“You done?” I ask Garcia, impatient to be alone with Ava.
She smells good. Our bellies were full of bush meat, beans, and fruit. Ava ate a roadside Popsicle made of fruit and sugar and cream so enthusiastically, I thought I’d come in my pants just watching her. Even Garcia had a glazed look in his eyes.
“Patience, hermano.” He is working slow, and I don’t think it’s because the wounds are dirty but because he is trying to delay the inevitable—Ava and I alone.
But he needs to leave.
She’s not holding my hand anymore. She’s stroking it. Her one hand is cradling mine and with her other hand, the one with the swollen pinky, she traces the veins on the back of my hand and rubs a fingertip across each knuckle. I didn’t know a touch like that could feel so erotic. It’s a good thing I’m lying on my stomach, because my dick is driving a hole into the mattress.
“I need more bandages. They’re in the sack in the outer room.” Garcia points to the open doorway.
Ava squeezes my hand and hops up to do his bidding. I watch her curvy ass swing out the door and sigh like a schoolboy. Garcia doesn’t waste time.
“She needs to go,” he repeats. “The buy is going to take place any day now and we can’t have you distracted.”
I don’t take my eyes off the vacated doorway, because soon Ava will return and I’ll get to watch her as she approaches. She’s showered and her skin looks edible. I want to lick it and see if it tastes like cream or honey. Maybe it’s both. Her heavy tits sway under a borrowed T-shirt. Mine of course. I nearly wrestled Garcia to the ground when he threw one of his at her face, which is why he’s now trying to convince me to leave. He’ll stay here and guard the girl.
“Not happening,” I say. No one is sleeping near Ava except for me. No one is guarding her but me. I trust Garcia and the others, but tonight, it’s me and Ava.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
AVA
God, I’m so clean it’s orgasmic.
There are so many things now that we’re back in relative civilization that I’m never going to take for granted again. Things like soap and fresh water. Being outside and not having a hundred bugs land on you. Food that didn’t walk past you three minutes ago.
Actually, just food, full stop. I can’t seem to quit eating. Even now, I’m so full of camp food that I could barf, but when I dig through the sack for bandages, I see a few chocolate-flavored PowerBars and have to resist the urge to cram them in my mouth.
But Rafe’s friend hates me enough already.
I’ve seen him shooting unhappy looks in my direction all day. It doesn’t matter that I’m ragged and covered in bug bites on every inch of my skin. You’d think I’m the devil incarnate here to cause problems. I can guess why. Rafe’s changing his plans for me. Instead of “ditch Ava” it’s now “work with Ava.”
And while that wasn’t my original plan, I’m gleefully stoked that it’s the plan now. Dare I get the hot guy and save my best friend? Can this shitstorm turn into a best-case scenario?
One can only hope.
Even my swollen hand feels better. The pinky looks bad but I can bend it without too much pain, and the swelling is going down around my wrist, too. I grab the bandages and return to the bedroom area, where Rafe’s lying flat across the bed and his buddy Garcia works on him. They both look up as I enter, and I feel a bit self-conscious at my clothing. I’m wearing a T-shirt that’s a few sizes too big for me and a pair of cotton boxers, since that was all that they had to give me that was clean. My bra and panties are soaking in a sink full of soap, and someone’s promised to go get me “real” clothing in the morning.
Garcia frowns at me and shakes his head, moving over Rafe’s wounds again, but Rafe extends a hand for me, that intense look in his eyes that he saves only for me. I hand Garcia the bandages and sit back down in my chair next to the bed and take Rafe’s hand again.
I’ll be the first to admit I’m a little touchy-feely with my guy. He’s my anchor and the only thing that’s keeping me from panicking about the situation. He’s keeping my worry over Rose at bay. He’s keeping me distracted from the fact that his friend hates me and we’re still in a strange country with dangerous information and not a lot of friends. Because when his hand touches mine? Everything’s all right. I know Rafe’s got me.
I sit down in my chair again and cross my legs. They’re clean and freshly shaven, but welts, cuts, and bruises still cover them. It’s not a sexy look, but Rafe reaches out and drags his hand down one calf, a thoughtful, almost reverent look on his face as he touches me.
I shiver, desire sliding through me, just like that. My thighs press together and I shoot another look at Garcia. His lips are pressed together unhappily at the sight of Rafe touching me.
“You done?” he asks Garcia again, but his gaze is still on me. Always on me.