Page 68 of Her Reluctant Hero
“We should have brought our own sheets,” he agreed, eyeing the polyester bedspread with spots of mildew on the corner. The pillows were flat and yellowed, with no cases.
“And disinfectant spray.” Isabella turned to look in the cabinets around the small room, where she found thin towels. “We can cover the pillows with these.”
“The sheets aren’t too bad,” Alex said after ripping the covers back to the end of the bed. He dropped onto the mattress that didn’t so much as bounce, and lay back. “Hell, I’m so tired I could sleep on the carpet.”
She inspected the screens around the room, found two that were secure enough that she felt safe opening the window, and the small trailer was filled with sounds of wilderness, different from the ones in Honduras. Of course, she hadn’t opened the windows there, Santiago never would have allowed it.
She carried the thin towels to the bed and sat beside Alex. His eyes were closed, his arm thrown over his eyes, but she knew he wasn’t asleep yet.
Outside she heard a rumbling growl, followed by a kind of bark. She jolted and moved closer to Alex.
“What is that?”
“Alligator.”
She whipped her head around to stare at him, grabbing his hand in panic, then looked past him out the window. “Are you kidding me?”
Lazily he laced his fingers through hers. “Bull. Mating call.”
“How on earth do you know that?”
“Have them in North Carolina. Don’t worry. It won’t come in.”
“I won’t go out.” Ever. “So what now?”
He shook his head, arm still crooked over his face. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”
She opened her mouth to press, but sensed his exhaustion and frustration, so instead asked, “The tub is pretty disgusting?”
“Whole bathroom is,” he muttered, eyes still closed.
With a sigh, she pushed herself off the bed. She found a worn washcloth and towel, took Alex’s toilet paper from the bag and headed in.
The toilet had a black ring at the water level, the tub was grimy, but the sink was relatively clean. She ran warm water and stripped to her underwear, careful not to let her clothes touch the floor—no telling when they’d be able to wash, and she didn’t want to carry this smell around with them.
With the hand soap, she cleaned quickly. She could still smell Alex on her. God, so much had happened since they’d made love, and that had only been a few hours ago. She washed his scent off, washed her feet and rinsed. Walking on top of her shoes, she made her way naked back into the bedroom, where Alex was on his side, toward the open window, asleep. She tugged his duffel open, found her kitten pajamas and slipped them on. Only once she was dressed and on the bed beside Alex, did she start to cry.
The heavy weight of Alex’s arm across her waist woke her. She had no idea what time it was, if it was dark because of the time or because they were surrounded by trees. Alex’s breath was even, warm on the back of her neck. She’d never slept with a man all night, other than Alex, and even then he hadn’t touched her in his sleep, as if he’d had to keep his guard up.
Why had he let his guard down now?
She turned onto her back. She couldn’t see him but stroked his stubbled jaw. His breathing stuttered, evened out. Awake or asleep? Preferring to think he was asleep, she continued her exploration, gliding her touch down his chest.
She cupped him through his pants. He caught his breath, definitely awake now, heavy and warm against her palm.
“Bella,” he murmured, but it wasn’t a protest.
She’d never had a man to turn to in the night, never had someone she could depend on to keep her safe. She squeezed, just a little, and he moaned, found her mouth in the dark, his breath musky with sleep. She didn’t release him, stroking him to fullness as he unbuttoned her top, pushed down her pants.
The rustle of cellophane filled the room and he pushed her away, was over her, inside her, rocking her, filling her, fulfilling her.
She ran her fingers down his back to curve over his ass, holding him to her, arching toward him, her mouth hungry beneath his. He scooped her hair back with one hand, lifted her hips with the other and they found a rhythm that pleased them both. She didn’t want it to end, didn’t want the pleasure, the connection to end, but with one shift of his hips, she tumbled over the edge and dragged him with her.
They lay together afterwards. Tangled together, they fell asleep.
Hours later, Isabella woke to find herself alone, sheets pulled over her naked body. Sunlight dappled the bed, filtered through the leaves of the trees and the trailer’s dirty windows. Outside, birds competed for loudest cry. She must have been tired to sleep through that. She heard movement in the kitchen and, finding her pajamas and shoes, she made her way down the hall.
Alex crouched in front of the refrigerator in his boxers and T-shirt, scrubbing. The sour scent filled the air, along with the tinny sound of the little radio on the counter, talking about the shuttle launch.
