“I’m sorry about the maiden aunt remark,” she says as I rub the mud on her exposed skin.
I shrug. The less I say to her the better. Every time she’s kind, she makes me think of things that I can’t have.
My sole mission right now is to get us out of the jungle and return the information to the U.S. so I can get Davidson and go back to my island.
I should have told her I was a monk when she suggested it, but my dick was too inflated to let me think rationally.
“I didn’t mean it as an insult.”
“It’s fine,” I grunt. “We’ve got supplies to look for.” I hand her the health bar. “Eat this.”
“But I ate the other one,” she protests.
“Eat the damn bar, Ava.”
Her hurt morphs into anger, but she grabs the bar from me because she can clearly read my intent. Eat the bar or else.
As she eats, I gulp down water, leaving her about a quarter of it.
Her deliberate bites and overobvious chewing end with a very fake smile. “There, happy?”
“No,” I respond gruffly and hand her the water bottle. She makes a show of wiping the opening before lifting her mouth to it.
I have to look away because everything about her mouth is sexual now. Everything. Even when she is glaring and her lips are pursed in an unhappy expression. That face just makes me want to kiss her until she’s slack with lust.
“Let’s go.” I don’t wait for her to agree but just turn east. I pull out my knife, attach it to the buckle, and wrap the whole thing around my palm. Over by a small clearing, I spot two good broken bamboo branches to use as a walking sticks. I hand one to Ava, which she accepts with narrowed eyes, and keep the other for myself.
“Why are you so angry? I thought orgasms made men happy. Is it the V thing? Because I don’t really care about that.”
I turn to her and she steps back when she sees the fire in my eyes. She has no idea how hot it burns, how long it has been banked, and how it could consume us both.
“I’m angry because now I want to fuck you.”
“And you think I’m going to protest?” She threw her hand back toward the matted grass where I came in my pants while I fingered her. “I was totally with you. I came hard with just your fingers. It was great. Really great.” Those last words sound a bit confused, as if she’s surprised at how much pleasure it brought her.
Let her be confused. Let her want. Better than the alternative.
I turn and storm off into the jungle instead of responding to her.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
AVA
Well, that escalated quickly.
Here I wanted to see a little dick, get everything out in the open, and the next thing I know, Rafe and I are tongue-fucking and he’s fingering me until I come. And while it’s crazy good, and the release is wonderful and just what I needed to ease some of the tension in my body . . . I still haven’t seen his dick.
He’s a virgin. That explains a lot, and it also adds a hell of a lot more questions. The virginity explains why he gets weird when I mention his dick. It explains why he stiffens up when I touch him. It explains why he sucks at playing a game about secrets.
It doesn’t explain why a man as sexy as he is hasn’t had sex before. I mean, Jesus. The man has a mouth that makes me wet just looking at it. He’s got scars on his chest, but I’m like most girls in that I find scars more sexy than frightening. He’s got a tight body that ripples with muscles, and combined with that big package? As long as it’s not too big, I’m down with some straight-up nasty Amazon sex.
But . . . he’s a virgin.
I admit this has me a bit stymied. There has to be a reason behind it. I ponder this as we trek through the jungle, slapping more mud on our bare skin when the rain washes it away. He’s silent as we walk, the only sound the movement of leaves, the wildlife around us, and our walking sticks smacking into the earth. I don’t know if he’s pissy because he fingerbanged me or if he’s pleased about it. He’s not speaking to me at all.
It makes the jungle trek shittier than usual. Combined with the bugs and the mud and the rain that constantly seems to be pissing on us? I’m more convinced than ever that I’m never leaving the city again.
I’m lost in my dire thoughts when Mendoza stops abruptly in front of me. I pause just before I run into his back. I know from my experience earlier that he’s not a fan of that. “What is it?”
“I see something up ahead,” he says, voice low.
I drop my own voice, too, worried. “More wreckage?” Dear God, I hope not.
“Stay here,” he says, not answering me. He pushes ahead and disappears between a pair of bushy ferns.
Stay here? I look around. There’s nothing that differentiates this part of the jungle from any other part of the jungle, and I hear Mendoza’s footsteps moving farther and farther away. Screw this. I’m not getting left behind. I push ahead after him. I’ve already seen one dead body. More won’t gross me out too much. Hopefully.