Into the Flames (Perilous Connections: Book Two) Page 4

  A small whimper, then another forces its way from between my lips which are pressed tight in a fruitless attempt to keep quiet. Before I know it I’m sliding down the bathroom wall as my knees give out. My entire body begins to quiver as the sobs surge forward, pressing painfully against the throbbing muscles in my throat. The pain is rising from some unknown place inside me and the impact of it mercilessly rattles the bones which are holding my body together and I can’t fight it. I let it take me.

  Nate

  Frantically I yank on the bathroom door expecting it to be locked but it swings open freely. I lock it behind me and then I see her in the glass just inches to my right. She is on the ground, her eyes squeezed closed but tears are streaming down her heart shaped face.

  I yank her into my arms. Her eyes fly open, rage pours forth from their depths and she begins to pummel me. No shock there. I think she likes to beat me.

  “Shush, shush,” I say because she is both thumping me and muttering words I cannot understand.

  She flings her head back, and her amber eyes, God help me, the golden color glitters and looks so molten, so iridescent I feel myself falling. My heart takes over and I swoop down reaching for her soft looking mouth newly moistened by tears.

  She tosses her head wildly. “Don’t put your filthy mouth on me,” she screeches, “you’re an asshole and I hate you!”

  I groan my blood roaring in my veins. “You told me that already,” I quip, not surprised in the least that my voice is husky and reeking of need. I had her barely five hours before but it has done nothing for me. It’s as if this is the first time I am touching her and I cannot make myself stop, even in the face of her loathing.

  I brush my lower body against hers and she feels it.

  She cries out. “Don’t touch me. You’re … a …. an animal.”

  I touch my forehead to hers. “Yes I am,” I confess roughly, “this animal wants you.”

  She utters some type of feminine squeal that if she had had any inkling of what it would do to that most demanding part of my anatomy, she would have kept her mouth shut.

  I slam my mouth down on hers and I wait for a split second for her to show her refusal by chomping off my lips, when nothing happens, I blink my eyes open and stare in wonder at her.

  Her eyes are closed, her fighting little fists are clenched at her side but her body is losing the tension, and the tears have stopped.

  All I hear is the thundering of her heart, matching mine.

  I forget about fear, forget about the fact that I shouldn’t be doing this to her of all people.

  I plow her mouth ravenously, tasting the soft, succulent depths. She whimpers and opens up beneath my onslaught. Her hand has found its way into my hair and her fingers are making impatient swipes through the dense folds.

  It is too much. I tempt her with repeated stabbings of my tongue, pillaging her innocent, hesitant response. Then she becomes bolder and opens her mouth wider and I am in there.

  Passion, sudden and mysterious sweeps through me. I have never wanted a woman this much. I am seized with the need to have all of her. The kiss becomes deeper and yet that is not enough. My hands races across her body, rolling her ripe breasts between my thumbs, drawing hot whimpers from her throat.

  I shove my hand up under her t-shirt, run my fingers impatiently down the silky smoothness of her girlish tummy, down further until they hit the small cluster of curls nestled between her slender thighs.

  She is moist. I growl savagely, my kiss becomes brutal. Her hands are thrown around my neck and I break her hold to tug her jeans and panties down her thighs and off her legs in one swoop. I tear at my own encumbrances and then I have her up, her legs wrap tightly around my waist. I lean back giving myself just enough room and then I slam into her. Catch her cry in my mouth.

  She is so hot, so unbelievably tight, that her curse on me comes true, and I become the animal she’d accused me of being only moments before. I rear back and surge forward, pressing her up against the wall, giving me maximum leverage. The pleasure is so much that I have to tear my mouth away from hers, allowing a hoarse cry to escape my throat at the power of it.

  I strive for some control, anything not to ravage her too completely, and I slow my pace fractionally, surging out and back with a little less brutality.

  Our bodies quiver together and I tremble as control begins to slip from me again. I force my eyes open and see that her eyes are squeezed tightly closed, and she is biting down on her plump bottom lip.

  Tenderness opens inside me. I reach for control I didn’t know I possessed and my body screams at me as I force it to slow down, then stop. I rest my forehead against hers, my breath coming like a racehorse. “Am I being too rough, do you want me to stop?” I rasp, my words barely human sounding.

  She doesn’t open her eyes but she shakes her head rapidly, her legs tighten about my waist, my hands do the same beneath the tight succulence of her buttocks. “Don’t stop. More … more.”

  It’s a cry, a command.

  I forget that mere hours before I had just deflowered her, that it’s too soon for such rough loving and my hips buck and ram into hers as I appease the roar that unleashes itself inside me again. My thrusts are frantic, hard and most of all deep. I cannot get enough of her. My mouth follows suit and I ravish her lips and her tongue.

  Her fingers are tearing through my hair, but I cannot sense, cannot feel anything but her warmth, listen to her whimpers, her cries of ecstasy which carries a trace of pain. I close my eyes and absorb it all, until I feel her arching wildly against me as her orgasm rushes upon her. Her body stiffens in my crushing embrace and then she cries out. I slam my eyes shut allowing her release to call forth my own, it races upon me like a ravening beast and I am taken over the cliff to smash to pieces beyond.

  Chapter Four

  Daphne

  I hold onto him because I must. I feel as if I’ll disintegrate into the tiniest atoms and float away if I don’t grip the iron hewn muscles in his shoulders which are anchoring my body to this world. My body hums with a vibration all of its own making and I am helpless to hasten its demise. So I just stand there and let it have its way inside me.

  But I am shattered. Oh God why have I done this a second time?

  Why have I let him make love to me once more? He has ravished, no, seduced my body so completely that even as my mind cringes at the enormity of this most recent mistake, I find myself still leaning into his bulk, my arms are still clasped tightly around his shoulders and I can feel the thundering of his heart reverberating in my body.

  He is righting my clothing. Slipping my underwear and pants back unto my legs and the fool that I am, I shiver. Even bruised and swollen and having experienced the sort of pleasure that I had assumed was only contained in the highly fictionalized pages of romance books filled with impossibly gorgeous heroes. But still I cannot stop my body from responding to his most mundane touch.

  I close my eyes to try and lessen the disaster zone that is my body. Perhaps if I don’t watch him it won’t be so bad. I won’t feel so exposed or needy.

  I squeeze my eyes closed. I gasp at the feel of his fingers skimming the unbearably sensitive flesh between my legs as he rights my underwear. I tense as he pauses there, there is a small groan from him, then finally, blessedly he moves on and within moments he is done fastening my jeans.

  Then he does the same to his own clothing.

  “Are you alright, sweeting?”

  Sweeting? Yet another nickname. He is chockfull of them. It would be funny if I could laugh but I cannot. All I want to do is weep and hide my face.

  I feel his hot breath on my face as he leans closer. I can still taste his mouth and, oh my traitorous mouth, my lips tremble for just one more kiss. One more feel of him. I swallow, force my lids open.

  Wrong mistake. He is so close. I can see where the grey and silver meet in his eyes and the shadow of his morning whiskers across those strong cheekbones and square chin.

  I s
earch his eyes and I swear that I see them softening as we stare mutely at one another.

  “Will you let me and my family go back home?”

  He straightens abruptly as if I’ve attacked him again, then he turns his head away from me towards the bathroom door.

  So now he’s concerned about privacy. I want to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it.

  Then he faces me again and a cold gust of air flushes the last traces of heat from my body. “No. You know that’s not possible right now.”

  My chin quivers with the bitter taste of the unjustness of him all over again. But this time it’s ten times worse. My eyes become slits. “You mean not until you’re finished using us to hide from Emmanuel, right?”

  He transforms before my eyes and I can almost see the hardness rising up, blocking off the semblance of humanity that our lovemaking had brought out in him.

  He mutters something beneath his breath, rakes a hand through his already tousled hair, courtesy of me, I blush. “Yes, not until then.”

  “And when will that be?” I demand harshly, my face is afire with all the emotions rioting, swirling inside my mind and body. “When you get us killed?”

  He slams a hand against the wall, making me jump. I quickly collect myself. I’ve got to know.

  “You cannot do this. You have no right,” I return.

  He offers me a wintery smile. “That’s where you’re wrong. I have every right. I’m your husband.”

  I groan at the use of that word that in any other situation could have had the potential to fill me with joy.

  But not now. Not with this man. As it is the hurt of his revelation is too much to bear. There is no place left inside me for it. “That’s why you married me isn’t it,” I bite out between clenched teeth, “to become a citizen, so you can hide out anywhere in the Caribbean like a coward from justice.”

  Before the final words have left my mouth he looms over me like an avenging spirit, an extremely pissed off spirit. His eyes are alight and burning in his face which is filled with such fury and torment, I blanch in fear. Calling him a coward was going too far, after all he had saved me from Emmanuel when he didn’t have to.

  But he doesn’t touch me. His hands hang clenched at his side, fists bunched until I can see the fat veins sticking out through the tanned flesh.

  His eyes have become like lightening. “The reason I am running will never be your concern. Do you understand?” he glares at me to reiterate his point, “and yes, I’m a coward but at this moment I’m afraid you’re stuck with a coward for a husband for as long as I see fit.”

  I bite my lips, trying to close off the feel of his words piercing into my flesh.

  “I can tell the immigration officers in Montserrat that you are a wanted man,” I fling up at him.

  Instead of going off into the rage which I had expected, I see something remarkable, resignation followed by pain which shifts in his eyes before he shrugs it away.

  “Yes, I suppose you can do that. I won’t stop you if that’s what you want. But keep in mind that in marrying you I have also become a Caribbean citizen and they can’t just toss me back onto a plane and send me home.”

  And that means that Emmanuel could still come after him or me.

  Blackness yawns at my feet but I cling to my instincts stubbornly. “You’re trying to hide from your past sins, which if Emmanuel is any indication must be horrible.”

  He doesn’t reply, merely stares at me with closed eyes, then he turns and takes the few steps to the door. He reaches for the handle, releases the lock, and then he turns and looks back at me still standing dumbfounded on the spot where we’d made love less than five minutes before. “You will go where I go and when I’m through with you, you’ll know.” He opens the door and leaves.

  I slump to the floor wincing as I hit the hard linoleum flooring.

  A heavy-set woman bursts into the bathroom moments later. She shoots me an allover examination that is made comical by the raging curiosity which her raccoon eye makeup intensifies.

  But she is in need and she scoots past me to go pee. She emerges swiftly and goes to the sink. Washing her hand she watches me avidly in the glass over the face basins. She gives a few yanks to her fire-engine weave that is tossed on her head like an overgrown fern. “Girl, I would have done the same thing.”

  I blink, dumbfounded. I can’t believe she has the effrontery to talk to me about what Nate and I had just done in the bathroom. Had she been listening at the bathroom door? The very thought makes me want to die on the spot but I don’t and a fierce blush is all that shows my extreme embarrassment. I close my mouth and prepare to leave but she is undaunted.

  She snatches her lip gloss from her purse, holds out a hand to me. “Oh no honey, don’t be offended. I ain’t trying to be nosy but if I had to do one of them,” she wiggles her body in her too-tight shirt and pants ensemble, her butt actually jiggles like a jello cake, “It would be him.” She fans herself dramatically and carries on. “Oh my, that dude is soooo fine, that hair, those eyes!” She ends her raptures with a climactic shiver.

  I am sorely tempted to laugh but restrain myself. I see that she’s noticed my dilemma because her eyes twinkle mischievously, a left brow rises impudently. There is mischief in her gaze but no maliciousness.

  I cannot find it in myself to be mad at her words though now I want a bath having realized that at least one person knows what was going on inside the bathroom.

  Sensing my lack of animosity, she goes on. “He’s a tourist right? Can you hook me up?”

  Despite everything I feel my lips stretch into a bittersweet smile. I shake my head. “No he isn’t a tourist,” I say with a twisted laugh, “he’s my husband.”

  Her brows hit the roof as she stares at me. “Then why you in here crying?” she asks.

  I was just about to leave, but I let my face relax against the bathroom door, “because I hate him and I am going to find a way to turn him into the police.”

  I ignore her shocked expression and slip through the door before she can ask me any more questions.

  I make my way slowly to the front, and simultaneously I search for Nate amongst the passengers. He has regained his previous spot but he is standing, and along with everybody else his back is facing me.

  Montserrat has just come into full view. I forget my troubles as I glance at the monstrous outgrowth that has become the Soufriere Hills Volcano. I have never visited the island before but I’ve seen images of it in the newspaper. Right where the volcano sits the greenery which covered its majestic slopes is gone and in its place is a cloak of grey ash, whose journey downhill can be traced by the lack of trees in its path. Plumes of smoke are rising from little vents all along the bulging veins of the mountain. Most chillingly is the mouth of the monster, half of which we can see from this far out to sea. It is gaping and wide and strangely empty of smoke. In stark contrast at the foot of the mountain juts out a green garden that stretches back through the island unbroken.

  Familiar little fingers grasp mine and I look down into Aubrey’s bright eyes. Elaine is hovering in the background, possibly still smarting from the remnants of our argument. “Isn’t it awesome Daphne?”

  I can’t help but smile. I would give anything to look at the hideous beast before us with wonder but I cannot. I feel reverence in its presence but it’s clouded by fear. It is too big, too dominant and possessing too much destructive force to arouse my admiration.

  “If you don’t behave yourself I may just have to cook you in it,” I tease.

  Aubrey’s smile widens. “Daphne, you know that we can’t go on its slopes. It’s forbidden now.”

  I wiggle my nose. “Who told you that?”

  He beams at knowing something I don’t. “Mrs. Holliday, my science teacher.”

  “Ah.”

  I feel my face start to burn and I know Nate’s watching me before I raise my head slowly and hold his eyes. There is no warmth in his face. We stare at each other until Elaine delibe
rately injects herself into my line of vision. She gives me a small smile. I don’t return it. Her face wobbles a bit but she holds onto it, “maybe you can get to know some of my relatives while we’re here,” she says hopefully.

  I tear my eyes away from Nate’s. Elaine has never even mentioned these people before and now she expects me to greet them with open arms. “I don’t think so.” I take off and reclaim my seat, leaving her standing with Aubrey. I avoid looking at her. I cannot deal with Elaine’s wounded feelings. I am being consumed by the thought that I have to find a way to get Nate Blackthorne out of my life, no matter what I feel for him.

  Nate

  People jostle for position all around me to get a glimpse of Montserrat which is slowly being turned into a desert by growing veins of lava which steadily pulses beneath its core. This has driven more and more people to the safe zone that has been established on the opposite side of the island.

  Aimee, the girl I’d been talking to before Daphne fled to the bathroom, saunters towards me. “Breathtaking sight isn’t it?” She smiles prettily, her head tilted in the direction of the island, but her eyes are fixed on me and they shine with purpose.

  I no longer have the stomach to pretend any interest in her but I chastise myself. She is exactly the type of woman that would’ve captured my attention two days ago. “It’s got a certain novel charm to it.”

  She chuckles as if I’ve said something sexually suggestive and I force myself not to move away from her and the reignited interest in her eyes.

  “You got that right. Mom and Dad have been dying to visit since we landed,” she breathes excitedly, “we want a sample of the volcanic ash and if possible,” she pauses the excitement building in her face, “we were thinking of getting past those dumb checkpoints and getting some pictures of the lava,” she finishes on a gasp of pleasure.