Page 74 of Afraid to Hope

And she did.

Natasha and Bane reached the outskirts of Tinghir after the last of the ripped tissue-paper pinks and oranges disappeared from the sky. Around them were the fading shadows of the vast palm orchard bordering the Todra River, which created an oasis the city was known for. Farther ahead was the gorge. Natasha was eager to explore Tinghir in the morning.

They arrived at the hotel, presented passports, and took their luggage to the room. The air charged as soon as Bane shut the door behind him. The tension thickened—vibrating, anticipatory. Impatiently, he yanked his tee over his head and tossed it to the floor while walking toward her. His hands drifted to his belt.

“Clothes off, sweetheart. It’s been a long day. We need each other. I want to fill you up, feel you milk me dry as you come undone.”

His olive-toned skin glowed and the tattoos inking his skin took on extra definition in the moonlight. His jeans and boxers cascaded to the floor and he kicked them aside. He was naked. Glorious.

Natasha’s pulse hammered as Bane’s malachite gaze sizzled through her. They had taunted each other all day. She was more than primed and couldn’t look away from his long, thick length beckoning her. The punch of arousal made her ache, and a delicious heaviness coiled in her belly. God, how she wanted him, needed him.

His smile was feral, his expression hungry.

A rush of moisture soaked her red lace thong and her hands shook as she relieved herself of her shirt andkhakis,tossing them to the chair in the corner of their room. She reached behind to unclasp her matching demi-bra.

“Nice,” he hissed though his teeth, his nostrils flaring. “Leave it on. The panties too.” His hazel eyes locked with hers with intensity as his fingers whispered over the maddening pulse in her neck and trailed down to the hollow between her collarbones. His fingers dipped inside the top of the lace bra, finding her achingly sensitive nipples.

Bane captured her moan with his mouth, devouring her with his lips and tongue. He guided Natasha’s hands to cup him, his heavy breathing matching hers. “Feel how ready I am for you.” His fingers trailed across her belly and teased along the fine edge of her thong. “Are you as ready for me, beauty?”

Natasha’s thighs quivered and parted, seeking more.

Lantern light flickered over their damp skin. Bane had passed out after emptying himself, chasing her shattering release, and slept soundly, tired from driving all day and sated from their lovemaking.

Wide awake, Natasha’s mind turned over everything that pointed to the stark truth—her grandfather had been murdered by the American. Her eyes still felt gritty from crying earlier. Her grief over losing him was fresh again, but this time was mixed with anger and questions, one of which was the extent of Pépé’s involvement in the American.

She flipped on her side and propped her head up with her hand, sidling closer, seeking the warmth of Bane’s skin and his heady, male scent. The delicate skin of Natasha’s upper thighs and breasts was chafed where the stubble of his beard had branded her.

Bane’s skin quivered where her fingers trailed over his powerful shoulder, the intertwined tattoos that began there and covered his corded upper arm, chest, and obliques. She noticed for the first time the scar tissue skillfully camouflaged within the artwork below his rib cage. What had happened? She lingered on the area, kissing it tenderly before nibbling on his hip bone, her gaze drifting to the vee of his flat lower abs, elusive beneath the rumpled sheet.

Bane ran his finger over the curve of her hip, murmuring in a groggy voice, “Much lower and I’m a goner.”

“Hi.” Natasha turned her head and rested it on his abs, smiling softly. “You were sleeping soundly. Sorry, mm, I got carried away,” she purred, stroking his straining thickness. “So you’re awake.”

Bane’s knuckles tenderly grazed her cheek. “Yeah, that kind of attention quickly brings me to full mast. As much as I’d enjoy another round with you, beauty, I’d like a shower and food. In that order.”

Natasha sat up and straddled him. “Are you sure?” She pouted.

He sat up and kissed her as he moved her off him. “Duty calls. We need to be seen and start leaving bread crumbs for anyone who might be watching. Let’s walk into the heart of Tinghir and eat.”

Natasha drew the sheet around her and settled into the pillows. Her phone buzzed and she checked the screen before answering it. “Good evening, Emmet. … Yes. We’re headed to a late dinner. … I see. … What?” A shadow passed over her and she sat forward. “That’s extremely disappointing. Italy? Are you certain? Okay. I’ll share with him. Yes. That too. Bye,” she said, glancing at Bane with a ghost of a smile and disconnecting the call.

“Share.” Bane drew curlicues over her exposed back, raising goose bumps and her pulse.

“I can’t think when you touch me like that.”

Bane drew the sheet up to his waist, folded his hands over his crotch, and cocked an eyebrow at her. “Better?”

Natasha gave him a steely look. “The latest reports are credible. There’s an active cell operating here that’s implicated in the disappearances of theHomo sapiensand the codex. Furthermore, chatter says the codex you and I are trying to repatriate is in Italy. Where or with whom is yet to be determined and confirmed. And Emmet said to turn on your bloody phone. He tried to ring you first.”

Bane looked over to the nightstand and flipped his phone over. It was dead. Apparently in his haze of passion, he’d forgotten to recharge it. Not good.

“Any word on the farm?” he asked, plugging the phone in. “Or theHomo sapiens?Let’s multitask.” He padded toward the bathroom. “Bring me up to speed on what Emmet said.”

Natasha followed, continuing to talk while Bane turned on the shower and waited for warmer water. “The farm was abandoned,” she said, trying to focus on relaying Emmet’s information instead of recalling that the scratches marring his skin were where she’d raked his back while she rode him hard in the Jeep.

The lean, sculpted muscles of his back coiled and slid over each other as he moved, mesmerizing her. His torso tapered from broad shoulders into narrow hips and a perfect ass, cut, concave flanks extending into powerful thighs. She secured her hair into a bun with a band lying on the sink edge.

“No recording devices or surveillance equipment. No electricity.”

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