He traced a finger down the valley between her breasts. “There is no ‘should,’ bella. There are no expectations or rules for us to follow. All that matters is what we feel, what we want—your desire and mine.”

She felt a hitch in her chest, that precious flame of love she felt for him growing brighter. “What I want is you—all of you.”

His eyes went dark, a muscle clenching in his cheek.

And she knew he understood.

Still looking into his eyes, she leaned forward and brushed his lips with hers, traced their outline with her tongue, needing him, wanting him. He accommodated her kiss with his own gentle response, but that wasn’t what she wanted. She kissed him harder, brushing her nipples against his chest, grinding herself against his erection. His response rose to match hers, but it wasn’t enough. Frustrated, she dug her nails into his shoulder and gave him a little shake, biting gently down on his lower lip, trying to provoke him. His body tensed, all that muscle going taut.

And she felt his restraint break.

In a heartbeat, he took control from her, claiming her mouth in a fierce kiss, his tongue dominating hers, strong arms crushing her against him.

Oh, God, yes!

She let herself go, desires she’d thought she’d never feel again exploding to life inside her. She dug her nails deeper into his skin, challenging him with her own response, resisting him, forcing him to use his strength, the masculine power of his body delighting some hidden part of her until she had no choice but to yield.

* * *

JAVIER GAVE IN to the animal in his chest, his need for Laura driving every other thought from his mind. She was back. His Laura, his sweet bella, was back.

He wanted to taste nothing unless it was the sweetness of her mouth, the musk of her arousal, the salt of her tears, wanted to touch nothing unless it was the silk of her hair, her soft curves, wanted to breathe nothing unless it had come from her lungs.

Her nails dug into his skin, ten precious points of pain, her body trembling and pliant in his arms, her vulva slick and hot against his cock. And he knew neither of them wanted to wait. They’d already waited so long.

He caught her weight with his arms and stood, her legs locking around his waist, putting pressure on his stitches. But he didn’t care. His first thought was to take her on the floor in front of the fire. But Al-Nassar had raped her on the floor. He didn’t want to dredge up those memories.

Not the floor.

His mouth still on hers, he crossed the room to the dining room table. But the vase of roses he’d given her sat at its center.

Not the table.

He carried her toward the bedroom, but the bedroom was too damned far away, her tongue clashing with his, the little motions she was making with her hips driving him crazy. He turned and pressed her back into the wall, shifting his hips so that the head of his cock nudged against her entrance.

Wanting to be certain, he dragged his mouth from hers, somehow managing to speak. “Is this what you want, bella?”

“Yes!”

And with a single slow thrust he was home.

She gasped, her eyes drifting shut on a moan. She was so wet, her body taking all of him and gripping him tight. He tested her response with a few deep, slow thrusts, saw only pleasure on her face, her inner muscles tightening around him. And then his body took over, his hips thrusting hard and fast, the sheer bliss of it blowing his mind. His mouth sought and claimed hers again, catching her little moans and sighs, her arms wrapped tight around his neck, her thighs clamped like a vise around his waist.

He had imagined this moment a thousand times, but he hadn’t envisioned it like this. He’d imagined tender kisses and caresses, taking her with gentleness and finesse, not fucking her up against a wall. But then sex with Laura had never been what he’d imagined it would be, the chemistry between them volatile.

He’d hoped that coming earlier would have taken the edge off, made it easier for him to last, but he was dick-deep in paradise, his male anatomy threatening to betray him. He was already on the edge, his balls drawing tight against his body, the shimmering tension in his groin growing brighter with each thrust. He fought to relax his ass muscles, shifting his stance and his hold on her hips so that every thrust made the root of his cock graze her swollen clit.

Her head fell to the side, her lips parted, her breath coming in pants as he kept up the rhythm. He lowered his mouth to her throat, biting and nipping the sensitive skin above her pulse, the mingled scents of his sweat and her arousal filling his head.

She gasped, her body going tense, her inner muscles drawing tighter around him, and he knew she was moments away from orgasm. He tried to hold on, thrusting harder, faster, willing to go to the edge for her, his sweet Laura, his bella preciosa.

She came with a cry, ecstasy on her beautiful face, her inner muscles clenching hard around him. And he surrendered, climax overtaking him in a liquid rush, carrying him over the edge and into heaven.

* * *

LAURA AND JAVIER held fast to each other, their bodies slick with sweat, as he carried her to the bed. Javier got his guitar and, still naked, played for her, singing romantic love songs to her in Spanish, his voice deep and smooth. Then, contented and replete, they kissed each other to sleep.

* * *

LAURA JERKED AWAKE.

Just a nightmare.

It was the same nightmare she always had. Only this time it had been different. She hadn’t been alone. Javier had been there. When Zainab had tried to take Klara from her, he’d shot her. But when Laura had reached for her newborn baby, the blanket had been empty.

She glanced down at Javier and watched as he stirred, reaching for her in his sleep, his dark lashes resting against his cheeks. He was such a beautiful man, such an incredibly brave man, the most courageous man she knew.

It still hadn’t sunk in. Javier was the nameless, faceless warrior she’d always thought of as the tall SEAL, the man who had saved her life. She looked back and tried to see beyond the night vision optics, the weapons, and the face camo to recognize the man she knew, but couldn’t, her memories colored by confusion, terror, adrenaline. He’d seemed larger than life that night, invincible, he and his men the only force in this world capable of bringing her tormenters down.

She thought through what he’d told her about that night, his perception so different from her own. She’d blamed herself for so long for the fact that Klara was still in the hands of terrorists that she didn’t know any other way of thinking. But listening to him run through the different scenarios of what might have happened—Zainab stabbing her the moment she tried to take Klara . . . the women fighting her for the baby, hurting or maybe even killing her little girl . . . the RPGs blowing the chopper to bits—she’d realized he was seeing things more clearly than she had.

And a dark weight she’d carried for so long seemed to lessen.

She glanced at her clock and saw that it was just after five in the morning. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to sleep, she crept out of bed, slipped into her bathrobe, and made her way to her office, where she sent a quick message to her mother letting her know she needed to talk about something important. She logged on to Skype and waited, popping in her earbuds to keep the conversation from waking Javier.

She told her mother and grandmother the terrible news. They spoke for most of an hour, sharing their tears and their fears for Klara, neither her mother nor her grandmother willing to surrender hope.

That was one reason she loved them so much. As long as she believed, they would believe with her, no matter how bad the odds of finding Klara might be.

“What are you doing awake already, bella?” Javier walked in behind her, still naked, apparently unaware she was online. He bent down and kissed her, giving her mother and grandmother an eyeful of grade-A Puerto Rican beefcake, complete with a manscaped package.

Her mother and grandmother stopped speaking and stared.

“You might want to step out of the line of the camera.” Laura pointed to the screen and pulled out her earbuds.

Javier’s eyes went wide, and he took a quick step sideways, hiding his bare, shaven man bits behind her chair.

“Javier, this is my mother, Birgitta, and Inga, my grandmother. This is Javier.”

Her mother’s and grandmother’s faces were pressed as near to the computer screen as they could get, and both of them were smiling shamelessly.

Laura found herself fighting laughter.

“Good morning, Javier,” her mother said, switching to English. “We—my mother and I—are very happy to meet you.”

“It’s good to meet you, too, ma’am. Laura has told me a lot about you.”

Then her grandmother spoke, struggling with every word, her Swedish accent strong. “You are a very handsome man, more handsome even than Laura has told me.”

“Uh . . . Thank you, ma’am.”

“I am glad, Javier, that the two of you found each other again,” her mother said. “I was so afraid Laura would be alone. I’m glad she has taken you to her bed.”

“So am I. I mean . . .” Javier looked like he might choke.

Laura bit her lip to keep from laughing, chiding her mother in Swedish. “Mom, you’re embarrassing him!”

“Oh, forgive me, Javier.” Her mother smiled, still amused, her grandmother staring openly at Javier’s bare chest. “We are so open about such things here. I sometimes forget that it is different there.”