Breaking Point (29 page)

Her breath stopped, her entire body tensing, anticipation making her shiver.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do this.” He lowered his mouth to her and groaned, his clever tongue finding her clitoris, his lips drawing the entire bud into his mouth.

And Natalie was lost.

She gave herself over to him, pleasure coiling deep in her belly as he licked her, nipped her, sucked her labia into his mouth, his fingers working magic inside her. She’d already been on the brink, this new onslaught of sensation pushing her right back to that golden edge. It was sweet, so sweet, hanging on the brink like this, nothing in her world but him and what he made her feel.

Little moans rolled from her throat with each exhalation, her fingers now clenched in his damp hair, her knees drawn back, the need to open herself for him, to give herself to him, instinctual. It felt so good, so incredibly good, pleasure twisting itself tighter and tighter inside her, a tense, shimmering knot. And then it broke.

She cried out, orgasm singing through her, sweet silver notes of bliss carrying her skyward, then leaving her to float in honeyed stillness.

Zach inhaled her musky scent, let it fill his head, her taste on his lips and tongue. He tried to memorize both, wanting to remember, wanting to carry something of her with him. He’d told himself that once life got back to normal and he was back at EPIC working the line again, his crazy need for her would fade and he would stop wanting her. But that was a damned lie. What he felt for her, it was . . .

He stopped himself, unable to go there. He was with her, and that was enough.

Natalie.

She was still now, her breathing deep and even, her face relaxed. Then, as if she knew he was watching, she opened her eyes and reached for him.

He stood, shucked his jeans and boxer briefs, and went to her, drawing her into the center of the bed. He settled himself between her thighs, brushed his lips over hers. “I didn’t plan this. I don’t have a condom with me.”

“The last one broke anyway.” She reached down, took his cock in her hand, and guided him to her.

His gaze locked with hers, he nudged himself into her, the shock of being inside her surging upward from his balls to his brain, making his mind go blank. She was hot and slick from her own orgasm, her muscles gripping him like a fist. He gave her a second to get used to him—or he tried to. But instinct was driving him to thrust, to pound himself into her, to go as hard and deep as he could.

Make it last, McBride.

He willed his body to relax, tried to sink into an easy rhythm, but she felt so good, her hips rising to meet his, her body arching upward, her throaty moans urging him on. Her hands slid up his biceps and over his shoulders, exploring his muscles, kneading them, testing them. Then she murmured his name and wrapped her arms around him, drawing his full weight down against her.

Natalie, sweet Natalie.

Skin against soft skin. A clash of lips and tongues. Hands seeking and caressing. She was everything he wanted. She was everything he couldn’t have. But tonight . . . Right now . . . Here in this room, she was his.

God, she felt good. He’d stay like this forever if he could. Hell, yeah, he would. He’d stay right here inside this room, inside her, until her friends knocked down the door and shot him, until he starved to death, until hell froze over and melted again. But his male physiology wouldn’t cooperate, his balls drawing tight, the first crest of an orgasm drawing near.

He shifted his position, riding her high, grinding against her with his pelvic bone and the root of his cock, trying to slow himself down, wanting to draw it out for both of them. He felt her tense, her breath coming in shudders, the tension building inside her, her nails digging into his skin. He kept the rhythm steady, refusing to rush her, giving her all the time she needed.

Her eyes went wide for a second. “Oh!”

Then she squeezed them shut, her head going back on a cry, her inner muscles contracting around him, delight shining on her beautiful face. And then . . .

Tears?

They slid from the corners of her eyes, down her temples.

But he was too far gone now.

Shifting positions, he drove himself into her fast and deep and hard, his hips a piston. He couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t think, could only feel, her hands on his skin, her lips on his throat, her vagina gripping him, stroking him, sending him over the edge.

And then he could hold out no more. “Oh, angel, you’re so . . .”

At the last second, he withdrew, but rather than coming into the cold and empty air, he felt her hand close around him. He groaned, the force of his release shaking him apart as he thrust into her fist once, twice, three times, spilling himself on her belly.

His head dropped to rest between her breasts as he caught his breath, her fingers sliding lazily through his hair. Then, contented down to his very soul, he kissed her tears away.

CHAPTER 21

THEY MADE LOVE twice more—again on the bed and then in the shower. Natalie wanted the night to last forever, but soon it was four in the morning and then six, time unstoppable, minutes slipping away, the sun already up.

She snuggled against his chest, running her fingers through his chest hair, savoring the scent and feel of him, knowing that the magic spell that had bound them together all night would soon be broken and that he would rise, dress, kiss her—and then walk out of her life.

How strange it was that a week ago she hadn’t even known this man. She’d been a ghost then, drifting, hollow, numb. Then Zach had spoken to her out of the darkness, saving her, making her
feel
again, bringing her back to life. And now he was going to leave her world as abruptly as he’d entered it. What she didn’t understand was
why
.

It had made sense when he’d been Zach Black the criminal. He’d told her that his life wasn’t the kind a man shared with a woman. She’d taken that to mean that he was mixed up in bad things, dangerous things that could get him and those close to him hurt. And perhaps that is what he’d meant. Except that he was on the
right
side of the law.

He stroked her shoulder lazily with his thumb. “What are you thinking? There’s a frown on your pretty face.”

She wasn’t sure she wanted to tell him, afraid her words would spoil whatever was left of their time together. “I was thinking how much I’m going to miss you.”

He kissed her hair and for a while said nothing.

Then at last he spoke. “Five days ago, I was ready to die. I was down to my last twenty-four hours, and I was ready to die. There was so much at stake—the whole operation. If the Zetas had known who and what I was . . . I was so afraid my mind would break before my body gave out. And then you were there, and everything changed. These past few days with you have been . . . There’s no woman on earth like you, Natalie.”

His words gave her hope.

She decided to risk it. “Back when I thought you were a criminal, I understood why we couldn’t be together. But now that I know the truth . . . If we’re both going to miss each other, why can’t we keep seeing each other?”

He turned onto his side to face her, his gaze level with hers, one hand cupping her cheek. “It’s not because I don’t care about you, Natalie. It just wouldn’t work. It wouldn’t be fair to you. You deserve to have a man who can truly be a part of your life, someone who comes home for dinner every night, who has time to play with the kids, who can grow old with you. I’m not that man.”

She could see in his eyes that he believed what he said. “Being a deputy U.S. marshal doesn’t mean you don’t get to have a life.”

That did it.

He turned away from her, sat up, put his feet on the carpeted floor. “This
is
my life, Natalie. I spend most of my days south of the line. I’m rarely home. When I am, it’s just to sleep, shower, refuel, and reload.”

She slid her hand up his back and sat up, draping her arm over his shoulder to caress his chest, her chin perched on his shoulder. “Lots of women have husbands who work long hours. Women whose men are in the military go months—”

“It’s not just that I’m gone all the time.” He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself. “Another DUSM, a guy who’d worked the line for a dozen years, disappeared a couple years ago. Somehow his cover was blown. Do you know what the cartels did to him? They butchered him and left his face—just his face—in a goddamned pizza box on his family’s front porch. His six-year-old son found it.”

“Oh, God!” Natalie felt her empty stomach drop.

Zach turned to face her, his gaze hard, his jaw tight. “I know what happens to women and kids when their husbands and fathers are killed in action or go MIA. I won’t do that to any woman, most especially not one who matters to me.”

“Well, if your job is so damned dangerous, why don’t you do something else?”

He laughed, shook his head. “Leave it to you to ask the tough questions.”

Then he stood, still naked, and began searching for his clothes. “I tried being a regular civilian. I tried for nine long months. It didn’t work.”

“
Tried
being a civilian? What does that mean?”

Zach looked over at Natalie, wondering how they’d gotten onto this topic in the first place. He so did
not
want to go here.

“Some men come home from combat.” He slid into his boxer briefs, adjusted himself, then reached for his pants.

“I . . . I can’t.”

That’s really all there was to it.

“I don’t understand.”

Of course, she didn’t.

He zipped his fly, looked up to see her shimmying into her nightgown, paradise vanishing behind a film of silk.

You must be out of your fucking mind to walk away from her, McBride.

Maybe. But it would be worse for her if he stayed.

“There’s something inside of me—it just doesn’t work. I went away to war, but I can’t seem to come back. I do all right out there where the adrenaline is high and the rules of engagement are clear—shoot to kill. But in the civilian world . . . You know what I spent those nine months doing? Drinking scotch and trying to get up the guts to eat my gun.”

“Oh, Zach. I’m so sorry.”

He couldn’t meet her gaze, a tight feeling in his chest. He’d never talked to anyone about this outside of the VA, and it made him feel like a fucking weak loser to admit it to her. But after what she’d done for him, she deserved the truth.

“If I left the service and we started dating, you’d look at me one day and wonder who in the hell I was, this pathetic
loser
who spends his days drunk and his nights in a cold sweat. Staying in the fight is the only way I know how to keep it together.”

She crossed the distance between them and pressed her hand to his bare chest, her voice soft. “That’s PTSD. I had to deal with it after the storm. But they can treat—”

He drew back, slipped his shirt over his head. “Yeah, they can treat it—with therapy where I talk to someone who really doesn’t give a damn about what a weak piece of shit I am—”

“You are
not
a weak piece of shit. Don’t even say—”

“—or with pills that dull my mind and leave my dick limp. But that’s not curing it. I was a SEAL, for God’s sake. I’m supposed to be one of the strong ones, not a guy who falls the fuck apart. At least this way, I do the world some good. I was there when you needed me, wasn’t I?”

“Yes, you were.” She stood there, all silk, sad eyes, and tousled hair, her arms hugged around herself. “After I saved your butt.”

Caught off guard by her smart mouth, he chuckled. Then he drew a deep breath, not wanting this to end with anger, his insides in knots because of what he’d revealed to her—and because he didn’t want to leave.

He reached for the complimentary pad of paper and pen that sat by the phone in every hotel room, and wrote down his contact info at EPIC and in Washington, D.C. He handed it to her. “Here’s how you can reach me. If I’ve gotten you pregnant, I want to know. I’ll support whatever you decide to do. You won’t lack for money.”

She looked up at him, her chin lifting. “I have money. My parents were wealthy, and I was their only child. If money is your only concern, then don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t like the way that sounded. “Whether you need my help or not, I have a right to know, Natalie.”

Her gaze dropped to the floor. “If it turns out I’m pregnant, I will let you know.”

And now it was time to say what he hadn’t been able to say last night. Somehow the intervening hours hadn’t made it any easier. He should never have let things cross the sexual line. It only made it harder for both of them.

He reached out, ran a knuckle over her cheek. “I’m sorry. I don’t want hurt you. I never wanted that. These past few days with you . . . They meant something to me. You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. I won’t forget you, Natalie.”

She reached up, caught his hand, pressed it to her lips, then looked at him through eyes that shimmered. “I won’t forget you either.”

Regret cut razor-sharp into his chest at the sight of her distress. She was struggling with this as much as he was. For a moment, they stood in silence, fingers entwined.

“I’m going to find Cárdenas, and I’m going to bring him and his Zetas down. I promise you that.” He probably shouldn’t have told her that—mission secrecy and all.

She shook her head. “Promise me instead that you won’t get hurt or killed.”

He couldn’t promise that, so he said nothing. “Good-bye, angel.”

“Good-bye, Zach Black.” Her voice quavered, her lips curving in a tremulous smile. “Watch your back. I might not be there next time to save you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He gave her hand one last squeeze, then turned and walked away, her fingers releasing his one at a time, until his hand was empty.

 

THE TRIP BACK to Denver took a lot less time than Natalie had imagined. She packed her belongings in Kat’s luggage, since hers had been in her hotel room in Juárez when she’d been taken. Then Agent Chiago drove her and her friends to the small Sells airport, where she thanked him with a kiss on his cheek.