White Dawn: A Military Romantic Suspense Novel (14 page)

Carmen fluttered her tongue around the
heated ridge of flesh, tasting him and exploring the shape. Then
she began to slide her mouth up and down the shaft, letting her
teeth and lips bump over the head each time. The taste of his
satiny skin was delicious.

Garrett began to thrust into her mouth,
his breath coming in little gasps, his hips shifting
helplessly.

At the last minute, she stopped and sat
up. She couldn’t help but smile at the sound he made as she
released him. “Maybe another time,” she said. “But right now, I
need this too much….” She moved up along his body until her hips
were right over his, picked up his cock and guided it into her.

The heat of his cock felt wonderful
against the walls of her pussy. She closed her eyes, savoring the
sensation. He filled her perfectly.

Garrett’s hard fingers bit into her
thighs, as he gripped her almost convulsively. “Hurry,” he
muttered.

The pleasure leapt in her at the ragged
sound of his voice. She slowly lifted her hips, feeling him
withdraw, every inch caressing her. Then just as slowly, she
lowered herself back onto him, with a heavy sigh. It was so nice,
she did it again, enjoying his length and the throbbing she could
feel inside her.

Her climax was blooming, crawling in
rabid need through her nerves, making her clit pulse heavily and
her pussy grip around Garrett like a fist. But she didn’t give in
to the need to come. She rode him at the same pace and the speed
seemed to spiral her pleasure even higher. She could feel
everything
.

Knowing he would like it, that it would
tease him even more, she dropped her hand to her pussy and rested
her fingers against her swollen clit.

“Christ. Carmen…” he breathed.

“Mmm…” she agreed and her breath hitched
as she stroked. She was going to come at any second.

His hands on her thighs tightened their
grip, holding her still. With a gasp of effort, he thrust up with
his hips, driving himself deep into her. Then again. “Make yourself
come,” he said, his voice as ragged as hers.

It was like he had commanded her climax.
It exploded, causing her nerves to scream and every muscle to clamp
down. Even her vision faded for a moment. But she could feel
Garrett come inside her, his cock pulsing. His groan was as hard as
his grip on her thighs.

Before she could even begin to recover,
he reared up off the bed. He gripped her waist and flipped her
underneath him, her back on the mattress. He pushed his arm under
her knee, then lifted and parted her thighs. Then he thrust himself
into her and she arched off the mattress in delight.

Garrett leaned over her, watching her,
his gray eyes half-closed. But it wasn’t because he was scowling.
It was because he was enjoying himself.

Carmen tried to gain control of her
breathing, for she was almost panting, but she couldn’t. She was
writhing under him, she realized, and was just as helpless to stop
that.

“Tables turned,” he told her, his voice
deep and rough.

He began to thrust, the same slow,
agonizing pace she had used. Despite his climax, his cock was still
hard and hot and he used it to drive her crazy, shifting his hips
so the head stroked her inner walls.

Her pussy was clenching and releasing
around him, her clit pounding in time with her heart. Carmen cupped
his ass and tried to urge him to go faster, to go deeper. But he
just smiled and kept up the insanely slow stroking.

Finally, she threw her hands to the
mattress and clenched them, as her climax shattered over her.

But Garrett wasn’t done with her, yet.
He began to thrust, harder and faster just as she had wanted.
Carmen groaned as the intensely good feelings kept rolling through
her, making her writhe. Garrett strained over her, his hips working
as he slid in and out. She could feel that her pussy was slick with
moisture, evidence of her pleasure.

This time they came together and her
climax was every bit as good as the first. Garrett rammed himself
into her, a choked groan squeezed out of him as he came. He hung
over her and she could see the pulse in his throat working hard.
Her own heart was thudding loudly in her ears and the heat between
them was ferocious.

Garrett met her gaze. There was no
animosity in his eyes, but there was a reserved expression.

Carmen’s heart gave an extra hard jump.
She knew what that reservation meant.

Garrett released her and moved onto the
bed next to her. The bed was small enough that they had to stay
close together to fit, so he turned on his side. He trailed his
fingers over her shoulder, making her nerves twitch.

The silence between them stretched
onward and Carmen sought for something,
anything
to say, to
break it. But all the usual post-coital conversational subjects
would be wildly inappropriate right now. Garrett wasn’t an average
Saturday night date.

Garrett cleared his throat. “You said
something about ‘next time’.”

“I did?” She frowned. “I don’t
remember.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said,
indifferently. But his fingers stopped moving.

The halt of his hand alerted her. Carmen
didn’t let herself stiffen, or move. She didn’t look at him
directly. Instead, using the most casual tone she could muster, she
said. “Would you like a next time?”

He was silent for a long moment. Then
his fingers stroked gently over her upper breast. “Yes,” he said
softly.

“Okay, then.” She said it just as
softly.

After a moment, he laid down properly,
his head pillowed on his arm. His hand came to rest on her arm, the
knuckles brushing the side of her breast. The silence settled
between them again, only this time it held no tension. Carmen could
feel herself relaxing. A huge yawn caught at her.

“I should go,” she said and turned her
head to check Garrett’s reaction.

His gaze was steady. “You don’t have
to.”

She bit her lip.

“Stay, if you want,” he added.

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t,”
he said. There was just enough of the sarcasm she was used to
hearing from him that she relaxed again.

She turned on her side. “A mattress.
Luxury,” she murmured, sleep taking her fast.

She realized she had fallen asleep when
she woke, startled by movement. A sheet and cover dropped over her
and Garrett’s body settled behind her. His arm tucked over her
waist and his hand slid under her breast.

Carmen stared at the ghostly moonlight
coming in through the high window.
What now?
She wondered.
What is Garrett thinking now?

Unlike any man she had ever met, she
just couldn’t fathom his motives, his desires. She never had. He
had the upper hand.

There were secret service agents everywhere, which
told Olivia that this really was happening. She glanced at Nick as
they approached the bench at the bus stop where they had been
instructed to wait, but Nick seemed unruffled. There were agents in
black suits scattered across the pavement and standing under the
awning of the newspaper stand behind the bench.

It was six in the morning and there were
very few people up and about. It was Sunday and it was going to be
a very hot day. The sky already had the washed-out, pale-blue tone
of late summer.

Across the road, sprinklers were
watering the lawn under the big old trees.

From among the suits, a man wearing a
far more fashionable suit stood up and waved. “Nick!” he
called.

Olivia stared at the man. Adán
Caballero, one of the biggest A-List actors in Hollywood, sitting
on a bus stop bench at six in the morning, on Pennsylvania Avenue.
Amazing.

Olivia had started this junket to
Washington with the impression that her family connections were
more valuable to Nick than her worth as a diplomat, but after a
week of kicking their heels and taking useless meetings, Olivia had
admitted to Nick that she clearly didn’t have the weight he needed
to get things moving with the White House.

Nick had nodded, his hand in the pocket
of his trousers and a far-seeing look in his eyes. “It was worth a
try, but your father is good at his job. He’s looking out for the
President, which is exactly what he should be doing”

“Then it’s a stalemate,” Olivia
said.

Nick was silent for a long while and she
got the impression that his thoughts were racing, but nothing
showed on his face. Then he smiled and it was a predatory
expression, one that reminded her of his nickname. The Red
Leopard.

“If your family connections won’t do it,
perhaps mine will.” He picked up his cellphone from the coffee
table between them and thumbed through his contacts, then
dialed.

“Adán…is this a good time?” he
asked.

Olivia raised her brow, genuinely
puzzled. She wasn’t aware of any Adán in Nick’s family, although
her knowledge of his relations was sketchy. Vistarians were
passionate about their families and counted cousins, second cousins
and even more distant relations as part of the core family. Even
adoptees like Daniel were included and the lack of familial blood
didn’t seem to be a barrier at all. She clearly had a lot to learn
about the family she had married in to, if Nick had a relative he
thought would have more influence over the White House than her own
father. The only Adán she knew was the Hollywood film star, Adán
Caballero.

Nick nodded. “That’s right. A week now.”
He listened for a moment, frowning. “You’re reading my mind. Would
it be a problem?” Then he laughed. “If that’s what it takes.
Thanks, Adán.” He listened for a minute, his frown deepening. “You
don’t have to do—”

This time, even Olivia could hear the
strident tones at the other end.

Nick lifted the phone away from his ear
and looked at it, then put it back. Finally he said, “Well, if you
insist, then of course you should. I appreciate it, Adán. We all
do.”

He put the phone back on the table.
“Adán is going to give the President a call. They play golf
together whenever they can carve out time for a round. Adán’s
pretty sure if he spots the President a stroke or two, he’ll agree
to a meeting. Unofficially, of course, but even five minutes with
the President will be enough, I think.”

Olivia didn’t feel any surprise that
someone who was the President’s golf buddy could swing a private
meeting. Washington worked on relationships like that all the time.
Deals were struck over lunch and a handshake that could change the
course of history.

“Adán who?” she asked. “I’m still
learning your family tree.”

“My aunt’s son. My aunt is Karen Lord.
Adán Caballero is her son.” He frowned. “He’s insisting on dropping
everything and coming to Washington to set up the meeting. He just
wrapped on Tuesday, so it won’t upset any contracts.”

Olivia sank down onto the chair opposite
Nick. “Adán Caballero,” she repeated blankly. No wonder Nick
thought he might have the clout to swing a meeting with the
President of the United States. And Adán’s mother was Karen Lord?
She had been considered a goddess at the peak of her career in the
nineteen sixties.

“And all I had to offer was a paltry
Chief of Staff as a father,” Olivia said.

Nick grinned. “Welcome to the
family.”

That had been Friday night. Now they
stood at a bus stop on Pennsylvania Avenue and Adán Caballero was
gripping Nick’s hand and pounding him on the back, a wide smile on
his face.

“Adán, meet the newest member of the
family,” Nick said, drawing Olivia forward. “Olivia Davenport de
Castellano. You haven’t met her husband, Daniel, either, but he’s
Duardo’s brother.”

“This war is adding to the family at
light speed,” Adan said. “I thought wars depleted families.” He
picked up Olivia’s hand and went to kiss it, then paused to look at
the bandages. “War wounds?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Absolutely, yes,” Nick said firmly.
“And in the service of Vistaria, too.”

Adán dropped her hand and gripped her
shoulders. “Welcome to the family,” he said and kissed both her
cheeks.

Olivia found her tongue. “It’s very good
to meet you. I wasn’t aware of the family connection until Nick
phoned you.”

Adán smiled and it was the same sexy
smile that graced magazine covers and billboards. He winked. “Nicky
likes to use me as a trump card. It’s good to know the fame is
useful for something.” He glanced at Nick. “You’re going to get
about seven minutes with Richard. That’s how long it takes to the
get to the cathedral.”

“It’s seven minutes more than I could
have arranged for myself. I’m grateful, Adán.”

“How is it going?” Adán said. “There not
much on the news and that’s filtered anyway. How is it really
going?”

“We have a tiny toe-hold,” Nick said.
“The next week will decide things. One way or another.”

Adán sobered. “What can I do?”

“Keep talking about what is happening on
Vistaria. Draw attention to us.”

“I mean, what can I do to
really
help?”

“That is helping.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know. But your face is too well
known, Adán. You step foot on Vistaria and Serrano will have you in
irons and will parade you around like a prize chicken. He knows
your family connections, too.”

The agents shifted and drew closer to
them, hemming them in.

Adán sighed. “I don’t like sitting in
Hollywood and play-acting while this is going on.”

“Everything you do and everything you’ve
done is far more effective than anything we can do in Acapulco.
You’re helping, Adán.” Nick grinned. “Besides, movie goers the
world over would shoot me if anything happened to you.”

Adán gave Nick a sour smile as the
Presidential motorcade pulled up beside them. One of the agents
opened the door and stepped back.