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“Beautiful,” he growled as he fell to his knees and feasted on her breasts.
Julia could do nothing but gasp and hold on tight. He sucked and licked and scraped his teeth over her breasts, until she was ready to explode. The room was spinning. There were no thoughts in her head but Joe.
She was vaguely aware of the button on her shorts popping open. The zip lowering. He sucked her nipple hard, making her wail as he removed the rest of her clothes, tugging off shoes and lifting her feet to get rid of her shorts. Once he had her naked before him, he didn’t hesitate—he lifted her knee and hooked it over his shoulder, and then his mouth was on her.
It was a ravishing. He didn’t tease. He kissed her most private place with abandon. He was relentless, driving her as high as he could, as fast as he could. Julia lost the ability to stand and felt Joe’s hands on her hips holding her up. Her head was swimming. Her only sounds were moans of surrender. She felt herself race towards climax. Too fast. Too hard. Too much. She couldn’t get the words out to tell him to slow. And then it was too late. He pushed her over the edge. Her body spasmed with the agony of pleasure that overwhelmed her, and she collapsed—straight into Joe’s arms.
Julia was gasping for air, fighting for reason, when she felt the cool cotton of the sheets against her back. A second later, Joe thrust inside her. Her back came off the bed with a desperate wail of pleasure.
“Need. You.” Joe pressed his face into her throat and bit the muscle in the crook of her neck.
The sting of the bite, accompanied by the devastating pleasure of him driving into her, sent her spiralling into another orgasm. Time suspended. It was as though she was outside her own body, yet completely aware of it at the same time. She was split. Soul and body. And then she came crashing back together, with one word on her lips.
“Joe.”
Chapter 24
Callum was living his worst nightmare. In the years since he’d lost his legs, he hadn’t let anyone, except medical staff, see him without his prosthetics. And now here he was, the butt of Ryan’s jokes and a liability to his team. With one leg abandoned in a stone formation and the other sporting a bullet hole, he was officially out of the game. There was no way he’d be able to get replacements fitted in time to help—especially not while he was in a foreign country. He was reduced to letting the concierge in their new hotel find him a wheelchair.
A wheelchair. His team were going to see him in a wheelchair. How the hell could he expect them to let him lead when they saw how weak he really was?
They were staying in the Marriott, which was a couple of blocks away from the Plaza de Armas, where the women had been holed up all afternoon. Their new hotel was only two blocks away from their old hotel. They’d talked about that when they’d been in their stolen car, heading back to the city. They came to the conclusion that there were a lot of hotels around the Plaza de Armas, and a lot of tourists to hide amongst. Plus, the Marriott was the only hotel Callum was sure would cater to someone in a wheelchair. He was risking the team because of his failings.
He looked over at his bathroom with its extra-wide door. The shower was roll-in. There was plenty of space around the bed, and everything was at a height he could reach from a wheelchair.
He hated every single inch of it.
Picking up his phone, he put a call through to Lake.
“Benson,” the taciturn man said.
“We’re in a fucked-up mess.”
“Details,” Lake demanded.
Callum let out a sigh as he reached for the glass of whisky on the night tabl
e. He took a hefty gulp, rejoicing in the burn as it made its way to his stomach.
“Ed Sanchez, Joe’s contact, the lawyer. The guy sold us out. Esteban bought him. He led us out of town to give Esteban’s guys a chance to snatch Patricia and the mummy. They didn’t get her, but only because Julia is a genius savant who stores information like a NASA computer. She knew a secret way out of the hotel and got the women to safety.”
“I told you Julia was worth her weight in gold.”
“Aye, you also told me she’d get over her need to hide behind office plants.” He finished his whisky while he tried to remember the last time Julia had hidden from him. Hell, it had to have been back in England. Maybe she was adapting. “Anyway, Ed led us to what he said was a prime location for our fake treasure trove. Instead, he had the cartel men waiting for us. It was an ambush. A bloodbath. There are eleven bodies in a field outside of Cusco.” He paused, hating what he had to confess. “Along with one of my prosthetic legs. The other one is sitting on my bed with a bullet hole in it.”
“Injuries to the team?” It was the same voice Lake had used as operation commander during their time in the SAS.
“Unbelievably? None. The odd scrape and cut, but nothing major. Our worst setback is the fact I’m now confined to a chair.” It turned his stomach to say the words. They were like bile in his mouth. Weak. He was so bloody weak. Half the man he’d once been. Literally.
“Even in your chair, you’re worth more than most men in your situation.”
The only reason Callum didn’t take off Lake’s head for placating him was because he knew his friend wouldn’t dare try. If anyone was going to give it to him straight, it was Lake. He’d just have to quietly accept that on this one point, Lake Benson was completely delusional.
There was a knock at the door. “Concierge.”
“Give me a minute,” he told Lake before shouting, “Come on in.”
The door opened and the man wheeled in a chair. It was to his credit that he hadn’t asked what happened to Callum’s prosthetic legs; instead he’d taken the request for a wheelchair in his stride—especially seeing as Callum didn’t want to borrow or hire one. He wanted to buy one.
