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Until he woke sometime later with Laila’s mouth around his stiff, hungry cock.
Once Trees finished his long, low-voiced conversation outside the RV, Laila dashed to the bed, huddled under the blankets, and pretended to sleep. The door to the motorhome shut with a quiet click. His footsteps approached the little bedroom. Moments later, his gaze traveled over her. She repressed a shiver, but not because he scared her…at least not the way he used to.
What she felt tonight wasn’t fear.
Understanding this unfamiliar feeling wasn’t important. Reaching Valeria and Jorge was.
Finally, Trees turned away. When he started the shower and climbed inside, Laila scampered from the bed and stepped into her nearby shoes. As she crept through the vehicle, she found the bathroom door ajar and froze. Risking her escape was stupid. So was poking the bear. But before she could tell herself that, she was already staring.
The top of Trees’s dark head, along with his elbows and his hair-roughened knees, stuck out from behind the shower curtain. What did the rest of him look like inside that steamy cubicle, all wet and naked? Was he as muscled and masculine everywhere as his shoulders and chest suggested?
Laila flashed hot at the questions and jerked away. What he looked like didn’t matter, except when measuring the superior size and strength he would undoubtedly use to bend her to his will.
Quickly, she rifled through his duffel, but the cuffs she sought to bind him with, the ones with the dangling padlocks, were nowhere to be found. Ditto for the rest of the drawers and compartments in the motor home. That meant she had to scrap her easy Plan A. Plan B—running out the door now—it was.
But before she could grab her things and make a mad dash for freedom, the shower cut off.
Carajo! She wouldn’t get far before Trees gave chase. In less than two minutes, he would realize she was gone. What were her odds of finding helpful strangers or a ride to Louisiana that quickly?
Zero.
That left only dreaded Plan C: seducing him into a good night’s sleep.
Laila pressed a hand to her tightening belly, dragged in a shaky breath, and sneaked back to the bedroom. As she approached the bed, she trembled and prayed and told herself everything would be all right. She could handle what came next. It wasn’t as if she’d never experienced sex or exchanged favors before. She simply had to gather her courage.
Don’t think; just do it. It will be over soon…
Screwing her eyes shut tight, Laila dropped every stitch she wore, crawled into the bed, and closed her eyes, doing her best to dredge up gumption and calm.
The next few minutes passed in the blink of an eye before Trees emerged from the bathroom. He paused in the kitchen, and she held her breath, hoping like hell that he wouldn’t notice anything amiss. When he shut the refrigerator door a moment later, she was sure she’d avoided raising suspicion. And when he settled onto the mattress beside her, turning away to give her the illusion of space and privacy, she waited, her lips pressed together to hold in a whimper as she stared through the window at the crisp, still night.
Soon, she would be out there—and on her way to Valeria and Jorge. All she had to do was make sure Trees slept soundly.
When she finally heard his soft snoring, she mentally counted to one hundred and tried to work up her fortitude. Then she did it again. Not that it helped. Trees would likely wake up before she finished the task ahead. He woke up anytime she so much as had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. And what would likely happen after that terrified her.
Once she reached one hundred a second time, Laila forced herself to stop stalling and eased the covers off her naked body, shivering in the winter air. Or was she trembling because she had figurative cold feet? After all, Trees hadn’t given her permission to touch him. And he’d been nice…in a gruff sort of way. Definitely nicer than any of Emilo’s lackeys and thugs.
But none of that mattered. Jorge and his health came first, so she shoved away the useless guilt. It wouldn’t help her survive or bring her family back together. If Trees didn’t like anything she did to him, he had the luxury of saying no and pushing her away—something she’d never had. She wouldn’t force him.
But she’d bet he wouldn’t turn her down.
Pushing the thought aside, she balanced on her knees and inched across the mattress to where he slept curled on his side, his back looking big and broad and impossibly strong.
Laila gulped. He could overpower her easily. In seconds. Without breathing hard or breaking a sweat.
But she had to push forward. Whatever he wanted from her, whatever it took to ensure he fell into a satisfied stupor, she would do it. Not fighting him would be hard. Pretending to enjoy his touch would be worse. But she didn’t see another way.
