Wild Ways (13 page)

“Pleasuring a woman is a turn-on in itself, yes. And no, I’m not going to sleep with an unresolved hard-on. Nor am I going to slink off like a twelve-year-old. I apologize if it makes you uncomfortable while I resolve the situation.”

He could have gone back to the Inn and probably picked up any one of the women she’d seen eyeing him. But no, he was staying here. Without a speck of shame about getting himself off. That he’d gotten aroused just by pleasuring her coiled through her sated body.

“I could—”

“No way,” he said. “Now you feel like you should return the favor, and then later you’ll think I planned it that way all along. I’m a man of my word. A particularly horny one at the moment. See, it’s been a while for me. I thought the road would be all about picking up wild women, but I haven’t seen one I’d want anywhere near my cock.”

Something inside her shifted, and it scared her. She wanted him to be shallow and deceptive, not honorable. Not honest about his lack of recent sex or open about his arousal and what he was doing about it. She’d caught her ex, Jimmie, jacking off once, in the closed bathroom. He’d gotten defensive and angry, blaming her for his need.

Julian bore neither shame nor resentment. She couldn’t comprehend that he’d truly done it for her alone. She wanted to tell him that she didn’t feel obligated to pleasure him back. It went deeper than that, a desire to give him the gift he’d given her.
To touch him as intimately as he’d touched her.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Those words seemed inadequate.

“It was my pleasure. Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight.”

In that bit of moonlight, she watched him wrap his hand around his erection, his muscles rippling with his movements, his breath coming fast. Her body pulled toward him, and she fought the urge to cross that short space between their beds. The same way it had happened in the river, she was drawn to him.

Her fingers flexed involuntarily, imagining his cock as she stroked him instead. But her throbbing core had other ideas for that rigid length of him, throbbing even more at listening to unrestrained groans of pleasure. The moonlight silvered the ridges of his wet abs as they tightened, and then his whole body seized with his own release. She felt the heat of it running through her body, the way he let out a string of guttural Spanish. And finally his exhalation as he relaxed and caught his breath. His hand spread across his erection, his release shiny in the light.

Several seconds passed, and she could almost feel his breath hot against her neck, imagined herself straddling him, her body flat against his, and her face against his chest. She shivered with it, so clear and visceral, she could almost feel his throbbing cock inside her.

“You watched,” he said, though not accusingly. In fact, he sounded surprised. Amused.

That’s when she realized she was sitting up, facing him. Oh, gawd, could she have been more obvious?

She squashed the urge to apologize. “I’ve never seen a guy get off.” No need to mention Jimmie. “Guess I got caught up in it.”

“See, it’s arousing to watch someone else come.” He pushed off the ground in one swift motion and walked to the river.

“I didn’t say it was arousing. Just interesting.”

He chuckled, insinuating that he didn’t believe her. She heard him splash into the
water. A few minutes later he returned, drying off and flopping down on his roll with a satisfied sigh. It was only then that she realized she was still naked. And a little damp. Too wet to put her pajamas back on. She hugged herself and rubbed her hands down her arms to warm up.

“Cold?” he asked.

“A little chilly. Aren’t you?”

“I’m fine. I wish I had a blanket to offer, but it’s been too warm to bother with one. How about I be your blanket?”

She opened her mouth to say,
Thanks, but no thanks
, and nothing came out. Because the thought of him wrapped around her stole her objections away. The idea that it wouldn’t be a ploy to get sex, only to comfort her, replaced them with a dangerously warm, fuzzy feeling. This man was too good to be true. She needed to remember that.

He shimmied into his briefs and pulled his roll next to hers. “Turn on to your side and face the other way.” His strong arms came around her as the front of his body snuggled up from behind. A small mewling sound escaped her at the pure joy of being held, protected. “You all right?” he asked.

She closed her eyes. “I’m …” So many words crowded into her head.
Grateful. Amazed. So close to falling for you that I want to run screaming into the night
. “Warm now,” she finished lamely. “This feels nice.” She didn’t dare tell him how wonderful it felt.

“Good.” He tightened his hold, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Oh, I should warn you—sometimes I have nightmares. I’m back in Afghanistan, Kabul. If I scream or thrash, get out of my way. If you try to wake me, do it very gently.”

“Good to know.”

“And whatever you do, don’t let me grab my gun or knife.”

She turned toward him on that one. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“I don’t know if I will, I’m just saying …”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“G’night, Mollie.”

“Goodnight,” she whispered. She settled even farther into the cocoon of his body and fell into the best sleep she’d had in years.

The dream didn’t come until early morning. Julian rarely called them nightmares, because these were based on reality. Two bad guys were only shadows in the moonless landscape of downtown Baghdad. Amid the rubble were silhouettes of palm trees against the dark night sky. He raised his HK416, ready to fire. A sound right behind him had him spinning around.

“Julian!”

A woman’s voice. A very American woman’s voice. He felt hands wrapped around his wrists as his eyes snapped open. Not a bad guy hovering above him, trying to push him into the ground. No, the face of a honey-haired angel, that hair hanging above his face like a curtain.

The panic on her face turned to relief. “You curse in your sleep, you know.”

He shook away the last of the dream as he came to a sitting position. “I also shoot people in my sleep.” He checked to make sure he hadn’t grabbed the gun he’d left within reach. Still there, hidden beneath the edge of his bag. “Sorry if I scared you.”

She sat back on her heels, now fully dressed. “I’m glad you warned me. You have PTSD?”

He scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “Probably a touch of it. On top of that, we’re used to grabbing a few hours of sleep here and there. I know SEALs who have been out for decades and still don’t sleep more than three hours at a stretch.”

“But you loved what you did. Do you miss it?”

“Yes on both. You’re dressed.” Not the slickest change of subject, but he wasn’t in the mood to go into why he was no longer active.

“One of the times you woke up and prowled, I dug my clothes out of my bag. It felt funny sleeping naked.”
With you
, she didn’t say, but he knew she was thinking it. Not that he blamed her. Hell, they’d only met the day before.

But oh, do you know her well
.

He remembered coming back and settling in next to her, finding her fully clothed. Missing the feel of her soft skin, the warmth of her body snuggled up against his. But he had liked the way she had let out a sweet little sigh as she nestled closer. He’d liked that a lot.

She was looking at him, her gaze soft. “Thank you for … everything you did last night. For luring me into the water, that other thing, and then keeping me warm all night.” Mollie nervously brushed her hair back and tucked it behind her ear. She glanced away, clearly uncomfortable talking about any of it.

“No need to thank me. I enjoyed it, too.”

A heavy silence settled between them. Somewhere in the distance a lawnmower buzzed and a woman laughed. Those who were at the campground were beginning to wake up. He wanted to act on that silence and what it meant, but it was probably better that they couldn’t. Mollie was spooked enough.

He dug into his duffel bag and pulled out clean clothes for the day. Jeans, a black tank top, and the loose shirt over it to conceal his weapon. After dressing, he grabbed both their bags and his roll as she grabbed her own roll, and they packed everything on the bike.

“Let’s grab breakfast and check in with Chase.”

She nodded eagerly, no doubt in a hurry to find out if he had found her sister’s lover. Mollie easily got on the bike behind him, and they took the scant road back to the Inn. He liked the feel of her back there now, as much as he told himself that he preferred riding solo.

They ordered, and once again Julian had her choose something heartier than Mollie thought she should have.

“You need more than a couple of
pancakes
for a possible long ride.” He looked at the waitress. “She’ll also have two eggs—” He looked at her, arching an eyebrow in question.

“Over medium,” Mollie supplied, the pique clear in her voice.

“And a side of fresh fruit. Double that.” He handed the server both their menus.

Mollie propped her chin on her upturned palm. “I suppose you think this falls under the umbrella of following your orders.”

“Definitely. You need a little meat on your bones, mami.” She was already underweight, no doubt from all the stress. He’d felt the jut of her hip bones and ridges of her ribs as his hands moved over her skin. That observation unleashed a whole bunch of images from the night before. Yeah, he pushed that on her, too. Not that she fought awfully hard. She needed some relief from the tension she lived with.

He’d known he would get aroused, too, had promised himself he would in no way use that sense of obligation she seemed to possess to help him achieve orgasm. But what surprised him was the way holding her through the night had felt. Sure, he’d spent the night with women before. He wasn’t one of those losers who had sex and then went home. All he could think of, with his body wrapped around hers, was
But you’ve never spent the night with Mollie
.

On one of his prowlings, as Mollie referred to them, he had checked his phone. Chase, who obviously also didn’t sleep through the night, had texted in response to his request:
Are you getting too invested?

No doubt. But I need to see this through
.

Just be smart about it. No “white knight in shining armor” stuff
.

Their food arrived, and they both made quick work of clearing their plates.

When she saw him inspecting her plate, she said, “I ate everything already.”

“Good girl.”

She planted her elbow on the table and rested her cheek against her hand. “I’m not used to someone taking care of me. It feels weird. I’m always the one getting people to finish their food, to eat healthier and take care of themselves.”

They had had such different upbringings. He’d been one of a brood with an overbearing, loving mother. Mollie had been a mother to her mom and her sister. And she seemed drawn to men who also needed a mother. “Do you like taking care of people?”

She considered the question. “I don’t think I like it. But I need to, if that makes
any sense.”

“These guys you’ve dated, do they need taking care of, too?”

She let out a long sigh. “I suppose they do. If some guy’s emotionally needy or troubled, I pull him into my orbit like a magnet. I draw the line at dating guys who drink too much or do drugs. But in the end, I’m still propping them up.”

He leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs out in front of them. “Then you must be totally repelled by me.” He grinned. “Because I don’t need a mommy.”

“But you do call me ‘mommy,’ ” she teased.

“M-A-M-I.” He raised one eyebrow. “It has nothing to do with you mothering me. And any time you want to be taken care of, in any way, just say the word.”

She cleared her throat and glanced away, that alabaster skin turning pink. “I will, umm, keep that in mind.” At least she hadn’t turned him down flat. She shifted her attention back when his phone dinged to indicate a new text. “From Chase?”

Julian checked, not wanting her to see their earlier exchange. “Yes, and he’s telling me to check my e-mail.” He opened it up, and Mollie came over to sit next to him, her hip pressing against his.

Atop the list of never-ending jokes and sappy poems his family sent him was the e-mail from Chase. No subject, but it contained a map of a neighborhood in St. Louis. Beneath it:
Possible subject location
, along with an address. Then:
Possible subject name: Mike Nesbitt
.

“Let’s roll,” Julian said, though Mollie was already standing.

They walked outside, but he led her away from the parking lot to one of the picnic tables. No one was out there, so they had the whole fenced-in area to themselves.

Which she noticed. “I, uh, didn’t say the word.”

He shook his head, still grinning. “That’s all you think about, sex, sex, sex.”

She pounded his biceps but pulled back with a hiss and rubbed her knuckles. “Then what are we doing back here?”

Julian pulled out his cell phone. “I want to take a look at the fastest route there.” He scanned the map on his phone. “Rath and I did this run on the Route 66 tour, but
that’s the slow way.”

“While you’re doing that, I’m going to hit the restroom. Be right back.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Need an escort?”

“No,” she called out, shaking her head. He caught sight of her smile just before she disappeared inside. A few minutes later she returned, her expression much more serious. “They have one of those bulletin boards in the back. There are two ‘Missing’ posters.” She went to the bike and dug through the saddlebag where she kept her things. A poster in her hand, she went back inside. He followed. Mollie pinned up Di’s poster, then stepped back. “They’re all young women. Runaways. From different parts of the country.”

“Yeah, same thing happened last year,” Gracie Kay said as she came up behind them with a bag of garbage. “By midsummer we had four or five posters hanging there. After a while we took them down. Don’t know if they were ever found.”

Di’s was the only poster stating that she’d been with the Kings of Chaos. Still, it bothered Julian. He took pictures of the other posters and sent them to Chase.