Red Zone (Red Zone 1)

“Please be real,” she whispered, her eyes still closed.

She felt the bed shift and warm, gentle lips press against hers in a soft, slow kiss. “That real enough for you?” His words were a breath against her mouth.

Her eyes drifted open, and she found herself staring into the comforting view of his mismatched gaze. “I thought my kidnappers had me and were taking me to the Northern Territory.” At her words, disjointed memories of being hauled out of the crashed car came flooding back. He’d come for her, just as he’d promised.

Perfect white teeth flashed against warm mocha skin. “You think those assholes would have made you this comfortable for the trip?”

He had a point. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Couple of hours. We’re eight hours from La Paz, ’cause we’re taking the circuitous route.” He stroked her hair off her cheek, taking his time to run the strands through his fingers.

She glanced at the clock beside the bed. “I only have thirty-two hours until my time runs out.”

“If you take away the eight hours flight time, and the three hours it will take to get to the clinic, that leaves you twenty-one long hours to hang out in Bolivia after you take the antidote. We got plenty of time. Don’t worry yourself none about the timing. But, if you want to put that big brain of yours to good use, you could come up with some ideas about what we should do with the eight hours we’re stuck on this jet? Any thoughts?”

His fingertip traced the shell of her ear. She felt his touch ricochet throughout her body. There was only one thing she wanted to do with her time, and she was staring at him, with a smile on her lips that only he could produce under such dire circumstances.

“How about we start researching your DNA?” she teased.

“That’s one option, for sure.” His lazy drawl was like warm honey on her skin.

He lay on his side, propped up on his elbow, and she could feel the heat of his body along the length of hers. Her eyes ate him up. His closely-shaven head, his stubble-roughened jaw, those mesmerizing eyes, and all that luscious bronze skin. His full lips quirked into a smile as her gaze scanned over them, down to his bare shoulders. She shivered at the sight of his muscles. Who knew shoulders could be that sexy?

“You like what you see.” He’d asked her that before, back in the bar when they’d first met. This time it wasn’t a question. It was the smug arrogance of a man who knew the effect he had on her. His fingertips traced her jaw to stroke down her throat. Everywhere he touched bubbled with sensitivity. Friday wondered if there were actual sparks flickering over her skin in the wake of his touch.

“Why are you naked?” She glanced down. “Why am I naked? And why does this keep happening to me? I lose consciousness around you and wake up naked.” She glanced around the room. “At least this time we don’t have an audience.”

His eyes were on hers as his fingers lightly traced her collarbone. “You stop getting injured, and you’ll stop waking up naked.” He frowned. “Scratch that. When you’re around me, you’ll always wake up naked. But I don’t like you getting injured, chère. This time you got banged up pretty bad when the car veered off the road.”

His words brought back the memory of being thrown about in the back of the car while the diamondback dealt with her captors.

“Your diamondback saved me.”

“When the talking handbag eventually wakes up, I’m gonna have a word with him ’bout that. I told him not to bite the damn driver. I told him the car would crash.” He let out a sigh, heavy with exasperation. “He told me to go to hell.”

She fought the urge to laugh. His words were at odds with his gentle touch. She felt decadent, lying there flat on her back with her arms at her sides, letting him touch her however he pleased. Letting him absently play with her as they talked. Her breathing became shallow, and her heart rate sped up. She wished his hands would roam some more. There were parts of her, intimate parts, that ached for his touch. She licked her lips. “To be fair. He didn’t bite the driver. The driver was shot in the head when your rattlesnake bit the guy with the gun.”

He let out a stream of creative curses, and she thought it best not to tell him she’d been directly between the gun and the driver’s head just before the shot went off. If she hadn’t thrown herself to the floor, she’d have taken that bullet. It appeared logistics and forward-thinking weren’t traits his diamondback possessed.

With bravery borne of desperation, she reached up and pushed the sheet from her body, watching as his eyes darkened at the move.

“Bébé? You’re injured. Maybe you should stay covered until you’re feelin’ better. A man can only resist so much temptation before he snaps.”

Trembling with need and nerves, she took his hand in hers and brazenly placed it over her breast. She gasped when their skin connected.

“I’m not that injured.” His hand flexed on her breast, and she fought back a moan. “I like how you touch me. It takes me away from everything in my head.”

“Bébé…” He sounded torn between his own need and worry for her.

“Please.” She bit her lip and waited for rejection, almost expecting it, because her life hadn’t taught her to expect anything else.

“You drive me crazy,” he said on a sigh. “I’ll touch, but we won’t go further. You’re bruised. You need to heal.”

“I need you more,” she whispered her confession.

His eyes blazed with emotion so intense, she needed time to figure out what it meant. He didn’t give her that time. His lips covered hers in a slow, sensual kiss that stole all thought from her mind.

Lazy fingers traced circles around her breast, making it feel swollen. Making it ache for a stronger touch. With each circle, he inched closer to her taut nipple. If nipples had emotions, hers would have felt desperate. It pointed upward as though trying to catch his attention.