First Strike (6 page)

Javier was waiting for her when she stepped out, the heat reminding her that it was almost midday. Wearing jeans, black boots, and a plain gray and white ringer T-shirt that seemed to emphasize his biceps, he pretended not to know her, but hailed a cab.

“Are you going to the Mall of the Emirates?” she asked as he climbed into the back seat. “Can we share the fare?”

They ate brunch together, then strolled through the mall, Laura amused by Javier’s reaction to the merchandise.

“More than a hundred grand for a diamond-studded cell phone. You could buy a house with that.”

Laura laughed. “Not here you couldn’t.”

“Right.”

She bought a small bottle of perfume from her favorite parfumier, while he bought a single postcard, one that showed the highlights of the city—Sheikh Zayed Road, the Atlantis Hotel, Jumeirah Beach, and Burj Al Arab.

“I thought you weren’t impressed by the sights here.”

“This is for my
abuelita
,” he explained. “She likes to see where I’ve been. I’ll be home before she gets it, but she’ll love it anyway.”

“Aw, that’s sweet.”

He grinned. “Hey, I’m all heart.”

And then it hit her in a way it hadn’t before.

In a little more than twelve hours, Javier would be leaving Dubai City, and that would be the end. She wouldn’t see him again.

They ended up at an expat beach party, more because it allowed them to let down their guard and be themselves than because they actually wanted to be there. It looked like a hundred other beach parties Javier had been to, alcohol flowing freely, loud music, men and women laughing, dancing, holding hands. But he didn’t need to look at the glittering skyline to know he wasn’t in San Diego. There was a kind of frenetic energy in the crowd, as if everyone were trying hard to convince themselves they were having the time of their lives, their conversation revolving as often as not around wealth—who was rich, who’d just made bank, who they thought was going to hit it big next.

Javier bought a couple of drinks, guiding Laura away from the crowd, only too aware of the way people watched her, obviously recognizing her. They ended up walking the length of the beach, Javier answering her questions about summers spent as a child in Puerto Rico. It felt good just to walk beside her, their fingers intertwined, the sound of the surf around them. And not for the first time he found himself wishing tonight weren’t their last night together. He hadn’t gotten enough of her—not by a long shot.

“My brothers, sisters, cousins, and I ran wild from the time the sun came up, playing baseball, swimming in the surf, digging in the sand.”

“I bet you got into a lot of trouble.” Her lips curved in a little smile.

“Hell, yeah, I did.” There was more truth to that than she would ever know. But that was the advantage of a relationship like this. She would only ever see him at his best. “When it got dark, someone’s mother would call us in for supper. Mamá Andreína would feed us, throw us in the tub, and put us to bed.”

“That sounds like a wonderful way to grow up.”

“It was.” He hadn’t spoken with many people about his childhood. His brother Yadiel’s death made that too painful. But talking to Laura was as easy and natural as breathing. “My brothers and I fell asleep every night to the singing of
coquís
.”

“What’s a …
coquí
?”

“You don’t know about
coquís
?” He found himself chuckling. “They’re frogs. They live in the rainforest and the parks, and they sing all night.”

He did his best to imitate their high-pitched call, more of a whistle really.

She gave him a skeptical look, one graceful blond brow arched. “That sounds more like a bird than a frog. Frogs say ‘ribbit.’”

“Not in Puerto Rico,
bella
.” He did his
coquí
imitation again. “They
do
sound more like birds—you’re right about that. And they are tiny—but very loud.”

They reached the beach marker that indicated the end of the hotel’s property and stopped, turning to look out at the dark water. The breeze caught her hair, the hem of her dress. God, she was beautiful.

“Where will you be this time tomorrow?” she asked, her hand warm in his.

He did a little math. “I’ll be about to land at JFK. How about you?”

“They haven’t sorted out my visa problems, so it looks like I’ll be staying here for a few more days.” There was a tone of resignation to her voice.

“Where are you headed next?”

She looked up at him, an apology written on her face. “I can’t talk about it. I
wish
I could. I trust you, but my security contract—”

“No worries. I understand.” He leaned down and kissed her. “Dance with me?”

In the distance he could hear “Time to Say Goodbye” playing as the Dubai Fountain put on a show for another nighttime crowd.

She rested her hand in his, her other arm going around his shoulder as she slipped into his arms. “I’ve had such a great time with you.”

“Same here.” He smiled. “It’s not over yet,
bella
.”

They danced slow circles in the sand, Javier singing the words to the Spanish version of the song, the melancholy music putting a strange ache in his chest, an ache he saw reflected in her eyes. Was she feeling what he was feeling?

And what exactly
was
he feeling? He wasn’t sure. He only knew that he wasn’t ready for this to end—and that he wanted to kiss her.

He leaned down and took her lips with his. This wasn’t the mild peck on the cheek a married man might be able to give his wife in public in Dubai. It was a full-on, open-mouthed kiss that involved tongue, lips, teeth. And it made him want more.

You’re playing with fire,
cabrón
.

They were far from the anonymity of the crowd now, standing where they could be seen, a man and woman alone together, kissing and holding each other tight.

He drew back. “What do you say we ditch this scene and make the most of tonight back in your hotel room?”

She nodded. “I’d like that.”

In the distance, they could hear the crowd at the fountain applauding.

CHAPTER SIX

Laura walked through the hotel’s doors and went straight up to her room, Javier not far behind. Their slow dance on the beach and that long, scorching kiss had left her ravenous for him, her need accentuated by knowing that he was leaving in the morning.

Tomorrow night, she would sleep alone.

That’s just how it was, of course. She’d been lucky in this big, crazy world to come across a man like him, a man she could enjoy herself with so completely, a man who not only made her body sing, but also respected her boundaries and her career.

He arrived at her door moments after she did, the intensity and urgency she saw in his eyes a match for what she felt.

She reached for him, took his hand, and led him to the shower, eager to rinse away the day’s heat and sand. They wasted no time, undressing one another with impatient tugs, stepping together into the warm spray.

Javier grabbed the soap first. He turned her away from him and drew her back against him, lathering his hands, then rubbing them over her body, taking extra time with her breasts. “Does that feel good,
bella
?”

The feel of his soap-slick hands on her wet skin unleashed a flood of heat between her thighs. “
Yeah
.”

“
Bien.
” He plucked her nipples, drew them to hard peaks, the sensation almost unbearably arousing. “How about now?”

“Even …
better
.” She felt her legs go weak and reached out to press one hand against the tile wall to steady herself, her fingers slowly sliding down the slick surface.

He wrapped a strong arm around her waist, the other hand forsaking her breasts to rub soap over her belly, her hips, her bottom. “You have the
sexiest
ass.”

He stepped aside, let the water rinse the lather away. Then he bent her forward and forced her feet apart. “Spread your legs.”

She did as he asked, expecting to feel a sharp sting any second, the memory of last night’s sexy spankings making her bite her lower lip with anticipation.

Instead of spanking her, he knelt behind her, spread her with his hands, and nipped her ass—one fierce little bite. “I want your scent on me, all over my skin, down my throat. I want to take it home with me.”

In the next instant he was tasting her, his tongue sliding a serpentine path from her clit to the opening of her vagina. “Mmm.”

“
Javi!
” If her fingers could have dug into the tiles, they would have. She clawed at the wet wall, locked her knees, afraid her legs might give out.

He lapped at her, teased her entrance, moving his head back and forth as if he were trying to bury his face in her, the vigorous motion carrying his tongue back and forth across her clit.

She’d always loved both getting and giving head, but this was something else, the sensation so raw that she was afraid she’d come too fast to savor it. And she
wanted
to savor it. She willed her vagina not to tighten, tried to relax and just let the erotic thrill of being devoured by him carry her along, her cheek now pressed against the tile, her breath coming in ragged pants.

But then he thrust his tongue inside her—and she shattered.

She cried out, her orgasm so intense that she reached down between her thighs to cup herself as if to hold herself together, his tongue fucking her, forcing its way past her clenching muscles to stroke her until at last her climax had passed. She sagged against the cold wall, breathing hard.

But he wasn’t finished.

He drew her upright and turned her in his arms, his mouth coming down on hers, her own musky taste exploding across her tongue. He caught her left leg with his hand and wrapped it around his waist, his breath leaving his lungs in a rush as he slid inside her. “You are so tight, so sweet.”

She clung to him, her senses filled with him as he picked up the rhythm, his powerful thrusts carrying them both over the edge.

Laura turned off the water, resting her head against the hard wall of Javier’s chest, his arms encircling her, his heart thudding as hard as hers. The bathroom air was heavy with the scent of sex, his salt and her musk mingling in the steam. She might have stayed like that forever had the hotel phone on her night stand not begun to ring.

“
Helvete
!” She pushed out of the shower stall, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around herself as she ran to answer. She reached it on the fourth ring. “Laura Nilsson.”

“Miss Nilsson,” a man’s voice said, “I am sorry to disturb you, but we have received a complaint about noise coming from your room. Your neighbor said it sounded as if you were screaming or fighting with someone.”

Laura’s pulse skipped, her mind racing.

Think fast, Nilsson, or get ready for a few years in prison.

She let a quaver come into her voice. “I-I’m very sorry. I received some very upsetting news from home tonight. I was … crying. I didn’t realize I was disturbing anyone.”

She looked up to see Javier listening, a towel wrapped around his narrow hips, beads of water on his bare chest. He moved quickly and silently to the door, looked out the security peephole, then glanced over at her and shook his head.

No one was listening in the hallway.

“I am very sorry to hear that, Miss Nilsson. Is there any way we at the Radisson may be of help to you?”

“I’m afraid not. There’s nothing to do now but pray for my grandmother.” Laura hated to lie, but she was pretty sure she’d hate prison more.

“I will keep her in my prayers, Miss Nilsson. So sorry to have troubled you.”

“I’m the one who is sorry. I let myself get carried away.” Yes, she had, but with sexual bliss, not with grief or worry. “I’ll make certain not to disturb anyone further.”

The man wished her a good-night and hung up.

Laura did the same, then turned and glared at Javier, fighting not to laugh.

He shrugged, an innocent look on his face that had no right to be there. “What?
You
were the one who screamed.”

She tried not to smile. “You
made
me do it.”

A grin spread on those magical lips of his. “I told you I would.”

Javier finished addressing the postcard he planned to mail to Mamá Andreína and set it together with the pen he’d borrowed on Laura’s nightstand. “How long has it been since you’ve been home—and where
is
home, exactly?”

They lounged naked on the bed facing each other, sharing a bowl of Medjool dates, Javier trying to stay aware of the time.

As much as he wanted to ignore the clock, he knew he had to leave her soon. It was already nearing midnight, and he had an early flight. He still needed to pack his duffel, confirm his reservation, print out his boarding pass, get some sleep.

Then again, who needed sleep? He could sleep on the plane.

“I have a flat in Manhattan, but I haven’t been there for almost six months.” She nibbled a date, daintily prying the pit out with her fingers. “I spent my last vacation with my mother and grandmother in Stockholm. I’ve been leasing the place to another reporter.”

A flat in Manhattan.

Not bad for a twenty-eight-year-old single woman.

“It must get lonely.”

She gave a little shrug. “Sometimes, but someone has to do this job. It’s important that people back home know what’s going on. Maybe it sounds egotistical, but I’m a good journalist. I want to do my part.”

“It doesn’t sound egotistical. It’s the truth. You
are
good.”

“Besides, Chris, my cameraman, and I are good friends. He spends more time with me than he does his wife. And Nico, Cody, and Tim—that’s my security team—they’re a lot of fun when they’re not being grumpy and serious.”

“You and a bunch of guys, huh?” Javier tried to ignore a stab of possessiveness.