Page 69 of Vaquero
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Meg rolled onto her side, waiting breathlessly while Julio was washing his hands in the head. She’d never been so daring with a man before. Not once in all her years. But he liked her, maybe even loved her. How wonderful was that? To have come all the way to Brazil on a wing and a prayer, depressed and thinking the best of life was behind her, only to find that the moment she’d arrived at the orphanage, her poor-me, pity-party vanished. And then Julio came along.
Working for the few children whom Oz hadn’t yet kidnapped, had altered Meg’s American-sized perspective in a huge way. There she’d been, by the world’s standards, a privileged American in a strange land. She’d been feeling sorry for herself, when back home, she’d had more than all the orphans put together. A roof over her head. Nutritious food on her table three times a day. Entertainment at her fingertips. Heat during chilly winters, air conditioning in summer. Affordable medical care when she needed it. Best of all, big brothers who watched out for her and parents who adored her. Now, here was Julio, the force behind the change this time.
She loved looking at him. He hadn’t shut the door, and that naked gorgeous male physique was on display. He was comfortable with his nudity, and that made her comfortable with hers. He hadn’t said anything, but she’d seen the glint of approval in the corner of his eye when she’d tossed her bandana and bared her entire head. He might not know it, but his protectiveness about that inconsequential scrap of fabric was what had convinced her that she didn’t need it. Julio didn’t seem to see her handicap. Instead, he’d looked through it to the real Meg Duncan from the very start.
She’d been vain to hide behind a bandana, to even think that others couldn’t tell she’d lost her hair. Vain and prideful. What was hair anyway? None of her kids worried about not having it. Why had she?
Julio was at the doorway to the head now, easily gripping the jamb above him, his gorgeous, sinewy arms raised and a quiet smile on his lips. His shoulders filled that doorway, his muscular thighs, too. A tattoo covered his right pec. Lots of words she couldn’t read from the bed.
“What’s your ink say?”
A pinch quirked his lips. “Ave Maria.”
She cocked her head. “It’s a prayer? Come here. I want to see it. The lettering is beautiful.”
Lowering his arms, Julio walked to her, his body loose and his hips rolling.
Meg lifted to her knees at the edge of the bed, melting with every sensual step he took. Finally close enough, she read the prayer out loud. Hail Mary had been inked in large baroque lettering, in English, the other words in much smaller script. But so damned beautiful, her eyes watered reading it. Two stars to the left of his right nipple completed the overwhelmingly beautiful artwork. Amen was scrolled beside them, finishing the prayer.
By then, she couldn’t hold back any longer. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to the warm skin at the centerline between his muscular pecs and ran her tongue up to the hollow of his neck. Tasting the salty side of him. Worshipping him.
It was then her fingers skated over the bandage on his arm. She’d almost forgotten. Not once had he drawn attention to his wounds. He should have. Dropping back on her legs, she tugged the bedsheet up and covered her chest. “We should’ve been more careful. You’ve been shot. Twice. You’re still healing.”
His arms dropped and his handsome smile deepened. “I like that you care about me, Meg, but trust me. I’ve been hurt worse. These scratches are nothing.”
“Prove it. Show me your scars, and I’ll show you mine.”
He raked her with a smoldering once over. “I’d rather you show me something else.”
A full-on body wiggle shivered up Meg’s spine at his words. Julio was not a small man in any way. He almost looked intimidating. But not to Meg. To her, he was her male, and she was his female. Together, they were unstoppable.
Tossing the bedsheet aside, she eased off the bed to her feet, her nakedness on display for the man she’d known less than a week. Not even four full days. If he wanted to look, she wanted him to see every last bit of her.
His gaze never left her face.
She took a step into him, her eyes locked on his, but wondering what a competent, capable undercover operator like Julio saw in a downhome country girl with a limp and a saggy face. True, the facial features on her left side were at their worst when she was tired, and when she’d overdone it. The remaining paralysis made her look as if she were always scowling.
Yet Julio didn’t seem to see it. That was adoration shining on his proud face. Couldn’t be love. You had to know someone a long time before you fell in love. Didn’t you?
With one more step, Meg was in Julio’s arms, and he was in hers. Breathlessly, she leaned her head under his chin against his chest. She let her fingers roam over the smooth muscles on his back, then down the taut ridges of his ribcage under his arm. Then up again over his chest and through those few crisp, black hairs dusting his pecs. Her index finger lingered on the flattened disc of his nipple beside the tattooed stars, gently strumming while her body turned liquid.
Sex between a man and a woman was a dance of total opposites. His body had been created to be hard and unbreakable, yet hers was made to be soft and to bend to his. To accept the magnificent steel rod pressed hot and ready to her belly. To bear his babies.
The thought of making a baby with Julio stole whatever common sense Meg had come into this dance with. She didn’t want this feeling with Julio to be a one-time fling. She just wasn’t made that way. The words whispered out of her even as she rubbed her nose against his neck. Man, he smelled good. “I think I’m falling in love with you, Agent Juarez.”
He captured her chin in one hand and forced her to look up at him. “And that makes you cry?”
Meg shook her head. “No. It’s not like that, but I gave my heart away too soon last time, and I’m afraid I’m doing it again, and stupid people who keep making the same mistakes over and over again are insane, and I’m not an easy lay, and another thing—”
He dipped his head and covered her mouth, swallowing the rest of what was working up to be a much longer run-on sentence. His tongue swept the last of her doubt away. This was possession, clear and simple. The muscles in Julio’s arms bulged under her touch as he ended the kiss. Without any effort, he lifted her off the floor and against him. Laying her gently back on the bed, he stuck one knee into the mattress at her side and leaned that magnificently muscled body over her.
Threading her fingers over his scalp, Meg absorbed the fierce kiss, her tongue tangling with his in the frantic slip and slide of passion. One minute she’d been feeling sorry for herself—again—but now she couldn’t give her body over to his exquisite lovemaking fast enough. There was so much of him to love. To lick and kiss and—
God, I do love this man,she thought.It’ll destroy me if he leaves, too. I’ll die, I know I will.
That didn’t stop her hands from mapping down his muscular body to his hips, then around his back to his ass. With a taut, fit cheek in each palm, she bucked against his hips, inviting Julio inside. Needing all the raw masculinity overwhelming her with every guttural grunt and groan.
