Cold Day in Hell (8 page)

“That’s the plan, sweetheart.” He nuzzled then licked the tendon on her neck. She arched her head back onto his shoulder to give him better access. He took the opportunity to lightly teeth the area. She gasped and moaned. Proving once again, her neck was a hot spot for her.

Risto carried her farther into the spa-like bathroom. Getting back into her role, she spoke in a normal tone of voice. “Put me down, you maniac. You promised to feed me.

I’ll start the shower while you get naked.”

Her words may have sounded nonchalant, but her thoughts were anything but. All she could think about was Risto, soon-to-be-naked, his body close, surrounding her in the shower. The thought of going to bed with him had her practically panting. Her only fear?

She wouldn’t be woman enough for him.

Shoving her concern to the back of her mind, she turned on both showerheads and all the body jets. Efficient water heating had the glass walls of the huge bathing area steamy within less than a minute. Fuck the cameras, the watchers would only see silhouettes through the steam. She stripped off her thong and tossed it toward Risto, a very naked and aroused Risto. She almost swallowed her tongue.
God, he’s built!

He was all muscle, the kind nature built through hard work and not as a result of a gym and a personal trainer. A light smattering of dark hair in the middle of his chest extended from nipple to nipple then down to the bottom of his sternum. No manscaping.

Callie’s newly awakened inner vixen approved. Her appreciative gaze continued over his hairless, superbly-cut abs down to the strip of dark hair starting below his navel and leading to his…
Oh. My. God!
Risto had one of the largest cocks she’d ever seen—and as a model she’d seen a lot of men’s sexual organs, clothed and unclothed, but none trumped Risto’s for length and breadth. Her perusal continued downward over strong thighs and calves to … hell, he even had sexy legs and feet.

Risto bent over to pick up her discarded underwear. He eyed the minuscule ivory silk and lace thong appreciatively. Taking it to his nose, he inhaled. He closed his eyes and groaned. She was one hundred percent sure he wasn’t acting for the camera’s benefit.

“You smell so fucking good. You’re ready for me, aren’t you, baby?” She said simply, “Yes,” then turned to enter the shower. He was right behind her. His hands on her hips, he gently pulled her back against his torso. He caressed the bruises on the side of her hips and thighs with a light touch. Even with his rampant arousal nudging her bottom, he was taking care not to hurt her.

Risto kissed her shoulder and murmured, “I would kill Cruz for marking you alone.” She shivered and he pulled her even more closely against his body, warming her better than the hot water. He placed sucking kisses along her shoulder to her neck.

Pushing her hair out of the way, he ran his tongue up the side of her throat, then gently traced the whorls of her ear. “Play or fuck? Your choice, Callie. How hungry are you—

and for what? The assholes can’t see you. My body is blocking the only camera in this room.”

“Gawd, Risto. I want…” She gulped then hissed as he lightly bit her earlobe, then moaned as he soothed it with his lips. Yeah, she definitely had an erotic hard-wire from her neck and ears to her pussy. Her clit throbbed in synch as he tongued her ear. She leaned heavily against his strength as the world swirled and her knees gave way. He caught her before she fell to the tile floor, holding her up by the waist.

“Fuck me for being an ass. I keep forgetting you haven’t eaten a real meal. Plus, you’re probably dehydrated from being in the sun all day.” He punctuated his words with biting kisses along her jaw. Cupping a breast as his other arm supported her, he cuddled it, his thumb brushing her puckered nipple.

She moaned. “Risto…”

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist. I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you.” He moved the hand tormenting her breast down to her waist. “Let’s get you clean, then I’ll feed you.

You’ll need all the strength you can muster for later.”

She noted he left open exactly what she’d need the energy for. Running? Or, sex?

“I’m fine. Just a wave of dizziness.” She took several deep breaths. Her body was ready to combust from his touch. If she didn’t move away, all his chivalrous self-restraint would go for naught, because she’d turn and attack him—then she’d never get her lunch.

She wriggled against his hold. He immediately released her. She twisted around to speak to him and all her good intentions went down the drain. His eyes blazed with lust—

for her. God, she’d never been so aroused by a man in her life—not even for the guy who’d taken her virginity. She plastered her wet front against his, her breasts mashed against the hair on his chest. She rubbed, loving the feel of his chest hair against her peaked nipples. Throwing her arms around his neck, she fingered the wet hair curling at his nape. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

He opened his mouth to speak, to breathe … who in the hell cared why he opened it?

She seized the opportunity and kissed him, an all-out French kiss, deep and hot. He responded by pulling her into his erection, rotating his hips so his hard-on ground against her lower body. Her pussy clenched in response. Everything primal in her wanted completion. She curled one leg around his, then ran the arch of her foot up and down his hairy calf. The move opened her sex to him.

Risto took advantage immediately and snaked his hand between their bodies, nudging one finger into her wet slit, his thumb pressing the aching bundle of nerves at its top. She whimpered low in her throat, arched into his touch, then humped his hand as if she were an animal in heat. He added a second finger to the first. The pressure was a mixture of pain and pleasure and unlike anything she’d ever felt.

“Green light or red, Callie?” He began to pull his fingers out.

“No!” She moaned.
Why is he making me think?
She clenched his two fingers with her vaginal muscles and sobbed. “Please?”
Please take the decision out of my hands.

“Fuck, baby, I’m a millisecond away from shoving you up against the tile wall and taking you hard and fast. Yes or no?”

Her heart pounded. Her breathing was rapid and choppy. She was so close to coming. But his question had her rational brain taking over, examining all the options.

Did she want this?
Hell, yes.
But did she want her first time with Risto to be in a shower?

With cameras taping every shadowy move, recording every moan, every cry?
Fuck, no.

But what if she never got the chance to have him?
God, no, I can’t let that happen.
She might have gone around in circles forever, if her growling stomach and another wave of light-headedness hadn’t made the decision for her.

“Red light. Sorry. Red. I’m so sor—” She allowed her leg to slip down his calf until it finally touched the shower’s tile floor.

Risto’s eyes glittered, the muscles in his jaw tightened. He removed his fingers from her pussy—slowly, their rough tips abrading every inflamed nerve over which they passed. She sagged as shallow spasms swept through her, a tantalizing taste of the climax she’d just missed.

Risto swore and grabbed her waist to hold her up. He held her body slightly away from his. She braced her forehead on his glistening pecs and glanced down and spied the purple head of his massive erection leaking precum. He had promised to allow her to make the choice—and abiding by his vow was costing him a lot of pain. His chivalry, his control of his desire made her want him all the more.

She looked up to apologize once more.

“Hush.” Risto shook his head, his lips twisted into a smile full of self-recrimination.

“I’m such a dog.”

No!
She shook her head and opened her mouth to deny that any of this was his fault, when he stopped her again. “Shh.” He placed his fingers over her lips. “You’re hungry.

Stressed out. Tired.”

He moved closer, hugging her to him until she was plastered against every throbbing inch of him. “Later.” He rubbed his bristly cheek over her hair. “Conn’s house will be safe. You’ll be able to relax. You can make the decision without so much pressure.” He was protecting her yet again. She stroked his neck, soothing the tension she found there. He wanted her, but would deny himself. But it was unnecessary. “What if I give you the green light … later?”

Risto inhaled sharply and his hands tightened briefly on her waist. His mouth moved over her cheek to her ear. “I’ll fuck you, Callie … I’m not like your other men. I’m not nice or sweet when I fuck a woman. I’ll demand—and you’ll give me everything.”

“Good.” She rubbed her cheek across his chest from one male nipple to the next. She turned her face slightly to place a butterfly-soft kiss on the bud lying under her lips. He groaned and she felt the rumbling in his chest. “I’m a woman, not a girl. And tonight, I want to be
your
woman,” she angled her head and stared him in the eyes, “in every way possible. Yours.”

“My woman.” He nodded, his eyes filled with hints of dark fire. “All night. Mine.”
Chapter Five

The
Jalapeño Rojo
was a little hole-in-the-wall dive bar near the edge of the old city.

While on assignments for SSI, Risto had eaten there before. Trey Maddox, Ren’s brother and co-owner of SSI, had introduced him to the place. It was clean, the food was excellent, and the owner, Tom Yates, was a former marine with dual US and Colombian citizenship who’d assisted SSI in the past.
Semper Fi. Semper Fraternis.

The hostess, Tom’s Colombian-born wife Rosa, recognized Risto from his previous visits and sat them at the gun-slinger’s table, a booth surrounded on three sides by thick walls with the front facing the main door to the bar.

Risto guided Callie with a hand on the small of her back as they passed through the room to their table. No one stood out as a danger, though he nodded casually at another former marine who, he knew, was now a National Clandestine Service operative. You couldn’t throw a knife anywhere in the major Colombian cities without hitting US

military or intelligence operatives. The country was a hot spot ready to blow with just the right spark.

Risto smiled. “
Gracias
, Rosa.”

“
De nada
, Risto.” Rosa smiled. “We are always happy to see you.” He helped Callie slide into the booth, taking her tote bag from her and placing it under the table with his, then he slid in next to her. She was extremely pale under her light tan. Her gray eyes were clouded with fatigue and an over-abundance of stress.

Despite that, she still looked as sexy as hell, wearing skin-tight, well-washed jeans and a navy blue, form-fitting tank top with no bra; a gauzy, pale blue, long-sleeved shirt was tied around her waist in case the rain brought cooler temps later. Without prompting, she’d left all her sandals back at the room and wore practical ankle boots just in case they had to trek into the jungle.

The longer he was around her, the more he admired her. Of course, his little brain just fucking wanted her. Something primitive in him needed to mark her so that any man seeing her would know she belonged to him. He shook his head ruefully. Thank God the Marines had trained him to use his larger brain at all times and that organ counseled patience and restraint. But it was damn difficult. Something about Callie touched him in ways he wasn’t familiar with.

“What do you want to drink, sweetheart?” He picked up her left hand. It trembled slightly. Hunger? Fatigue? Fear? Or, most likely all of the above. He closed his hand around hers and brought it to his lips, kissing the ring she’d dug out of her purse and put on her finger before leaving their suite of rooms. It had been her mother’s wedding band, she told him, and she never traveled without it.

He leaned over and brushed a kiss over her ear. “Guy across the way—end of the bar?” She casually glanced in the direction he indicated and nodded. “He’s a good guy, former marine, as is the bar owner. If Cruz follows us here and shit happens, run to them.

Tell them who you are and ask for protection. Got it?” Her eyes narrowed. Anger colored her cheeks as she shook her head rapidly. He touched his forehead to hers. “Got it?” She stared at him for several seconds then nodded, her expression still rebellious.

“Good.” He kissed the tip of her nose then looked up at the patiently waiting Rosa.

“Sorry for the wait, Rosa.” He looked at Callie. “What do you want to drink, sweetheart?”

“Um, the house Sangria. Lots of fruit and ice. I’m not much of a drinker.” She shot the hostess a radiant smile, but her trembling body told him she was still upset by his instructions. Bless her, she still managed to put on a show.

He placed an arm around Callie’s shoulders and idly stroked the exposed skin. She was soft and smelled so sweet and feminine. It was hard to imagine her trekking the wilds of Colombia. He would do all he could to avoid that happenstance.

“I’ll take an
Iguana Roja, por favor,
Rosa.” It was the local microbrew on tap. He’d had it before and it was good, refreshing. The day had turned even more humid, more miserable. It would rain before nightfall. September was still the rainy season. The forecast predicted an all-day rain for tomorrow. The good news was the rain would make it harder for Cruz to track them. The bad news was the roads would be treacherous, making their travel more complicated than the norm—and the norm in Colombia was pretty darn fucked up to begin with.

Rosa placed menus in front of them. “I’ll get your drinks. The special is fish tacos with fried plantains, rice and beans. I’ll be your waitress this evening, also.” She winked.