Page 51 of Her Reluctant Hero
“Yeah, I mean, if you check back in, we’ll tell you what we found.”
Alex ended the call. He couldn’t ask for more than that.
They got back to the hotel room in silence. Once they walked in, Isabella kicked off her shoes and pulled off her blouse as she headed into the bathroom.
Alex stared at the curve of her breast. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
She looked over her shoulder at him. “I’m hot. I’m going to shower.”
“Then wait till you’re in the bathroom to get undressed,” he snapped.
She turned to face him fully. Her scent, damp, sexy, forbidden, washed over him. He forced himself to look into her eyes.
“Why does it bother you?” she demanded, then stepped closer, sliding her fingers over the fly of his pants. “Does it make you want me?”
He choked as his erection jumped against her touch. He took a step toward her, hoping to intimidate as he leaned against her, pressing her to the wall, propping his arm over her head. Her gaze didn’t falter—he was small potatoes compared to what she’d endured.
“I always want you.”
She took a deep breath so that her breasts lifted and brushed against his chest. Her fingers closed around his erection through his pants and he ground his teeth to stop himself from grabbing her hips, pushing up that skirt—
“Then have me,” she said in that throaty voice, her eyes dark, unreadable.
All the blood rushed from his head. “It can’t happen.”
Her eyes flashed, just a moment, before icing over. “Because I’m a whore.”
That wasn’t it. He didn’t really want her thinking that was the reason, but he seized onto it anyway. He pushed away from the wall, hating the loss of her touch, the look in her eyes. But he didn’t think she’d buy the idea that he believed she deserved more, that she deserved a man who could love her, could treat her right. Not a man who wasn’t above using her.
She needed to know what love, what lovemaking, was. He wasn’t the man to show her.
“Why do you stay here with me, then? Get another room.”
She was pissed, her teeth bared, her eyes bright, her breasts jiggling. Man, what a sight.
“I already told you I can’t. There isn’t another room on this floor, and anything else is too far away if Saldana decides to come find you.”
She tossed her hair back over her shoulder. “You’re here to protect me? Or to lie in wait for Santiago? Am I just bait to you?”
“I’m here to protect you.” He was amazed at the calmness of his own voice.
“I told you in Honduras I didn’t want your protection. I don’t want it now.”
“I don’t give a damn. If I’m not here, you’re going to do something stupid to get that kid back and end up getting yourself killed or under Saldana’s thumb again. So, no, I’m not going anywhere.”
“I hate you,” she said, turning to the bathroom.
“Good.”
When she slammed the door, he dropped to the chair and covered his face with his hands. Sure, he was here to keep her from doing something stupid, but who was going to stop him?
Isabella stood under the shower spray, trying not to sob. The damned man would probably hear her and think she was crying over him. He’d be right.
She didn’t have the greatest track record with men. She’d lost her virginity at fourteen to a senior who never spoke to her again. When she recovered from that humiliation, she dipped her toe into the casual-sex scene, but the act always left a bad taste in her mouth, sometimes literally. She’d gone to Honduras with a boy she’d thought she could like, but he’d left her, high and dry, before she found a job as a stripper.
Then she’d met Santiago, and look how that had turned out.
But while she was at his compound, she’d met Eric Reyes. Alex called him Cortez, but in Santiago’s house, he’d been Reyes. He’d smiled at her when others ignored her. He’d talked to her, touched her without wanting to screw her. Well, maybe he had, but he hadn’t groped, hadn’t stared. He’d spoken to her in that soft voice, calling her Bella as Alex sometimes did. She’d felt safe with him and started seeking him out, especially when Santiago was away.
Because of her need to be something more than a whore to a man, he’d died a terrible death.
She’d thought he’d be able to stand up to Santiago’s wrath. He had been strong. That just hadn’t been enough.
Was Alex? Alex made her feel safe. She thought maybe he could see her as Eric had. But if he only saw her as a whore, as a job—why convince herself otherwise?
She shut off the water, toweled off, realized she hadn’t brought her pajamas in here. With a toss of her head, she opened the door and strode out.
Alex was on his side of the bed, watching the news of the upcoming shuttle launch. She walked right in front of the TV, opened the drawer and bent over unnecessarily to retrieve her pajamas.
“You done in there?” he asked, his voice unaffected by the sight of her damp, nude body, and he rolled off the bed in the direction of the bathroom. He stopped at the door, turned to her. “Don’t stay up too late. I have a plan for tomorrow.”
