Chapter Twelve
Courage had proved instinctive when the chips were down, but love was hard, Celina realized as she snuggled down in Diego’s bed.
Bad things can happen unexpectedly, whatever Diego said. Life can quickly spiral out of control.
“Leave the past behind you, where it belongs,” he insisted.
“Can you read my mind too?”
“Yeah.”
He remained by the bed. She felt safe while he was there. She didn’t want to be alone. She’d changed out of his sweats and was wearing one of his clean tops. It was like a rather long dress on her. Everything he owned was giant-sized. “Another shower can wait,” he’d told her. “You had one at the airport before you came on board, so just lie back now, close your eyes and picture yourself somewhere you’ve felt safe in the past.”
In his arms?
Everything smelled so fresh and good, as if sunshine had been woven into the fabric. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes. This was all very new to her, this feeling of letting go, of being cared for, and she couldn’t say she didn’t like it.
“Sleep,” Diego insisted as she rested her face against the deep bank of pillows. “I’ll stay with you.”
I’ll close my eyes for five minutes and he’ll be gone, she thought. He must have better things to do. But when she closed her eyes, blackness quickly overwhelmed her, and she welcomed the healing power of sleep.
~~o0o~~
He watched Celina transition from exhaustion into a sleep so deep, she might have been comatose. This was the first time he could remember wishing a flight were longer. She needed her mind to switch off. Seeing worry fade from her face as she drifted away was worth every moment of his time. As much as he wanted her, and he did want her, she needed this more. She touched him in more ways than he could say, and it upset him to see her still wrapped in a defensive huddle even in sleep. Sex had always been a simple transaction in the past, but it was the last thing on his mind now. Friendship with a woman was new to him. He had acquaintances. He had lovers. And then was Celina, who was both.
Her life had been an emotional desert similar to his. He’d never known if his parents would be home when it came to the holidays. They weren’t interested in hearing about bullies and the harshness at school. As a little boy of seven, he couldn’t have articulated this anyway. He’d learned to fend for himself and to say nothing that might upset his parents’ smooth-running life. He was glad that things had been that way. It helped him to understand Celina. Her childhood had been hideous compared to his, nothing short of a master class in survival, so it came as no surprise to him that she felt the urge to devote her life to helping others.
Thinking he was disturbing her as she stirred, he turned to go.
“No! Don’t leave me,” she exclaimed, and reaching out, she clung to his wrist. “Stay with me. Make love to me. Help me to forget.”
“I need to take a shower—”
“No,” she said fiercely. “You need to make love to me.”
Fully awake now, she pinned him with a stare. He smiled inwardly at her courage and determination. This was Celina, he reminded himself, and she was strong. She knew exactly what she wanted, and always had.
It also turned out she was right.
~~o0o~~
Kisses, touches… Diego was the perfect antidote to mental anguish. Her body craved him, and her mind did what it was told on this occasion. It helped that his enthusiasm matched hers. Light the blue touch paper and stand well back, she thought as he stripped off his clothes. Her excitement was at fever pitch by the time he threw back the bedclothes and joined her on the bed. Every nerve ending she had fired repeatedly as she clung to him. She wanted him to cover every part of her with his hot, hard body. She needed to feel his heat. She craved the affirmation that they’d survived and could go on to enjoy a purposeful life. Wrapping his arms around her body, he dragged her close. She loved it when he pressed her against him. She loved his touches. She loved his—
“What?” he asked as she cried out. He frowned. “What did they do to you, Celina?”
“I did it to myself,” she admitted.
“What?” he said tensely. “What did you do?”
She was seeing the face his enemies must see, she realized, and that expression was terrifying. “It’s just a small abrasion.”
“What does that mean?” he rapped, still scowling blackly.
“I’ll show you.” Taking hold of his hand, she guided him to the site of her piercing, which was still a little sore. “This is where I kept the micro-transmitter.”
“What?” He stared at her in amazement, and then he laughed. “I did wonder how you smuggled it past the slavers.”
“So now you know. The gadget’s new to the market, and it fooled them.”
