Page 58 of Javier

“I don’t wanna fight with you and I won’t… do the thing with you.” His throat rippled with a swallow.

“Because I’m not your type and you like hard fucks without attachment.” I narrowed my eyes on him. “Well, maybe I want the same.”

He marched across the deck. “I’m gonna leave now.”

“Yeah, leave.” I waved him off. “Run away and don’t come back.”

“I have a mission and I’ll see it to—”

“To the end, no need to remind me,” I tossed out flatly. “But we’re safe now, you said so yourself, and Tracker Team has hired local security to look after me. Right?”

“Right.”

“If that’s the case, thanks for your services. Good job. Zulu Bravo.”

“It’s Bravo Zulu,” he ground out, his eyes glittering. “What are you getting at?”

“I’m saying that your services are no longer required.” I lifted my chin a notch higher. “As it pertains to me, consider your mission over.”

Chapter Fifteen

Javier

On my way out of the treehouse, I snatched the laptop King had gotten for me. I glanced at the built-to-fuck bed, marched over, and grabbed the stupid terry cloth swans taunting me by the neck. Strangling them in one hand, I wrenched open the door and stepped out into an orange sunset. It would’ve been a nice one if I’d been able to appreciate it. As it was, I was too goddamn furious to appreciate shit.

I reached for my gun and almost drew it on the armed guy coming up the steps. When I realized he was in uniform and his nametag identified him as security staff, I released my hold on my weapon.

“Buenas noches,” he said, setting down a folding chair by the gate. “Señor Guzman?”

“Sí.”

“I’m Pedro,” he shifted to English. “I’m here to watch over theseñorita.”

“Nice to meet you, Pedro. Take these.” I handed him the limp, unraveling swans. “I’m sending up some stuff from the boutique as well as some food from the restaurant. You can knock and hand it over to her. Nobody else goes in or out but me. You got that?”

The short, weathered-faced man gave me two thumbs up.

With my hands fisted and my nails digging into my palms, I pounded the steps with my sandals on my way down the hill. The gall of the woman. She’d kissed me. She’d touched me. Intimately. She’d set me on fire. Her soft hand and crafty little fingers had unleashed the erection of a lifetime, the one that was still torturing me as I marched awkwardly with an extra limb trapped between my legs. I tugged on the crotch of my pants,unable to relieve the pressure.

She’d even told me that she’d dreamed about mebeforeshe met me.

What the hell was that shit about?

I’d been hyper focused on not spilling my come in my pants. She was soft, so soft. Her skin slid smooth and silky beneath my touch. Her breasts were small but firm. They fit in my palms perfectly. I’d gotten lost in the feeling of my thumb circling her generous areolas. I don’t know how I’d been able to control my overwhelming impulse to toss her on the bed and gorge on her pussy.

Fuck my brain.

If I kept visualizing shit like that, the damn stiffy wasn’t gonna go away.

The point was that she’d tested my limits and provoked me until I was mad with lust, and then she’d come out and outright admitted she wanted to fuck me. Just like that. Dared me to do it, really. I’d made a superhuman effort to be noble, and professional—virtuous, for fuck’s sake! Then, the very woman I craved with everything I was had accused me of finding her revolting.

What. The. Fuck?

My indignation hit a new high.

I’d had to remind her that she was beautiful, the most exquisite person I’d ever met. And then I’d had to share the tragic news. I couldn’t fuck her. How was that for a bad joke?

“Goddammit.” None of this shit was in my job description.

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