. Z’s wide shoulder rested against the headboard of the bed where she’d explored the frontier of her sexuality and him. Fists that had threatened to rip the fabric covering the bed thirty or so minutes ago relaxed into agile tools for seeking information. Light glared from the laptop screen casting his chest in an eerie glow. His head hung and his eyes squinted with single-minded concentration.

The carpet pricked her bare feet. She would have grimaced, but like Z’s inattention, what did it matter? Awkwardness usually reserved for the high school lunch room on the first day at a new school—in a new state or maybe even a new country—nor the overused carpet would make her regret what she’d done. Z hid behind a fortress, but for those few minutes she’d reached beyond it. She’d reached him, and had enjoyed every second of it. Withdrawn or not, bad or not, when he let go there was a lightness that stole her breath—and maybe her heart.

Greer crawled onto her designated bed, yanked back the covers, and crawled inside. Whether they rented by the hour or not, the motel sheets coaxed the trace of embarrassment from her muscles and molded them into putty. She pulled the plush pillow from underneath the scratchy, awful tropical patterned one that matched the coverlet, and wedged it under her chest. Her face met it with a sigh.

Z continued to type, scroll, and then type more. Every breath he drew accentuated the contour of his lower back and muscled bottom. The man had no qualms with his naked form. Neither did she for that matter, except he provided a visual road block to sleep. With him otherwise occupied, she drank him in from the tips of his hairy toes to the top of his head and everywhere in between. Memories distorted the view. His arms strained against the comforter. His abdomen rolling in time with her mouth. His hips pistoning his cock inside her. His scent. His taste.

Blood pumped like roaring waves through her, obliterating her inner ear with the rush and recession of its consistent battering. Her most intimate parts throbbed, making her a near-writhing ball of need.

She clamped her eyes shut against the onslaught of his body. She was at the mercy of her imagination though, as she had been since she’d first seen him strapped into an officer’s uniform, standing proud and imposing, commanding a team of deadly men, and her.

A light touch grazed her hand. She shot upright, ready for battle.

“I’m sorry I startled you.” Z crouched next to her bed.

How had she not heard him? Had she fallen asleep or had she been so deep into her own fantasies she honestly hadn’t heard him?

“Make some noise or something.” She pressed a hand over her flailing heart and drew a heavy breath.

“In my work noise gets a man killed. In yours too,” he reminded with a hitched brow.

“Could you put on some clothes?” His naked forearms rested on the comforter just in front of his bare shoulders and chest.

“I put on pants.”

Greer leaned onto her elbow and peered down. By pants he meant black, muscle-hugging briefs. Her insides bloomed and contracted greedily.

“You said your dad recommended you for the job. What did you mean?”

He obviously hadn’t caught the please-fuck-me face she’d been unable to hide. All for the best. “I was an active marine,” she explained.

“I know.” The corner of his mouth pulled into a lopsided grin. “Would you look at that? We have something in common.”

“There was nothing royal about my posting.” Her gaze dropped to the Royal Marines Commando dagger on his abdomen. “You were elite.”

“Still am.” He winked. “But I want to know about you.”

She ignored the flutter in her belly, but damn, it was hard. He let this flirtatious part of himself show so seldom.

“I started straight from college as a second lieutenant. Four years and three tours later I made captain.” That time in her life had been terrifying and freeing in the same labored breaths. She missed it more than she let herself think about. “My comrades resented me, of course. They were mostly men, who started just before or after me.”

“It’s a fast advancement.”

“Not terribly. They thought I was promoted because my uncle and father were in the senate. When I called to tell my dad, and make certain they didn’t have anything to do with the pace of my rank increase, he cut me off.” She rolled onto her belly and rested her chin in her hands. “He said he was surprised by my rash promotion, and all but hung up on me. It seemed like he resented my advancement more than the men I’d passed over.”

“Why would he begrudge your progress? Other than he’s a total piece of shit, which we’ve already established.”

“He’s not that bad.”

“He’s rat shit. Let’s move on.”

“Military service was a must in my family. My great-grandfathers were starred, two brigadier generals. My grandfather was a major general.”

“No shit?” Z’s shoulders straightened.

“None.” A grin struck her by surprise.

“That’s impressive.”

“They were impressive men.” She nodded.

“Your dad couldn’t hack it?”

“He was sent home two weeks into his first deployment, given an honorable discharge, and to this day I have no idea why. He wasn’t injured. Not that I’ve been able to discern from his medical records.”

“So you’ve been snooping?”

“I had questions he refused to answer.”

“I have plenty of those too.” His thumb grazed the curve of her jaw. “You going to start snooping on me?”

It took a few seconds for her brain to register the question. She chuckled. “Already have. Imagine—there was nothing on you, Mr. Z.”

His hand left her chin. “Your dad cut his foot on a rusted nail in camp, developed tetanus, and was sent home.”

“What?” Greer scrambled to her bottom. “How do you have access to that information?”

“It’s all bullshit,” he said, not answering her question.

Her head cocked.

“It’s a cover-up. Something else happened outside Al-Wafrah. What? We’ll probably never know. The commanding officer who signed off on the report died in a car accident the day he landed in the States.”

An ominous chill rolled over Greer’s neck, creating an outbreak of gooseflesh across her arms and legs. “My dad knows.”

“He’s the only one who would.”

She wrapped her arms around herself and chafed them with her hands. “That’s one hell of a coincidence.”

“So, your father recommended you…”

“He knew a guy with US Elite. He said they were doing groundbreaking work, less red tape, more results. He told me they were really making a difference, helping more people.” A huff erupted from her throat. “My dad scheduled the interview. I got the job.”

“And you didn’t turn it down, even though you wanted to.”

“How’d you know I didn’t want to take it?”

He aimed his steady gaze on her and shifted his knees onto the ground. “When you talked about your rank your face lit up.”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to, but I didn’t want to let my dad down more. I’m a pleaser.”

Z braced his hands on the bed, hung his head and shook it slowly back and forth, as though trying to work it out in his head, but coming up empty.

“I like to see people happy. If I can do something to facilitate that, what’s the harm?”

“There’s no harm…unless you’re the one whose happiness pays the price.”

“It doesn’t.” She turned toward him and pointed toward the door, trying to get him to understand. “The man outside—”

“The homeless guy.” Z’s head jerked up as he spat the word.

“Yes, the homeless guy. If he accepts my help, he’ll find his purpose again and he’ll help my friend out in the process. If it works out, I’ll have changed people’s lives for the better, mine included. My happiness grows with his.”

“He’s not your responsibility.”

Z’s face reddened to the shade of her night-on-the-town lipstick. She’d seen him angry, but never so visibly moved by it. His calm had vanished like a waitress when you’re so hungry you could eat your arm off. She suddenly wondered if they were talking about the man outside or the one kneeling in front of her, but reason didn’t temper her reaction to his disregard.

“Why not? He’s a person. I’m a person.” Anger lifted Greer to her knees. She cleared the gap between them. Her voice rose to meet her indignation. “Just because I have a place to live and he doesn’t, doesn't make me better than him. It just makes our circumstances different. Do you think you’re better than him—name with no name—because you had a fancy car and cash to throw around? I mean, you see how quickly that can all change.”

“I was him,” Z shouted and stood. His hands found his hips. He stood over her now. His chest puffed, but his head hung low. “Only I was a kid.”

Realization rocked Greer onto her heels.

“Nobody gave a fuck about me or my sister. The only thing they were interested in was how to use us to get what they wanted.”

The crack in her heart shattered wide. Greer wanted to pull him into her arms and hold him close. Tears clogged her throat, but she gagged them down. He’d never forgive her pity. She wanted to protect the child he’d been and heal the man he’d become, but she held perfectly still.

“Nobody is going to take care of you in this world, but you. It’s time you learned that shitty fact. I figured you’d have learned it when your dad blamed you for your cousin’s crime when he should have been at the kid’s doorstep beating the life out of him.”

Greer covered her mouth. Her cheek throbbed as though he’d slapped her.

Z drew up. His grousing and huffing died on his open lips. He didn't take the statement back. Why would he when it was true? She should have learned her lesson. But it was high time he learned one too.

“That’s not true. Your sister cared. You cared for her. If no one had cared, you wouldn’t be here today, taking care of me. If no one cares, you be the one who cares, the one who makes a difference.” Greer lifted to her knees again. “You still don't see it?”

“See what?”

“That you are the one who cares? It’s not just me.”

His hands squeezed his knuckles white for an eight count, before he lifted them to his nape and tugged. All the while his gaze roved her face. Quiet war raged inside him like he wanted to curse her and caress her at the same time.

“Say it,” she demanded.

“What?”

“Say you care.”

He stayed stubbornly silent.

Greer stretched her arms wide, daring him to release the thought that caused him so much trouble. “Say something.”

“You sucked me off to put me in a better mood?”

Her mouth fell open. A squeaky amalgam of confusion, protest, and outrage leaked out.

“I refuse to be your charity case.”

“Charity case?” She leaned forward. Her chest bombarded his space. “It would be more than what I am to you. To you, I’m simply the means to an end. But no, let me salve your ego. I went down on you because I wanted to feel you, to experience your taste. I wanted to draw a reaction from you for purely selfish reasons.”

“Selfish?” He stared down at her.

“Yes. I don’t regret it. If you do, I’m truly sorry.” A cursed tear slipped down her cheek. “I didn’t expect it to mean much to you, but it meant something to me.”

Z’s head bent. His lips pressed against hers, silencing her outrage. The hard mouth he’d punished with earlier now forgave with a tender embrace. Hot fingers splayed across her jaw and dipped into the hair at her nape. He cradled her head. His full mouth grazed delicate kisses along her lips. Sun-weathered skin around his eyes crinkled with each caress. That hypnotizing grey gaze never left hers. She’d never kissed with her eyes open. The closeness added a layer of vulnerability. There was no place for either of them to hide.

Her fingers craved the touch of his skin, but she didn’t move. She surrendered. His lips grew more insistent on her mouth, parting her lips. The eager tip of his tongue slipped inside the edge of her mouth. He coaxed her upper lip into his heat. The point of his teeth abraded her already swollen skin. A surge of desire roared low and rolled through her. Z pulled back, panting, but held her fast.

“Fuck me to my grave, Greer, I care about you.” His lips formed a tight, menacing pout.

She stared at him in awe for too many pounding heartbeats. He cared about her. He didn’t sound the least bit happy about it, but he did. “Why is caring so horrible?”