She looks at me, her eyes blue flames. “They will, Walker. I know you don’t believe in them, but I do. When they see the truth of this, we win.”
And all my doubts are consumed by those blue flames. Maybe she’s right that people will believe. If she can make me believe, she can convince anyone.
“Static, you need to find a large news source.The Times,preferably. But we’re going to need to meet in person and provide the evidence to them. You gotta get us back.”
“You got it. But the border is a pissed-off hornet’s nest right now. Ms. Graves seems to be using official channels again to find you two. But I’m sure she hasn’t given up on unofficial ones…”
He means the cartel. And Logan. “I’ve got my eyesopen. What should we do?”
"Just lie low. I'll send information as soon as I have it. Stay safe."
The call ends.
I get up and walk to the window. We have a plan, but I’m still frustrated. Sitting here waiting feels wrong. We should be moving, planning, fighting. But we're trapped in this little fishing village until Static gives us the all clear.
Naomi wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me close. Outside, the ocean laps against the shore, the rhythm steady and ancient.
As if reading my thoughts, she whispers, "There are worse places to be stuck.”
“And far worse people to be stuck with,” I say just before my lips touch hers.
I pour everything into the kiss that I can’t find the words for: my fear for her, my admiration, my promise to protect her no matter what it costs me. Because she’s right. The truth is, I’m not stuck. There’s nowhere else I want to be than with her.
Twenty-Six
Iwake with a jolt, my heart hammering against my ribs. The nightmare still clings to me, like the cold sweat that slicks my skin. But this wasn’t the dream that normally poisons my sleep. There were still blood, bones, and dust. There was still Logan’s sick, joyful laughter. But the blood was Naomi’s. The dust wasn’t Middle Eastern but Mexican. I turn to her desperately, finding her sleeping peacefully in just her panties, given the heat. We were able to buy clothes a few towns over, along with a few other necessities. It’s been a few days since Static contacted us, and we’ve tried to make ourselves comfortable.
And Naomi has been right about the wait.
It hasn’t been frustrating. It’s been heaven.
I roll over, watching Naomi's chest rise and fall with each breath. Her dark hair fans across the pillow, though now we’ve been on the run long enough that her blond roots are starting to show. In the soft morning light filtering through our shabby curtains, she looks ethereal. These past few days have been stolen time—watching sunrises paint the sky in watercolor hues, sunsets that paint in deep oranges andpurple, swimming in the cool embrace of the ocean, cooking together in our tiny kitchen.
I should feel guiltier than I do. We're not on vacation. But I can't bring myself to regret a single second.
Every smile she gives me, every touch, every kiss—I drink it all in like a man who will soon be exiled from paradise.
My gaze travels down to her chest that rises and falls with her breathing. Her bare nipples make my mouth water, and I can see the rim on each bud surrounded in salty sweat like a tequila shot.
I kiss her neck, not trying to wake her but completely unable to stop myself. She moans a little. I kiss her collarbone, a place I’ve learned is one of her favorites. She moans more. I work my way down. Each kiss elicits a different note. The top of her breast. Her left nipple. Her right. I trail down her stomach. I play her like an instrument because over these past few days, I’ve learned her music. I studied her body like a map. But unlike in war, in love, knowing the terrain like the back of your hand still won’t protect you.
You’re always at risk of falling.
And I have fallen. And it is love. I’ve only known her for a short time. A silly, stupid, insignificant amount of time. And what do I know about love?
Only that I’m in it with her.
I slowly remove her panties. More moaning from her in a different key. Expectant. Hopeful. Half awake but still half in a dream.
Her pussy glistens in the low light. She’s already wet from my lips traveling down her body. I kiss her pussy gently. And then I lick. Her hands grip the bedsheets, and she arches her back. She seems awake now. Needy.
So I’m not going to go easy on her. I begin lapping and sucking her clit. Slow at first, then gaining speed. “Walker,” she rasps out, a pleading sound but gilded with pleasure.
The sound makes my already hard dick even harder and encourages me to push her further to the edge. I fuck her with my tongue now. Hard, insistent, her hands move from the bedsheets to my hair, pulling and twisting as she comes undone. She cries out, and her body shudders. I look up and see her biting her bottom lip. She looks down at me with a serene, spent smile on her face.
“I need you inside me,” she whispers. I may not have been raised properly, but I know it’s not polite to keep a lady waiting. I quickly pull my briefs down and release my throbbing dick. I slip inside her. Big as I am and as deliciously tight as she is, I slide in easily because of how wet I’ve made her.
I thrust into her harder, faster, pushing myself to the hilt every time. Naomi cries out, spreading her legs wider for me as I fall forward and kiss her neck. One hand snakes around her body to pull her to me, and the other paws her breasts roughly.
