I bit Brax’s collarbone and he groaned. He shifted so his rapidly hardening erection pressed into my belly.
Trembling, I eased his jeans down his hips. He arched upright, helping me get them off. Once he sprung free, he ripped off the fifty dollar knickers I’d worn for all of ten seconds, and threw them to the floor.
Brax settled between my thighs, gaze locking with mine. I bit my lip as he pressed inside. I wasn’t as wet as I should’ve been and the invasion was pleasure as well as pain.
His eyes snapped closed as he settled deep inside. His erection, stretching and filling, sent waves of safety rather than mind-shattering passion.
We rocked together, and he peppered me in delicate kisses, sweet affection. I grew slick around him, warming, building.
My ni**les ached for attention, and I wished he’d bite me just a little, maybe then I might be able to cl**ax.
“Tess,—” he breathed in my ear, picking up speed. His h*ps pressed harder and I fought the urge to touch myself, to help reach an orgasm.
With another thrust, Brax moaned, his back shuddering as his butt clenched hard. He came inside, wave after wave of ecstasy for him and simple acceptance for me. I stroked his chest, so happy he was able to find release after everything I put him through.
He collapsed on top, sandwiching me between his bulk and the mattress.
I stared at the ceiling, battling so many thoughts, not all of them making sense. Brax huffed, snuggling his face into my br**sts.
Within moments, he was fast asleep, leaving me lonely and confused.
Chapter 3
*Robin*
“Sign here, please.”
The concierge handed us the compulsory waivers. I gulped, reading the fine print. If we injured, maimed, or killed ourselves while using the hotel provided scooters, the hotel would not be held accountable. If it was such a good idea to rent these things, why the huge disclaimer?
I glanced at Brax. “You sure you want to explore Cancun on a two wheeled death machine?”
Brax bit the top of the pen, frowning at the hire contract. He flashed me a grin. No residue of fear or sadness from yesterday lingered in his face. Thank God.
“You promised this morning. You agreed today was all about what I wanted to do, and tomorrow is all about you.”
I smiled. “Fine. But, tomorrow, you are so going to put up with getting a massage with me. No moaning.”
He drew a cross over his heart and signed the paperwork with a flourish. He laughed, excitement glowing in his blue gaze. “Do you want your own bike, or dinky on the back of mine?”
No way in hell did I trust myself to weave in crazy, un-choreographed traffic in a foreign country. “I’ll go on the back of yours. You do know what you’re doing, right?”
Images came to mind of us being impaled on the bike rack on the front of a bus, or run over by a truck carrying piñatas. I shuddered.
Brax scoffed. “I’ve driven a Harley. How hard can a moped be?”
Pretty damn hard, especially with maniacs driving circles around us.
I scowled playfully. “You drove the Harley for all of ten minutes.”
Bill, a building colleague, encouraged Brax to join the local motorcycle group. Brax tried, and promptly said no, which I was super happy about, as driving without doors and a roof freaked me out.
Brax rolled his eyes, tapping the signature bit of my contract. Sticking my tongue out, I signed.
The concierge beamed and walked around the desk. We were in the lobby, and more guests had arrived, a wave of shuffling bags and smiles. The soft murmur of excitement weaved around us, layered with holiday vibes.
“Follow me, please.” The concierge, in his crisp white shirt and bright orange waistcoat, led the way.
Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. Hell, we might even get off the beaten tourist track and find something local and new.
I looped my arm through Brax’s, doubly glad I’d put on leggings and my large cream t-shirt today. The outfit offered the best protection of all the clothes I packed. I hoped the frail fabrics would safeguard if we happened to topple.
We followed the concierge out of the hotel and into the basement car park. He unlocked a canary yellow scooter and retrieved two helmets. “Please make sure you keep these with you at all times. It’s a one hundred dollar fine if you lose them.”
Brax nodded, fastening mine with dexterous fingers. His touch sent my heart thrumming. Giving me a soft smile, he fastened his own helmet and straddled the bike.
I stood there, feeling like a ridiculous, overripe pineapple. The helmet weighed a ton.
The concierge handed me an A4 map, and drew a red oval, which I assumed was the hotel.
“This is where you are.” His minty breath wafted over me as he leaned closer, stabbing the map. “If you get lost, ask a policeman for directions. They are all over the city. And don’t separate. It’s best to stay together.”
My pulse thudded a little. Policemen lurked thick in this city. Not only lurked, but loitered on street corners with weapons and guns. Were the Mexican citizens so ruthless and dangerous?
Don’t answer that. Especially when we were about to explore on a contraption offering no safety whatsoever.
Brax patted the seat behind him; I smiled weakly. Throwing my leg over, I rested my feet on the little stirrups and wrapped my arms around his torso like a python.
Chuckling, he turned on the ignition and tested the throttle. “You won’t fall off with the death grip you have, hun.”
That was the plan. I kissed his neck, loving his shiver. “I trust you.” I tried to convince myself, as much as Brax.
The concierge smiled and left us to it. Brax eased off the clutch and we shot forward. My stomach failed to catch up, but after kangaroo hopping a few times, Brax wrangled the bike into submission.
“Ready?” he said over a shoulder.
Lying, I spoke into his ear, “Yep.”
We travelled out of the gloomy parking garage and into the blazing mid-morning sunshine. Even with dirty streets, Cancun reminded me of a vibrant party.
Brax put his feet down, stabilizing the bike as we stopped on the edge of the busy road. His heart thumped under my arms, concentration making his shoulders tight.
We watched as speedsters, crazy pedestrians, and vehicles painted in more colours than the rainbow shot past. For the hundredth time, I wondered just how crash hot this idea was.
“Which way, Tessie? Left or right?”
I swivelled my head, wrinkling my nose. No break came in the traffic from either direction. North, south, east, west—it didn’t matter when everything looked as death-filled and as foreign as the other.
Impulsively, I said, “Right.” Please, let us return to the hotel in one piece!
Brax nodded, scratching his chin where the strap of the helmet strangled him. He rolled forward, his flip-flopped feet slapping on hot pavement. The bike wobbled while we waited a good ten minutes for courage to join the swarming mass of craziness.
I wanted to suggest flagging, and head to the pool—
“Hold on!” Brax sucked in his abs and twisted the accelerator. The bike whined and took off with a skid.
My heart lurched into my throat as we shot forward, narrowly dodging a cyclist with a mountain of merchandise on the back and zipped in front of a smog spewing bus.
My mouth dried in panic and arms squeezed Brax so tight, his ribcage bruised my biceps. Oh, my God! I wanted off. This isn’t my idea of fun.
Brax laughed as we straightened and drove with the mass. His happiness wrapped around us like a protective bubble, and I tried to stop hyperventilating.
My heart softened. He was enjoying this, and I wouldn’t ruin it. I trusted him to keep me safe.
* * * * *
An hour later, a waterfall of sweat ran under my t-shirt. The bright sun had landed me with a headache, and my brain felt cooked in the helmet. More than once, I’d tried to pull away from Brax’s back, but we were both so hot and sticky, it was disgusting.
We’d relaxed enough to enjoy driving through the labyrinths of streets, exploring side alleys, skirting around markets and peddlers, but now my ass ached, and my thighs had had enough of the vibrations of the scooter.
I needed a drink and somewhere cool—very, very cool.
Almost as if he heard my thoughts, Brax slowed to a stop outside a tiny, decrepit restaurant on the outskirts of the markets we’d driven around.
It looked anything but sanitary, with a sad donkey piñata hanging limp in the sun. The ripped plastic tablecloths didn’t encourage one to linger, and the sign was so blackened with filth, I couldn’t read the name.
“Ugh—” I exploded into a cough as a cloud of exhaust billowed from a rusty car. Very hygienic.
Brax stroked my hands, still clutched around his middle. “You okay?”
I nodded, sucking in a harsh breath. “Yep. I was going to say, surely we can find something better than this dive?”
Brax clambered off the bike, helping me off. My legs were the consistency of rubber. I’d ridden a horse in my childhood and even spread-eagled on a fat animal was better than the scooter. Going over bumps and potholes wasn’t good for my lady parts.
“I’m dying of thirst.” Pursing his lips, he took in the dank appearance. “We’ll just grab a quick drink and leave.” Brax unclipped his helmet and tied it to the handlebars. I did the same, almost puddling to the ground in relief to remove the hotbox from my lank hair.
Brax chuckled. “Bad hair day, huh?”
I reached up, running a hand through his sweaty locks. He leaned into my touch, love sparking in his eyes.
I giggled. “A helmet on a hot day doesn’t exactly equate to sexy hair.”
He pushed his big fingers into my own tangled strands. “I think you look sexy no matter what.” Running fingers down my cheek, he kept going, all the way to my hand.
Threading his fingers with mine, he leaned in, kissing me gently. “Hopefully, this place has cold drinks and ice.”
My skin was on fire and the thought of ice made my mouth water, but I shook my head. “Not allowed ice, remember? Only bottled water. Our Aussie bellies can’t handle the local H2O.”
He sighed. “Good point. Alright, I’ll just have a beer.”
“If you think you’re drinking and driving in this mess they call traffic, you have another thought coming, mister.” I laughed as we entered the gloom of the little café—if it could be called that—more like a falling down cave. The walls were peeling and tacky posters hung sticky-taped in random places, hiding pockmarking in the plaster. I frowned… they looked just like— Hell, are they bullet holes?
Trepidation crawled like icy spiders in my blood. I squeezed Brax’s hand as intuition sat up, ringing a loud warning gong. I was a firm believer in listening to my gut—it saved me more than once. “Brax?”
A woman with tobacco stained teeth grinned a holey smile as she appeared. “Well, well, nice to see some customers on such a hot day.” Her accented voice rasped across my skin like sandpaper. “What can I get you?”
My heart wouldn’t stay still. I wanted to say something. I wanted to leave. But Brax grinned. “Two Cokes, please.”
The woman peered at me, her gaze dark as midnight. “No food?”
I stiffened, hating how jittery I was, how much I wanted to run. Before Brax could decide he was hungry, as well as thirsty, I said, “Just drinks. And quickly, we’re supposed to be somewhere, we’re running late.” My snappy tone caused Brax to quirk an eyebrow.
The lady grimaced, shuffling away.
Brax tugged me to a table, and we sat directly under a ceiling fan stirring the hot, stagnant air. Sweat grew tacky on my skin, cooling to a chill. I grabbed a napkin to wipe my face.
“What’s gotten into you?” Brax asked, wiping the back of his neck with his hand.
I looked behind, trying to figure out why my spidey senses wigged out of control, but nothing seemed wrong. It was just a shabby eatery. No more. Maybe I was being stupid….
“Nothing. Sorry. I really want to go back to the hotel for a swim, that’s all.” I flashed a smile.
He grinned, his shiny face pink from the drive. “We’ll go as soon as we’re done.” Laughing, he added, “We must look like such gringos. No wonder the waitress gave us a weird look.”
My gut clenched. Somehow, I knew that wasn’t the reason. She’d looked at me almost…hungrily.
A scuffle sounded behind; I twisted in the chair to look. Toward the back of the restaurant, near the cash register, a man appeared. His voice was low, angry, as he shook the waitress, fingers digging into her upper arm.
My stomach flipped, kicking out trepidation and blowing it into full-fledged fright. I couldn’t stay.
“Brax, I’m not comfortable. Can we can get the Cokes to go?”
He slouched in the rickety chair. “I don’t think I can drink and navigate, hun. Just give me ten minutes, okay? Then we’ll go.” He looked sun-whipped and parched.
I nodded sharply, biting my tongue. I didn’t want to seem like a drama queen, but damn, my flesh rippled with panic. I wanted to be gone. Far, far away, back to the safety of the resort.
My legs jiggled under the table, anxiety pinging in my limbs.
Another man entered the café, wearing a black leather jacket and jeans. His greasy skin shone with sweat, and he had a chunk missing from the top of his ear. Long, stringy hair hung over a gaunt face. His eyes fell on mine; I froze.
It was like looking into a predators gaze: empty, hungry, black, and evil. It sucked my soul, amping my fear to a full forest fire.
“Brax—”
“Here you go.” The gap-tooth waitress deposited dewy, icy cans of Coke in front of us along with pink straws. I broke eye contact with Mr. Leather Jacket, swallowing hard. Keep it together. Brax is here. Brax will protect you.