His other hand moved up inside my damp shirt and cupped my breast, while he continued the erotic rhythm of his pumping hips, his tongue moving in time.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Dakota,” he panted, massaging and squeezing my bare breast.
Oh my God. I’d never wanted anything more in my life. I’d never needed anything more than I did him at that exact moment. I slid my hand between our bodies and reached for the top button of his jeans. I worked it open, and then undid the next one. The tip of my finger grazed the velvety tip of his erection, causing him to release a groan. I slid my hand inside just a bit farther, wanting to wrap my fingers around the fullness of him.
He rocked himself into my hand and started unbuttoning the top of my jeans.
We were going to do this. Right there.
He began to slide down my pants and panties over my hips. All I could think of was getting him inside me. “You were right; I can’t believe how much I want you,” I said.
He froze and quickly moved back.
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “Don’t stop.” I could handle anything, anything in this world except him stopping.
“Shit. What the fuck am I doing?” He put himself back inside his jeans.
Still panting, I stood there, not caring that the rough tree bark dug into my back. “It’s okay.”
He turned his back to me. “It’s not okay. I swear you’ll be the death of me—I can’t think straight around you. Button your pants.”
Wounded and humiliated, I did as he asked, all the while, thinking about what a total jerk I was for letting myself get carried away like I had.
But clearly you want him. Yes. I did. In a bad way. Like I occasionally needed chocolate or to spend over my credit limit. But I was better than a simple urge. Wasn’t I?
Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn’t. But that didn’t make the sting of rejection any less painful. Truth was, I would have gone through with it.
“Come on,” he grabbed my hand and continued walking us through the woods.
“Wait.” I marched back to the tree and found my notebook. Who knew, maybe this would be the only memory I’d ever have of my father after all was said and done.
Paolo cussed a few choice words and continued ahead. “Hurry, for God’s sake.”
We walked in silence for several moments, me wondering why he was so pissy when I was the one who’d been rejected.
“Are you actually mad?” I whispered.
He stopped abruptly, causing me to almost ram into his back. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry. Why?” I asked.
“We are in the middle of a fucking mess, and I’m acting like a fucking sixteen year old who can’t keep his dick in his pants. I was unprofessional, and it will never happen again.”
“Oh. That’s right. I’m just a job. ” I walked on ahead, not knowing where I was going, but far away from him felt insanely rational and very good.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Two long, cold hours later, I was simply thankful it was September and not October or November. Any colder and my nose, fingertips, and toes would have been left behind as ice chips.
Shivering, I watched Paolo approach a large cabin through the backyard. The lights were off. For a moment I thought he was going to break in. Instead, he walked around the side, grabbed something from a bush, and then popped open a side door leading to the attached garage.
“What are you doing?”
He waved me over.
I entered the dark garage, and he shut the door behind me. He flipped on the lights, revealing this wasn’t just a garage with another SUV—this one black—but an arsenal of sorts. “Whose place is this?”
“A friend’s,” was his only answer.
He went quickly to work, opening locked cabinets and loading duffel bags into the back of the truck.
“Why do I have the feeling you’ve been planning for this event for a very, very long time?”
He glanced at me, too busy to truly see me. “Planned, yes. Very, very long, no. I was assigned to you again three weeks ago.”
“What’s in those?”
“Supplies.” He plunked a heavy box into the back of the SUV, and then grabbed another box that sort of clanked when it landed. “And a few guns with plenty of ammo.”
“And where does the elusive, gun-hungry Jason plan to take me now?” I crossed my goose-bumped arms over my chest.
“Jason?” he asked.
“As in…Bourne?”
He stared blankly.
Ugh! “Never mind,” I said.
“I’m taking you into hiding, to a level one safe house—we only use them when there’s a problem.”
“Guess this qualifies,” I mumbled.
“Sometimes leaks happen, which is why when we go to one, we sever all communication with other people for months.”
“Months? Why months?” And how the hell would I survive months of being alone with him? I’d be a big hot mess!