He whispered something in her ear about wanting to taste her. When he took her earlobe between his teeth and flicked his tongue over it, petting her slippery bead at the same time, she flew over the edge. She came with a sharp cry, her legs buckling from the intense pleasure.
He didn’t take his hand out of her pants until she opened her eyes. Then he kissed her flushed cheek and removed his fingers, shiny with her arousal.
Instead of wiping them on his pants, he sucked the moisture away.
She watched him with an embarrassed sort of satisfaction. He was very good with his hands. She imagined he’d be even better with his mouth. She liked his hard face, his mustache stubble, his rough-soft voice, his California accent. She liked the way he kissed, and the dirty things he said.
He glanced around again to make sure they were alone. It occurred to her that she should cover herself, but she didn’t move. Her eyes traveled down his torso, to the straining erection at the front of his pants. She liked that too. She’d enjoyed wrapping her fingers around him and stroking him to completion. She wanted to do it again.
“?Quieres…?” she asked, lifting her gaze to his.
“No,” he said shortly. With a wince, he lowered himself to a sitting position, resting his shoulders against the concrete wall. His erection didn’t flag. He was uncomfortable, and unwilling to accept her help.
Damn him.
He’d done that on purpose. He’d given her pleasure and refused to take his own.
She fixed her clothing and sat down beside him, mind reeling from the encounter. She felt selfish and wanton for begging him to finish her. Something else was bothering her too. Her body was still inflamed, as if one release wasn’t enough. She shifted her legs, restless.
“You need to get fucked,” he said, not looking at her.
Her cheeks heated at this crude suggestion, though she suspected he was right.
“Foreplay is fun, but nothing beats a good pounding.”
She imagined his finger being replaced by his thick erection and smothered a moan. It would be fuller, heavier, more intense. More satisfying for them both. She was intimidated and intrigued at the same time. “I would like to try this…pounding.”
A muscle in his jaw flexed. “What we just did doesn’t change anything. You’re going home, where you belong.”
She bit back an angry retort. He was a stubborn, overbearing burro. She saw right through him. He wasn’t protecting her. He was protecting himself by pushing her away. He couldn’t handle another emotional goodbye.
Fair enough. Neither could she.
“I don’t belong at home,” she said. “I belong with you.”
“Not right now, you don’t.”
“Then when?”
He gave her a measured stare, not responding. He didn’t have to. She read the answer on his face. They were in an impossible situation. She was a Mexican citizen who’d gotten mixed up in a drug cartel scandal. He was an American federal agent looking to salvage his career. This was not a match made in heaven. It was a wildfire raging out of control.
She was too proud to beg, now that her arousal had abated. She didn’t want to cause him any more trouble. Her fantasies of being his girlfriend went up in smoke. They weren’t going to find Sarai together, or live happily ever after. It was time to go their separate ways.
He fished a few dollars out of his pocket. “Will you do me a favor?”
“What?”
“I need something else to wear. Another shirt, and a hat, if you can find one.”
There was a man at the edge of the cargo station with a shopping cart full of used clothes. She took Ian’s money and walked that direction. She rifled through the cart, selecting a flannel shirt and a black baseball cap. The label on the front said RAIDERS. She paid three dollars for the items and returned to the wall Ian was standing behind.
“How’s this?”
“Fine,” he said, removing his torn shirt. Underneath it, he wore a gray ribbed tank that clung to his chest. He put on a shoulder holster from his backpack, complete with a deadly looking revolver. It served as a chilling reminder of his purpose here. It also made for a dangerously sexy accessory, framing his well-muscled arm. Their eyes met as he checked the weapon and secured it. Then he tried on the plaid flannel shirt she’d bought. There were several buttons missing. He fastened it at the neck and donned the black cap.
He looked ridiculous, like a wannabe cholo. But it would be an effective disguise from a distance.
“Good luck,” she said.
“Thank you.”
She didn’t promise to call him this time, or try to kiss him goodbye. She just held her head high and turned to walk away. It was the challenge of a lifetime to keep moving forward and not look back. The train’s engine started, spurring the passengers into action. They began to climb aboard every available railcar. Maria was so numb and distraught that she almost stumbled into the path of two men in black uniforms at the edge of the cargo station.
La placa. Federal police.
They probably weren’t looking for her, but she whirled around and headed the other direction, her heart racing. There was nowhere to hide except among the passengers. She fell into step with a group of young men who were walking toward the tracks.
She stayed with them, because there was safety in numbers. The police presence had caused a panic in the crowd. When she reached the railcars, she shot a glance over her shoulder. The officers had stopped to watch the passengers climb aboard.
?Mierda!
One of the young men next to her nudged his friend. “Should we wait to get on?”
“No way,” his friend replied. “That will only attract more attention.”
They started up the ladder.
Maria didn’t know what else to do, so she climbed to the top with them. Her instincts warned her to avoid the police. They might be searching for Sarai. They might be searching for Ian. He’d scuffled with someone earlier, and donned a disguise for a reason.