“No.” She sounded thoughtful. “It’s actually rather… refreshing.”
“Good to know.”
He hadn’t actually been quite as blunt as he could’ve been. If he were being completely honest, he wanted to toss her down on the leaf-strewn ground and explore her naked body with his mouth. His hands yearned to touch her soft skin and his cock desperately wanted to sink into her hot, wet heat. To find relief, pleasure… an absolution that would never come.
Fuck, it had been too long since he’d had sex.
Giving his head a shake, trying to clear his tangled thoughts, he gritted his teeth and kept walking forward. But Essie was an incredibly beautiful woman, and with her legs wrapped around his waist and her breasts crushed against his back, she was hard to ignore. His hands tightened around her thighs and his neglected cock pressed against his zipper.
Xander felt no shame in the fact he enjoyed a good, no-strings fuck, but he hadn’t indulged since before his sister’s murder. Maybe it was his version of self-flagellation. Punishment for failing her so spectacularly. Or maybe his lack of interest had more to do with the women he’d met. Either way, he’d gone off-grid and been celibate for the last three years, completely focused on finding and killing Barrera.
Obsessed with his target, sex and every other joy in his life took a backseat. Why should he be allowed to do anything that gave him even a modicum of happiness when his baby sister had suffered and died because of him? He didn’t deserve anything good.
He deserved shit.
And now here he was, on the run with a gorgeous woman who made him feel things he was doing his best to tamp down and ignore. He had a goal to achieve, and he didn’t need a pretty, cinnamon-scented distraction.
Ignore her,a little voice advised.Remember the big picture. The reason for everything you’re doing.
Yeah, he could do that. If only his cock would get on the same page.Unruly bastard.He was rebelling for lost fucks.
Focusing on the rugged path ahead, he decided to stop interacting so much with Essie. Keeping her at a mental and emotional arm’s length from that point forward would be the wisest decision. They didn’t need to talk or laugh or joke. He didn’t care who she was or what she wanted. In a day or two,they’d go their separate ways, and he’d never see her again.Adiós, señorita.
Xander trudged forward as Essie asked questions about random things, most likely to help pass the time. He’d grunt a non-answer and continue to walk. And walk. Until his thighs burned and his gritty eyes began to blur. Eventually, Essie gave up trying to involve him in any sort of conversation. She pressed her cheek against the back of his shoulder and rested. Fine by him. Any attraction he felt toward her was a distraction he didn’t need. Best to nip it in the bud.
With every mile, he grew more and more grumpy. And as he often did when he found himself in a shitty situation, he began examining his life choices. In the last few years, the only good thing to happen to him was meeting the Motley Crew. Originally, he’d joined up with the former military men for his own selfish reasons. He’d wanted access to their intel, courtesy of General Mitchell Evans, to help him achieve his own goals.
But at some point, Brand, Wes, Chaz, Corey, Jayson and Lex had become his friends. The only friends he had. They’d accepted his moody, broody, slightly pissy ass for exactly the way he was, and he appreciated that. Good allies were hard to find in this world. Good friends? Even harder.
And then he’d run off in the middle of an op, leaving them hanging. What kind of friend did that make him? An absolute shitty one. If he didn’t already hate himself enough, he would’ve despised himself more.
If you googled King of Bad Decisions, he’d bet a million bucks his picture would pop up. Given two options, he always chose the wrong one. Why?
Because you’re a selfish prick.No mystery there.
Stifling a sigh, he swiped a hand across his perspiring forehead. God, he must smell ripe. Although he’d washed off every day while locked up, he hadn’t had a proper shower inages. He fucking missed soap. And deodorant. And toothpaste. Poor Essie. She was probably working hard not to breathe through her nose so she didn’t have to deal with his stink.
The idea of stepping beneath a hot shower spray sounded almost as good as fucking Essie.Almost.And there went his wandering brain again. Because as much as he tried to put her out of his mind, he knew damn well that if she lay down right in front of him and spread her lovely legs, he wouldn’t have the strength to say no.
Fuck.The sun was fully up now, finding gaps in the tree canopy above, and the jungle was getting steamy fast. Essie probably weighed no more than a buck fifteen, but between the heat, exhaustion, and the destruction to his body thanks to over a month in captivity, he was beyond the typical hot and tired of a “normal” op. With each step, he felt delirium nipping at his heels. Maybe he was dehydrated. Or maybe this was just what happened when you were forty-two.
When his vision swam, he paused. He didn’t want to wipe out with her on his back. He still didn’t know who she was or what she was running from, but being vulnerable didn’t help either of their causes. Or their chances of ultimately escaping the perils of the dangers around and behind them.
Sucking in several deep breaths, he looked around for a place to rest. No place was safe, though. Too many threats.Fucking jungle.
Behind him, Essie straightened up. “Put me down. You need to rest.”
He loosened his hold on her thighs, letting her slide down. A wave of dizziness washed over him as his knees buckled and he plopped down right in the middle of the path. Shoving a hand through his hair—every strand felt hot—he let his head fall back. Sweat rolled off him, dropping in beads.
“Drink this.” Essie cracked open a bottle of water and shoved it into his hands.
After swigging down the entire thing, he felt much better.Whew.He hated feeling out of sorts. And dehydration was definitely good at causing all kinds of issues.
Essie bent forward and pressed a cool hand to his forehead. Checking his temperature? He wasn’t sick. He stared into her deep, dark brown eyes. The sunlight hit them just right, and he noticed several golden threads woven through her irises.So damn pretty.
She pursed her equally pretty lips. “You were dehydrated. We should’ve stopped a long time ago.” Her chastising tone also held a note of concern.
“I’m okay now.” His gaze dipped to her ankle. “How’s your ankle?”
