Chapter Six
Wyatt walked to the end of the River Walk and out into the streets of downtown San Antonio with no direction in mind, just the need to move and keep moving. He felt as if he stopped, his demons would catch up to him and take him down, and he couldn’t give in.
Every loud noise made him jumpy and jittery. The more he reacted, the more sensitive he became to noises, hearing even the slightest sounds like he had when he’d been working his way door-to-door in a poor Somali village, searching for the rogue warriors. When he couldn’t take it any longer, he slipped into a seedy bar and ordered a whiskey.
One drink would take the edge off. If he let himself, he could drown himself to the point he no longer felt the pain. Alcohol also allowed him to fall into a drunken stupor and sleep until morning without the horrific nightmares that plagued him every time he closed his eyes.
A redhead with brilliant green eyes kept him from going down the slick path of alcoholic oblivion. She had a plan and he’d by God better toe the line. Showing up for work drunk or hung over was never a good idea when terrorists had already threatened. Thirty minutes, maybe an hour had passed. He wasn’t sure. He would have liked to say he didn’t care as he stared into the glass of amber liquid he had yet to touch.
Those damned green eyes haunted him and he could almost imagine the disappointment in them if he didn’t take the job seriously and show up for work. His troubles were insignificant. People’s lives depended on him being one step ahead of terrorists. Like in Somalia. Only he hadn’t been far enough ahead to keep his friend from dying. Maybe, just maybe, he could make a difference this time. But not numbed by alcohol.
He pushed the untouched glass away, slapped a twenty on the counter and left the bar. At a slow jog, he took only fifteen minutes to find his way back to the hotel, ignoring the ache in his knee. He wouldn’t forgive himself if something happened while he was away feeling sorry for himself.
Wyatt entered the lobby, his strides eating up the distance between him and the elevator. He hit the sublevel that led to the parking garage and the security office with the camera monitors. After checking with the security guard on duty and giving him his cell phone number, Wyatt returned to the elevator, his heartbeat quickening as the car lifted to the floor with the room he’d share with Fiona.
Fingering the keycard in his pocket, he wondered if she’d managed to convince the concierge to change the lock code on the door to make his key card obsolete. He half expected the lock indicator light to blink red when he slid his card in the reader.
Ready to turn and walk away, he was surprised to see the light blink green. He gripped the handle and pushed the door, once again expecting the chain to block his entry.
When the door swung open, he stepped into the darkened room and nearly ran into the rollaway someone must have set up in his absence. Neatly made up with sheets, a blanket and pillow, it stood as far away as it could possibly get from the bed where Fiona would be sleeping. The only light shining from the base of the bathroom door barely provided enough light for Wyatt to locate the king-sized bed. The whir of a blow dryer came to an abrupt stop.
Wyatt let the door close behind him. He eased his way around the cot, shedding his shirt and shoes.
The light in the bathroom blinked out, plunging him into complete darkness, the heavy, light-smothering curtains across the window disallowing any streetlight to penetrate the room.
The soft sound of a metal doorknob twisting and the barely discernible creak of hinges let him know Fiona was done in the bathroom and headed for the king-sized bed.
A soft thump was followed by a muttered curse. “Damn.”
Wyatt inched forward, concerned she’d hurt herself, but afraid he’d run into her if he hurried.
He hadn’t gone far when, the light from the bathroom flickered on and Fiona was silhouetted, wearing a short, baby-doll nightgown, the shape of her body clearly visible through the diaphanous fabric.
Standing only inches from her, Wyatt’s pulse quickened. He could barely see the expression on her face, but her quick indrawn breath let him know she’d seen him.
“Oh,” she said, pressing a hand to the gentle swell of her breasts. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I’m not surprised.”
She glanced up at him, the light shining off the side of her face, giving it a sexy glow. “I’m done in the bathroom. It’s all yours.”
“Thank you.” He didn’t move out of her way. His body warring with his mind. He’d assured her she had nothing to fear from him. That he’d be the perfect gentleman sharing a room with her. But all those promises seemed to fly out the window with her luscious body so close to his, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession, her scent wafting around him like an invitation.
She swiped her tongue across her lips, drawing Wyatt’s attention to their full, plump dampness. As much as he didn’t trust himself and as much as he didn’t want to get involved, he was afraid it was too late. He gripped her arms and stared down into her eyes. “I didn’t come here to start something,” his voice edged with desperate anger.
“Then don’t,” she whispered. “No one’s making you.” She said one thing, her body contradicting her words when she swayed toward him.
“I made a promise,” he reminded her.
“I wouldn’t want you to break any promises.” Fiona’s gaze shifted to his naked chest, her hands rising to rest on the muscles. Instead of pushing him away, her fingers curled ever so slightly, her nails grazing his skin. “Then again, sometimes promises are made to be broken.”
He dragged in a breath, but the air didn’t seem to fill his lungs. Finally, he gave in to his baser desires and bent to claim her lips in a fierce kiss.
Rather than shy away in alarm by his actions, Fiona raised her arms, entwining her hands at the back of his neck, dragging him closer, her barely clad breasts pressing against his naked skin. The nipples puckered into hard little tips grazing him, making him want to rip the gown over her head.
He broke the kiss, trailing his lips over her cheek, down her chin, following the long line of her neck to where it crooked at her shoulder.
She let her head fall back, exposing more skin to his lips and tongue. “Why can’t I stop? You’re like an addiction.” She moaned. “The more I have, the more I want.”
Her words ignited a flame so bright it burned through him in seconds, consuming him. He slid his hands down her back and cupped the backs of her thighs, lifting her in his arms and wrapping her legs around his waist. He spun toward the bed and eased her down onto the crisp clean sheets, bending over her, his mouth poised above hers. When she reached out to pull him down on her, he held back, grasping her wrists in his bigger hands, pinning them to the mattress above her head. “You need to know.”
“What?” she said, her body writhing beneath his. “That I’m on fire? That I want you?”
His groin tightened, blood flowing south, engorging his cock, making his jeans so tight he might explode. “You need to know I’m not staying. What we’re about to do means nothing. I’m no good at relationships. Don’t expect me to behave any differently tomorrow. It’ll be back to business as usual.”
For a moment hurt flashed in her eyes and she lay still, not struggling against his grip on her wrists. Then her lips quirked up on the corner. “Okay, soldier. I’m more than good with that. And I’m glad you clarified, because I don’t have time for a clingy man.” She arched her back, pressing her breasts against his chest, the smile spreading across her face. “Now, are you going to fuck me, or am I going to have to break out my vibrator?”