Pulling my fingers out, I move up, covering her with my body, and line my cock against her swollen entrance.
“Come with me,” I say hoarsely, meeting her gaze as I penetrate her in one hard stroke, and her body obeys me, her tight, wet flesh clenching around me, milking my cock just as the orgasm hits me. Her beautiful eyes go soft and unfocused, her face twisting with ecstasy as her fingers dig into my sides, and I hear her choked cry as my seed spurts out. It feels like every muscle in my body is vibrating at the same time, my lungs working like bellows as the pleasure blasts through me in scorching waves, and as I collapse on top of her, I know that this is it.
I’ll never want another woman again.
I don’t know how long it takes until the aftershocks die down, but by the time I find the strength to push myself up on my elbows, Sara has recovered enough to realize what happened, and horror creeps across her face. Like me, she’s breathing hard, her cheeks flushed with post-coital glow, but there’s no joy in her gaze, only the sharp glitter of tears.
She’s regretting this, beating herself up again, and I won’t stand for it.
“Don’t.” I dip my head to kiss her cheeks as the tears spill out, streaking down her temples. “Don’t, ptichka. Don’t feel bad. You did nothing wrong. It was all me. I hurt you, remember? I gave you no choice.”
Her breath trembles on her lips as I rain kisses across her face, and I feel her shaking underneath me, her hands twisting in the sheets as the tears keep coming. I’m still inside her, my softening cock buried in her body, yet she’s trying not to touch me, to curl in on herself and reject the connection between us.
I wanted her pain and I got it—and it’s tearing me up inside.
I don’t know what to do, how to calm her, so I just keep kissing her, stroking her as gently as I can. The thirst for vengeance is gone, and all that’s left is regret. Once again, I’m the cause of Sara’s suffering, and this time, it’s infinitely worse. This time, I know her.
I know her, and I care.
She’s still crying when I withdraw from her and get up to dispose of the condom in the bathroom. When I return with a wet towel, I find her curled on her side, with the blanket drawn up to her neck.
“Here, let me clean you up,” I murmur, pulling the blanket off her naked body, and when she doesn’t object, I run the towel over her soft folds, soothing the sore, swollen flesh and wiping away the evidence of her desire. She’s no longer crying, but her eyes are still wet, and the moment I’m done, she huddles back under the blanket, pulling it over her head.
I’m about to climb into bed with her when I hear the vibration of my phone on the nightstand, where I left it in case of emergencies.
Frowning, I pick it up and glance at the screen.
Change of plans, the message from Anton reads. Velazquez is moving to the Guadalajara compound in 2 days. It’s tomorrow or never.
I bite back a curse, fighting an urge to throw the phone across the room. Of all the shitty timing… We just finished working out all the logistics of the plan and were going to strike in six days. But if our target is changing locations, we’re back to square one in terms of planning. It might take several weeks to scope out Velazquez’s Guadalajara compound, and our client, a rival drug lord, is already getting antsy. He wants Velazquez gone as of yesterday, and he won’t look kindly upon a delay.
Anton is right. We have to act now.
Get the plane and the supplies ready, I text back. We’re flying out early morning.
Got it, Anton responds. I assume you want the Americans on her?
Yes, I text. Tell them to stay close near the clinic.
The last time my team and I had to go out of the country on a job, I hired a few locals to watch over Sara in our absence and report to me on her movements. They’re highly vetted, and though I don’t trust them nearly as much as my guys, so far I’ve been pleased with their services.
They should be able to protect her while I’m gone.
Setting my phone alarm to go off in four hours, I climb under the blanket with Sara and pull her into my embrace, curving my body around hers from the back. She stiffens but doesn’t pull away, and as I close my eyes, breathing in her scent, a feeling of peace settles over me.
Nothing is resolved between us, but for some reason, I’m certain that it will be, confident that we’ll make this work, whatever “this” turns out to be. It’s the only way, because I can’t picture my life without her.
Sara is mine, and I’d die before I set her free.
33
Sara
* * *
A persistent buzzing drags me out of sound sleep. For a second, I’m so disoriented I think it’s the middle of the night.