The Witness (Miami Private Security #4)

22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Sabrina

A fter I’d played my part in tonight’s events, I’d come upstairs, stripped, and taken a scalding hot shower. The pounding water eased my tense muscles and washed away the remains of my stress sweat. I wrapped up in the oversized hotel bathrobe, grabbed a beer from the mini-fridge, and flopped on the couch, totally comatose.

I’d been out of the shower for over an hour. Long enough that my short hair was dry and I had started to worry. What the hell was taking them so long?

My nerves ate a hole in my stomach, and the knots in my shoulders and neck had returned with a vengeance. On the TV, an episode of the 1990s show Friends dubbed in Spanish played quietly. A million worst-case scenarios ran through my head. Most ended with me and Michael trapped in Cuba forever or worse.

The doorknob rattled, and I bolted up from the couch, abandoning half a lukewarm beer on the coffee table. My heart lurched, an uncomfortable mix of excitement, relief, and anxiety flooding my body. I paused, trying to untangle the mess. I was still trying to process all my emotions when Michael pushed inside.

“You’re okay?” The fear for his safety that I’d been diligently ignoring washed over me and slowly receded. He was fine, all in one piece, and standing there in front of me. My knees went weak with relief. Thank God.

“Of course.” He gripped my upper arms in his hands and squeezed reassuringly.

I collapsed into his broad chest and he enfolded me in his arms. Safe in his arms was where I’d wanted to be since the moment I saw Sandoval. I breathed in his scent, a mix of starched laundry and the coconut-scented hotel soap.

“What took so long? I was about to come looking for you.” I nuzzled into him, my ear pressed to his chest. The steady beat of his heart coaxed my own to slow its pounding rhythm. I soaked up his reassuring presence like I was a sponge.

“The meeting with Sandoval went as expected.” He tightened his grip on me, squeezing me closer like if he could he’d pull me inside himself.

I imagined being sheltered within his rib cage, shielded from danger, safe from everything. It was a tempting metaphor. I’d cling to the image to make it through the next day. I needed him. Soon everything would be back to normal, and I would be capable of running my life, but until then, he was my shelter.

“But?” I lifted my head to look at him. A new worry line creased his forehead. I reached up to cup his tense jaw and stroked my thumb over his five o’clock shadow.

“Sandoval wants to meet on his boat.” He took half a step back, putting space between us.

“Huh.” I considered the change in venue from the PNR’s carefully chosen location to the boat. It would be like coming full circle to bring him down on the Jabberwocky where I’d failed Gabriela Cantoral. It seemed like karma. “I know the boat pretty well. I can help with the layout. Where is it docked?”

“Here in the marina. What has us worried is if he wants to leave port and how public the docks here at the hotel are. The PNR will not be in control of the situation. It’s much more risky to taunt him into—” Michael ran a hand over his face uncomfortable even saying the words. I took pity and did it for him.

“Trying to kill me.” I was proud of how calm the words sounded. I instantly understood how much added danger there was by meeting on the boat—in Sandoval’s domain.

“Yeah. The PNR can’t arrest him for a threat. You and I will be the only ones on the boat not on Sandoval’s payroll. It’s a big risk.”

“Will the microphones and surveillance stuff that the PNR offered still work?”

“Yes. The Cubans may have gasoline shortages and 1950s cars, but their spy craft is cutting edge tech, so at least we have that going for us. And Acosta promised he’d bring extra men so they can overwhelm Sandoval’s goons when it’s time.”

Michael wasn’t trying to sell me on the adjusted plan. He’d laid out the details without a hint of optimism. It was that time between when we taunted Sandoval into action and the arrival of the PNR agents that had Michael and me worried. At the distillery, we would have been in charge of the playing field. On the Jabberwocky… not so much.

“And what’s the alternative? If I don’t get on that boat tomorrow.”

He let go of me and walked to the minibar. He pulled out a beer for himself and popped it open on the edge of the art déco desk.

After a long pull off the bottle, he looked at me with an indecipherable expression. “If we don’t show, I’ll have burned up any currency I had with Sandoval. We will be back at square one and Sandoval will know you are in Cuba. It’s grim. We’d need to run.”

“Run where?” I sat down on the couch with a thump.

“Far. We’d need to get you a new identity. And I’d have to help you set up a new life somewhere. Maybe Asia.” He stood looking down at me, every line of his face contorted in sympathy. I hated it.

“Asia. No. I’m not running. What’s the value of being alive if I have to give up my dreams?” I shook my head as I spoke, the fire of determination burning bright. No fucking way. I promised Hailey.

“But you’d be alive?”

“Would I?” I raised one eyebrow and gave him a sad, twisted smile.

My question hung in the air. He searched my face, looking for a hole in my determination, a weakness he could use to change my mind. He wanted to protect me; I wanted that too. Only I wanted him to do it while we slayed the dragon, not while we ran away.

“Shit.” He chunked his beer down on the table and dragged me up from the couch. “I can’t believe you are going to do this.”

I couldn’t tell if he wanted to try to shake some sense into me or kiss me.

“You’ll keep me safe. I know it.”

His groan was half surrender and half plea.

I sealed my mouth over his, stopping him from saying more. And stopping myself from entertaining the doubts filling the dark corners of my mind. Our lips crashed together. He opened, sucking my tongue into his mouth. His hands seemed to be everywhere, sliding under my robe. Holding my ass. Trailing up my back.

What I needed more than a hot shower or a cold beer after coming face to face with Sandoval was him fucking me until I forgot. Nothing like an orgasm to bolster your failing resolve.

Later, we’d hash out the details for tomorrow. Go over plans and contingencies.

He lifted me into his arms. I wrapped my legs around him, and the fabric of his suit rubbed against my bare skin. Our lips stayed locked together as he walked the few strides into the dimly lit bedroom. The kiss went from hard and demanding to teasing.

I’d learned that Michael liked it slow as much as he liked it fast. The man was an unpredictable and skilled lover. Last night and most of this morning he’d been on a mission to find my every erogenous zone and take each one for a test drive. It was a spectacular ride.

The slow slide down his chest awakened my flesh. My nipples tingled as they rubbed over the starched cotton of his shirt. My core clenched, abraded by the gray wool of his suit. I grabbed handfuls of his shirt to keep my balance when my feet finally touched the ground.

“Turn around, Siren.” He nipped my earlobe as he spun me to face the bed, stripping off my robe as he maneuvered me into place.

I bent at the waist, elbows locked, hands buried in the bedding. He ran a single finger down my back, from the nape of my neck to the small of my back. Goosebumps bloomed in the wake of his touch. He massaged the fullness of my ass and rumbled his appreciation.

He shifted, pulling my hips back until my ass settled against him. The cold metal of his belt buckle grazed one cheek, and I sucked in a shocked breath. He chuckled in my ear.

“Cold?” he asked.

“Yes. No.”

“Which one?” His hands pulled me up until I stood straight, plastered against him.

The heat of his body soaked through his clothes into my back. Cool air conditioning brushed over my front. The contrast made me obscenely aware of being naked. I shifted, grinding my ass against him as he cupped my breasts, his calloused thumbs rubbing agonizingly delicious circles over my nipples.

“These are nice and hard. Makes me think you're chilly.” He spoke in low sexy tones that made the fine hair on my arms stand on end.

I arched into him, my head back, giving him access to suck on my neck. I all but purred. His mouth and hands worked in tandem to raise my temperature near boiling.

“I’m definitely hot,” I murmured.

“Humm, let’s make sure.” One of his wicked hands slipped down between my thighs, spreading me open and cradling my center. “Fuck, that is scorching.”

He found my clit and began to rub and stroke. Occasionally, a long finger slipped inside me. I rode his hand shamelessly. The caress offered the oblivion I sought. His hard length, still trapped inside his pants, throbbed between us.

I shifted on my bare feet. My toes scraped against his dress shoes. Reaching behind me, I cupped his neck, my short nails digging hard into his skin. Oblivion beckoned. I whimpered and closed my eyes. Fireworks flashed behind my lids and my whole body pulled tight, then exploded.

I slumped into his chest, his hands and my shaking knees holding me upright.

“Michael.” I sighed his name slowly, dragging it out in four or five syllables.

“Feel better?” The slight scratch of his five o’clock shadow grazed my cheek.

“Oh, so much better.” I turned in his arms to face him.

I worked each button free, unwrapping the suit like he was the best Christmas present in the history of the world. Next, I shoved off his jacket and tossed it carelessly over a chair. Opening his white cotton shirt revealed the colorful art that scrolled over his rippling muscles. I ran my hands up to his shoulder, following the trail of a beautifully drawn vine, and dislodged the shirt. It puddled on the ground, forgotten.

I knelt down to slip off his shoes and socks. I worked slowly, glancing up to gauge his reaction. His eyes were wide, greedy to record every detail.

I attempted to encircle his ankles with my fingers and failed. Then I traced the long bones on the top of his feet. Michael was big everywhere; even the parts that should be delicate were thick and stout.

I caressed the arch of his foot and looked up at him, a playful smile on my lips. “Ticklish?”

He bit back a chuckle and nodded.

Who’d have thought a man so powerful would be ticklish? I captured the intimate detail and held it close. I treasured knowing his secret.

I sat on my heels and reached for his waist. His belt unbuckled, I went to work on the buttons and hooks of his pants, making sure I grazed his erection… repeatedly. I unzipped his pants as slowly as possible, dragging my fingers of my other hand up and down his length.

He cursed and his hips thrust forward. Our eyes met.

Oh Shit . Play time was over.

In the space of a single breath, he pulled me up from the ground and tossed me onto the bed. He shed his pants and briefs and hooked my legs over his shoulders. It was like being tackled by a lion. The white of his eyes and teeth glinted in the low light of the room, reinforcing how much he looked like a predator.

“Fuck, I’m so ready for you.” He lined up and eased inside me in a steady push until he’d seated himself to the hilt.

The angle made every inch feel monumental. I arched up to accept him, my body rippling around his invading length. I grabbed fistfuls of the sheets and held on for what came next.

He moved, thrusting into me like a jackhammer. I screamed loud enough to star in a bad porn movie, only I wasn’t acting. I was coming unglued. Cleaved apart with pleasure. I tore at the bedclothes and tossed my head from side to side. The pleasure was on the edge of too much, but at the same time it was undeniable perfection.

He didn’t slow down screwing me into the bed with the weight of his whole body. I’d feel echoes of this in the morning.

“More. Harder.” I gasped.

He did not disappoint.

The bed rattled against the wall. My last coherent thought was to wonder what would happen if we broke the frame. I didn’t really care. Not when ten thousand volts of electricity were racing from my clit to the top of my head and back.

I was burning up. On fire. Each stroke added to the conflagration. Michael leaned down and took my mouth in a fast hard kiss. He followed me into the inferno, ripping our mouths apart to utter his own guttural cry.

Time stopped as the flames of our orgasms slowly flickered out

It may have only been for a few seconds, but it felt far longer. Our panting drowned out the TV in the other room, the hum of the air conditioner, and anything not inside our bubble of afterglow.

I closed my eyes and tried to imprint this feeling of boneless surrender on the fibers of my being. The way the bed seemed to lift me up while Michael’s weight pressed me down. Held firmly in a cradle of euphoria, the ultimate in relaxation.

He nuzzled my cheek and rolled to lie on his side. “I hate to ruin this, but…”

“Then don’t.” I turned to face him.

“Damn, you are a siren, an inescapable distraction.” With a resigned sigh, he tangled his hand in my hair and kissed me until I was breathless. “We need to plan for tomorrow. There are a million things to do. Gunter will want your floor plan of the boat asap. And we should eat something.”

“Ugh.”

I cuddled into his arms and wished the embrace would last for days. I’d have loved to start all over, return us to the fevered haze of passion. But playing the sexy ostrich with her head in the sand wasn’t smart.

In an impressive show of responsibility, I wiggled free of his arms. The doubts I’d tried to ignore flooded back to the forefront as the haze of sex and satisfaction cleared.

“Is this going to be a problem? A distraction?” I sat on the edge of the bed and turned to look down at him. “Shit. Will this get you fired? If people find out.”

I should have thought of all this before. The sex has been outrageously good, but if it might mess with his concentration or ruin his career, then we shouldn’t have indulged. I like a big O as much as the next lady, but I’m not trading my life for one or a dozen.

“I won’t get fired. Or distracted. I’d say it will work the opposite way. Raise a primal instinct to protect my mate.” He pushed me back into the pillows with a roar and playfully bit my neck, then licked up the side of my cheek.

“Gross.” Oh, hell no. Time to use my insider knowledge. I curled my fingers into claws and dug into his ribs.

“Sabrina… No. Not fair.” My lion squealed like a stuck pig.

I doubled down, laughing as I tickled him. The moment of play was another welcome distraction from the shit storm coming my way tomorrow. Too bad it was only temporary.