“Only if they’re hungry.” He snorted. “I take it you don’t surf?”
“Hell no.”
“I’ve heard you’re more likely to be hit by an asteroid than be bitten by a shark.” She batted her lashes and repeated his earlier words, “That has to make you feel a little better.”
He didn’t miss a beat, echoing her response right back. “It doesn’t, but thanks for trying.”
They shared a smile.
“Just stay out of the water and you’ll be fine,” she stated.
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” He gave his head a shake. “Okay, my turn. I confess—” His voice lowered, all teasing gone.Turning sensual. “That not only do you smell like cinnamon, you taste like it, too.”
Her lips parted. “That’s not really a confession.”
“I wasn’t finished. I confess kissing you is my new favorite thing.”
“Ohhh,” she breathed, and began fanning herself again.
His mouth edged up. “Are you warm?”
“It’s a million degrees out and one hundred percent humidity, and this car has no air condi—” He scooped her hand up, dragged it over and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. And she freaking melted into a pool of mushy goo.
“I’m done playing.” He turned her hand over and flicked his tongue against her skin. “You’re a beautiful woman, Essie.” His lips parted and he placed a hot, open-mouthed kiss in the center of her palm. “I find you fascinating, and so damn sexy.”
Her heart pounded and wetness pooled between her thighs. When she realized she was breathing hard, her mouth still open, she snapped it shut. No man had ever been so bold with her, and she didn’t know how to respond. Flirting wasn’t one of her strengths.
“Um, thank you,” she whispered.
He sent her a hot, piercing look. “When we reach Manzanillo, we’ll find a hotel, I’ll call my friend and we’ll spend the night. I can book two rooms… or one.” Her pulse thundered. “It’s completely up to you. Either way, I’ve enjoyed being on the run with you, Peaches.”
“I confess I’ve enjoyed being on the run with you, too.”
But was she brave enough to spend the night with him?Madre de Dios.The idea of staying in his room and sharing one night of passion with Xander Hawke made her overheat even more. She’d never had the opportunity to indulge in a sexual liaison. This would be their last night together, and she had a pretty good feeling he’d make it extremely memorable. And full of pleasure.
“Just think about it.” He laced his fingers through hers and lowered her hand, laying it on his muscled thigh.
Was he kidding? From now until they reached the coast, it would be all she’d be able to think about. Obsess over. The truth was, he had no idea who she truly was—that she was a cartel king’s sister. Why did he have to be her brother’s enemy? Would Xander care if he discovered she had the same blood running through her veins as José?
Maybe it wouldn’t matter. They had crazy chemistry, and he clearly wanted to act on it. They’d been through a lot the last couple days, and it had taken thirty-two years to find a man who made her blood run hot. Didn’t she deserve it? She’d said she wanted to take her fate into her own hands. And here was the perfect opportunity.
As his thumb made little circles in her palm, she decided to listen to herself. To the inner voice crying out that she wanted him, too. Had there really ever been a question? “Xander—”
Before she could confess her true identity, a loud pop filled the air. Xander released her hand and grabbed the wheel. The car swerved and he slammed on the brakes, skillfully regaining control as they coasted to a stop along the side of the road.
“Dammit. I think we blew a tire,” he grumbled. “I hope there’s a spare.”
She hoped so, too. Otherwise, they’d be walking again.
Movement in the side mirror snagged her attention and she saw a truck approaching in the distance. Xander must have seen it, too, because he froze, watching with narrowed eyes as it pulled up behind them and stopped.
“Maybe they want to help,” she suggested.
The doors opened and four men in skeleton balaclavas climbed out.
Or not.
Chapter eleven
