Page 59 of Vaquero
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Hey. You’re actually smiling,” Meg crooned, her fingers still on Julio’s strong chin and her eyes as blurry as his. Something monumental had just taken place. She could feel it; she just didn’t understand precisely what it was. But this stoic man was smiling and crying at the same time. Not blubbering, but those were definitely tears caught like tiny diamonds in his thick, black lashes. Better yet, he wasn’t doing anything to hold them back. It looked like some dam inside of him had finally broken, and he was letting go.
But then Charlie spoiled it. “Hello up there! You-hoo! Lovebirds!” he bellowed up at them from below. “You gonna build a nest and lay eggs, or you ready to get the hell out of here?”
Julio dashed a quick, rough hand over his face, took in a great big breath that made his belly expand, and replied loudly, “On our way, sir.”
Meg, on the other hand, couldn’t help herself. “Don’t call him sir, Julio. It’ll go straight to his big, fat head.” Then she twisted around and yelled, “Very funny, CB. Give it a rest. I need a minute. I passed out, or didn’t Hotrod tell you?”
“Course, I know you fainted, you big wuss. But we need to keep moving. Can’t keep Captain waiting!”
“Dooley’s not going anywhere, not without that plutonium!”
To heck with him and his high-tech aircraft carrier. Whatever was happening with Julio was just as important. Maybe more so. Meg didn’t want to move, or she’d lose this once-in-a-lifetime connection with him. The big tough guy was actually grinning at her through his teary, red eyes. Darned if those smiling lips hadn’t turned him into the handsomest man she’d ever seen. For the first time since she’d met Julio, she noticed his lashes. Sinfully thick with tiny, silver teardrops matted to them, they drew her into his dark chocolate eyes, like a helpless moth to a flame.
She ached to comfort this particular warrior in all the ways a woman could. He’d seemed so lonely and sad. Until now.
“He’s right. We should hurry,” Julio agreed, his voice hoarse, though he had yet to take his hands off Meg.
She nodded, her gaze caught in his stare. With effort, she forced herself to take in the rest of his masculine face. The angular jaw. The regal arc of his dark brown brows and the double crease between them. Tanned and nearly bronze, he had the look and physique of a noble conquistador. His Spanish lineage added elegance to his stocky, muscular frame. His nose was straight as a knife blade. Sporting a rugged scuff now, his top lip was thin, accented with a perfect Cupid’s bow. But that bottom lip… Lickable. The urge to suck those lips, maybe bite them, took her mind back to their first kiss.
“He, umm…” she murmured breathlessly. “Charlie, umm… he already has the isotopes, right?”
Julio pulled her upper torso closer, his large palm like a dinner plate between her shoulder blades. “He does. Just like I have you.”
Oh, those lucky isotopes.
This man had it all. Body. Muscles. Brains. The alpha predator cunning that made him lethal to breathy women who fainted like damsels in distress. Something crackled between them. Lust. Heat. Need thickened the already humid air around them. Between them. Something magical was happening.
“Y-y-you do?” she stuttered, afraid to breathe.
“Yes. I do,” he replied without a trace of doubt.
That did it. Something in his tone tossed a can full of gasoline over the roaring fire in her gut. Her breasts grew heavy and she was pretty sure the tips of her nipples had just turned to rock. He sounded so certain, as if there were no doubt who was the dominant variable in this equation. He considered her his. She could tell. But Meg was no pushover. Until her crazy heart seemed to have a mind of its own, the way it hopped, skipped, and triple-somersaulted inside her chest and—oh, what the hell? She threw caution to the wind and crashed her mouth into his, kissing the holy bejesus out of him. So much for him being dominant. He should’ve grabbed the chance before she had.
“For God’s sake, what’s keeping you, Juarez?” Charlie shrieked, effectively ruining the sensual moment.
Julio didn’t seem to hear him. His fingers smoothed up the back of Meg’s neck, heading toward her skull. Cradling her head. Just as she lifted a hand to anchor her bandana, his hand lifted, then settled over that annoying scrap of cloth she desperately needed, anchoring it for her.Awww.Her heart melted at his thoughtful gesture. Somehow, he knew what that bandana meant to her.
She’d tossed it away that one time, only to succumb to all the wondering glances of ensigns, petty officers, and LTs onboard the carrier. Like a proud, silly duck, she’d scrounged up another bandana. But Julio honestly cared what was important for her. And somehow, knowing that, turned the bandana into—nothing. It wasn’t important. Not really. Anyone with a brain could see she had no hair.
Breathing hard now, Meg gave into his mouth and tongue. The forest, even the tree they were sitting in, faded away. In all the whole wide world, there was only Julio Juarez and her.
She slanted her head, granting him more access to her mouth. Their tongues made love and he reached under her shirt, cupping her breast, flicking a fingertip through her very practical bra and making her nipple stand up. Meg moaned, wishing they were anywhere but in a tree with Charlie Brown standing under it!
There was so much to love about this man. The feel of his warm, smooth skin under her palms. The sculptured curves and muscular ridges of his back. The tenderness with which he returned her passion. His wet kisses. Arching forward, she filled his palm with more of her generous breast, needing his mouth on that diamond hard tip. If only he could. Would!
Breathing hard, he groaned.
That all-male sound was very nearly Meg’s undoing.
Until Charlie bellowed, “Jesus Fuckin’ Christ! Do I have to come up there? Is she that weak she can’t get her fat ass out of that tree, Juarez?”
Julio broke the kiss then, but he was still so close that Meg went cross-eyed. His smile was back. “Charlie’s a moron,” he whispered. “You don’t have a fat ass. It’s perfect.”
He squeezed her breast, lighting the invisible length of det cord between her pesky nipple and her core, like that sensation stalled her need to devour him on the spot? Meg stifled even as her most feminine muscles clenched at his touch. She was as substantial as melted butter in his hands.
He winked, then said, “Soon, Meg Duncan. We will be together soon.”
